It’s a bold question and Rosie doesn’t know how to say, ‘What friends?’ without sounding self-pitying or dramatic. She shrugs and keeps quiet. But it’s the truth: Rosie no longer has friends here; not the kind of friendships she really yearns for, anyway.
She’s only seen Anna twice since she got back from staying with her sister in the Lake District. They talked briefly, their conversations clipped but weighted by everything they were not saying. Perhaps they’ll talk properly before Rosie and Seb leave, but maybe not. Rosie feels too interested in the future to linger for long in the past. When she thinks of Anna and those other friendships with Lotte and Vita, she feels that old messiness, the old internal pacing creeping back. She told Seb and he said he felt the same about Eddy. It wasn’t over forever, he’d talk properly to him at some point, he was sure, but when that would be he didn’t yet know and that was OK. Their phones ring rarely now and neither Seb nor Rosie misses the sound.
The plan is for Rosie to work full-time with Maggie and for Seb to homeschool the kids for the first six months, by which time they hope to have a better idea of where they want to be longer term. Eva is going to rent their house with some of the insurance money while her own is being rebuilt. She’s booked a flight to Sydney too and will be staying out there with them for the whole of February.
‘You know the weird thing,’ Rosie says, looking at Abi again. ‘I feel like thanking you for fucking up our lives.’
Abi breathes out and rolls her eyes before her face softens again and she says, with a smile, ‘Same here.’
Rosie, ignoring the sounds of other people around them, tunes back instead into the rolling sighs from the sea again for a moment before picking up her bag. She stands and says, ‘Come on, then. I’d better get this over with.’
And it feels good to move towards the sea across the shingle, not touching each other, but still, the two of them, walking side by side again.
Epilogue
Abi is going into the kitchen to check on the roast chicken when she hears a car pull up outside the flat. She stays away from the window because she doesn’t have to see her to know it’ll be Anna. Blake will already be reaching to open his door even though the car hasn’t come to a complete stop yet; he likes to come to Brighton at the start of Anna’s week, when she stays in their old family home with the kids. Lily only goes to their place when it’s Eddy’s week at home. Abi suspects Blake would rather get the train from Waverly to Brighton but maybe letting Anna drive him is part of their agreement. He can go, but only if he lets Anna drive him – twenty minutes just the two of them. She pictures those journeys, Blake staring blankly out of his window as the dual carriageway rushes by, answering Anna’s pre-prepared questions with monosyllables.
Abi feels a wave of sympathy for Anna as she listens to Blake’s car door slam shut. Imagines the shock as Anna’s shoved back into silence, alone again. Her car engine is running but still Anna lingers for a moment so she can watch from the other side of the road as the front door to their flat flies open, Lily standing there, beaming, before Blake has a chance to ring the bell. Anna must see the way their children’s eyes are both brimful of light as they kiss and hug and check in with each other.
And in that moment before the other mother drives away, Abi feels the chasm open again between them, because how can Anna not be moved by this, not want to protect and delight in this beautiful thing that is happening to these beautiful young people?
As Abi moves fully into the kitchen towards the oven just under the window, Anna drives quietly away.
The flat is exactly how she likes it today. Full and noisy. Diego and Stephen are in the little sitting room teaching Margot a new card game; she hears Margot call out in her high voice as Blake and Lily join them, ‘Yay! Blakey can be on my team!’
The chicken is ready, the skin turning a delicious light brown. Even Diego won’t be able to find fault. She leaves it to rest on the side as she takes the miniature roast potatoes, fragrant with rosemary, bubbling with olive oil, out of the oven and drops a curl of butter on to the veg.
Then next door, above the voices, Abi’s phone starts ringing and she hears Lily say, ‘Hello, this is Abi’s phone.’
Lily makes her way across the tiny hall to the kitchen, tucking her red hair behind her ear, a concentrated, inscrutable look on her face as she silently hands Abi her phone.
‘Who is it?’ Abi mouths but Lily just stares at her, her frown deepening, her mouth slightly open before she turns away, back towards the laughter and warmth.
Abi lifts the phone to her ear.
She recognizes her breathing immediately before she even says, ‘Abigail?’