She’s confused. What’s he apologizing for? For the unfair distribution of luck? Or is he apologizing for something more mundane, more familiar to Abi; is he apologizing for the ugly thoughts he has about her? Or for wishing she didn’t exist, because the very fact of her reminds him of what he’s capable of, his duplicitous nature, the part of himself he has to work so hard to smother in all his fucking goodness?
She doesn’t know and, really, it doesn’t matter. Let his thoughts be his own. She wants nothing more to do with him. They both turn to see Lotte walking back towards the restaurant, her face gripped in anger, a yellow parking ticket twisting in her hand.
Abi takes a step back, away from Seb. ‘OK.’
She wants him to leave now but he asks again, needing more reassurance, ‘You won’t say anything?’
She looks at him one last time, directly into his pitiful, scared eyes. ‘No, Seb, I won’t. Just know that I’m protecting my children in this – not you. Is that clear?’
He nods and she’s glad he can’t say anything else even if he wanted to because Lotte’s back, a ball of spitting outrage as it turns out the laws of the land also apply to her and her Land Rover.
Neither Seb nor Lotte notices as Abi walks away from them both, back into the cool darkness of the kitchen.
Chapter 4
Rosie knows as she walks down the stairs – even without seeing her or hearing her – that Eva has arrived. The air feels calmer, and the kids have stopped bickering; they talk rather than whine and have become the kind of children Rosie imagined having before she actually had any. Today, Eva’s arrived with a jigsaw puzzle she kept from Seb’s childhood, and the four of them are already gathered round the table sorting out the pieces. The kids kneeling on the chairs, bums in the air, hovering over the table.
‘
‘Thanks so much for this, Eva.’
Rosie is digging through a pile of dirty washing, left in a heap outside the machine, to see if her swimsuit is hiding in there.
‘I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be,’ Eva says, acknowledging Greer with a nod as she passes her a corner piece of the puzzle. After more than five decades in the UK, Eva still sounds Danish, her accent warm like hot chocolate poured over words. They all adore her. Even though she’s faced a few hard things in life – fertility issues, grief and living away from her beloved Denmark – she is still determined to experience joy whenever it comes her way. She’d met Seb’s dad, Benjamin, when she’d sat down in one of his economics lectures at UCL, having got lost on the way to her English lecture. He’d drawn her a little map of where to go so she wouldn’t make the same mistake the following week and, in a moment of uncharacteristic bravado, he’d written his number at the bottom. Seb had the map framed after Benjamin died, peacefully at home, from cancer. He’d never seen Eva sob the way she sobbed when she unwrapped the frame. Now it hangs in her bedroom, above the side of the bed where Benjamin slept next to her for so many years.
Rosie discovers her swimsuit at the bottom of the washing, curled and limp like discarded skin, and decides it’s best not to smell it before putting it in her tote bag along with her towel. ‘I’ll only be a couple of hours.’
‘Take your time,
Rosie puts her hand on Eva’s shoulder and Eva squeezes Rosie’s arm. Now Eva is here, the need to leave suddenly seems less urgent. Having Eva in her life is like having a second chance at being a daughter. But Anna will be waiting, so Rosie kisses all four of them again before she leaves, her heart aching with love as they call out their goodbyes.
At Anna’s gym, Anna strips her clothes off in the communal area while Rosie dips into one of the cubicles.
‘Ro, there’s no one here!’ Anna laughs, muttering, ‘Prude,’ as she undoes her bra, her breasts pouring into her hands. Rosie peers at her friend like she’s snooping on a bathing nymph. Anna’s naked body spills and sways and sinks as she rummages in her bag for her swimsuit, but the main difference between them is that Anna wears herself proudly, luxuriously, while Rosie beetles around, eyes swivelling in the shadows. Rosie bets Anna masturbates regularly. Anna would probably tell her if she asked, not that she ever would. Rosie is sure friendship is easier, clearer when some things, intimate things, remain private.
Rosie comes out of her changing room while Anna’s bent over. She’s stepping into her costume, pulling it up, groaning ‘Bloody thing,’ at the twisted straps, the complicated design.