S. Watson - Second Life

‘What?’ I’d said. ‘What is it?’

‘You know I love you. Don’t you?’

‘And I love you…’ He smiled, but didn’t look particularly relieved. I think that’s when I first realized what he was about to say.

‘Darling,’ he began. He took my hand across the table. ‘Julia, I—’

‘What, Hugh? What is it?’

‘Will you marry me?’

The happiness was instant, overwhelming. There was no romantic gesture, no going down on one knee or standing up to announce his intentions to the other diners, but I was glad of that; it wasn’t his style, and neither was it mine. He was a good man, I loved him, why would I say no? Plus, he knew me, had seen me at my absolute worst, knew everything about me.

Almost everything, anyway. And the things he didn’t know were the things I’d never tell anyone.

‘Of course!’ I said back then, yet still some part of me hesitated, the part that felt I didn’t deserve what Hugh was offering, what he’d already given me – this second life. But the relief that flooded his face told me I was making the right – the only – decision.

I realize Anna’s stopped speaking. I force myself to snap back to the present.

‘He sounds perfect!’

‘Yes. You know, I think he is!’

‘And he’s from Paris?’

‘No. He’s based there. His family’s from somewhere down in Devon.’ She grins. ‘This visit is a bit too rushed. I’m meeting them in a few weeks.’

We get to the car and I put her bag in the boot. Once we’re buckled up and I’ve started driving she tells me again the story of how they met. ‘Well,’ she says, ‘I told you about the dinner party?’ She sighs, as if their meeting were an inevitability, a coming together of the fates. I say yes, even though I’m not sure she did. She goes on to tell me anyway, about how they clicked straight away, about how instantly perfect it felt.

‘You know when something doesn’t feel sensible, but just feels right ?’ she says.

‘I do,’ I say, turning the wheel. I sigh. ‘I do.’ She thinks I’m talking about Hugh, but I’m not. I’m thinking of Lukas. I’ve been trying to pretend to myself that I don’t miss him, but I do. Or rather, I miss what I’d thought we could have had.

I believed he knew me; it felt like he’d cracked me open and seen through to who I really am. I’d convinced myself he was the only person who could still do that.

‘…so we think we’ll carry on living in Paris for a bit,’ says Anna, ‘and then maybe move back here.’

‘Good idea. So, remind me when you met?’

‘When? Oh, it was just after Christmas. It was a few weeks before Kate…’ She stumbles, corrects herself, but the damage is done. ‘…Just before I met you.’ I smile, but she can see I’m upset. I can talk about Kate, now. I can think about her. But such an explicit reference to her death, coming from nowhere, still throws me. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘Me and my big mouth…’

‘It’s okay.’ I don’t want to dwell on it, and neither do I want her to feel guilty. Anna is the last person I should expect to avoid the topic of my sister. Nevertheless, I change the subject. ‘But it all seems to have happened very quickly,’ I say. I’m thinking of Lukas again, of how rapidly I’d fallen. ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying that? I mean, are you sure?’

‘Oh! Yes, you’re right! But no, I’m totally sure! We both are,’ she adds. ‘He says the same. Neither of us thought there was any point in hanging around, when we’re so certain.’

She’s silent for a moment. I can feel her looking at me as I drive, no doubt weighing up what to say, wondering how much happiness I can stand. ‘You know, I think in a weird way it’s all connected with Kate. With what happened. It just reminded me that life is for living, you know? It’s not a rehearsal.’

‘No,’ I say. It’s a cliché, but only because it’s true. ‘No, it isn’t.’

‘I think that’s what Kate’s death taught me.’

‘Really? I feel it’s taught me nothing.’

It comes from nowhere. I wish I could unsay it, but it’s impossible.

‘Don’t say that.’

‘It’s true. All I’ve done is try to escape it.’

And look where it led me. I spent the summer obsessed with Lukas, a man ten years younger than me, falling in a love that I was stupid enough to think might be reciprocated.

I’d ended up running from a pain that I owed it to my sister to experience, and I’ll never be able to repay that. It feels like a final betrayal.

‘I’m just feeling sorry for myself. Ryan sounds wonderful. I can’t wait to meet him.’

‘You will! He might be coming over, this week. He’s not sure. You might even meet him on Monday.’

‘I didn’t know he was in town. He must come to dinner.’

‘Oh, no. He’s not here yet. He had to stay behind to finish some work. I don’t know when he’ll be arriving, and… well, I’ll ask him, anyway, if you’re sure you don’t mind?’

I shake my head. ‘Of course not.’

‘How’re you and Connor getting on now?’

‘Much better.’ She nods. ‘He seems to have got himself a girlfriend.’

‘A girlfriend?’

I feel a flash of pride. ‘Uh-huh.’ I pull up at some traffic lights. In the wing mirror I see a cyclist weaving through the traffic, coming up too close. ‘Though he won’t talk to me about it, of course,’ I add. ‘He barely even admits that she exists to me, though he seems to talk to Hugh.’

‘Is that usual?’ She sounds genuinely interested. ‘For him, I mean?’

I think of what Adrienne has told me. ‘It’s probably usual for all teenagers.’ I sigh. The lights change and we pull away. We’re almost at Great Portland Street. Nearly there. I’m happy Connor’s growing up, sad that must also, inevitably, mean growing away. I remember talking to Adrienne about that, too, a few weeks ago. ‘It’s something they go through,’ she’d said, then she hesitated, corrected herself. ‘Well, not exactly go through ,’ she said. ‘They don’t really come out of it. This is the first stage of him leaving you, I’m afraid…’

I glance at Anna. ‘He doesn’t want to come out with us when we go out any more. He just stays in his room…’

She smiles. ‘So you’re sure it’s a girlfriend?’

‘Oh, yes. I think so, though he tells me to mind my own business, of course.’ I don’t tell her I insisted he showed me a photograph, this morning, after much discussion with Hugh. She looks a little older than him. I’m still convinced it’s the girl from Carla’s party, though he’s certain she wasn’t there. ‘She’s a friend of a friend of his. They met on Facebook.’ She looks at me with a knowing smile. ‘Hugh’s spoken to him about her. They chat online, apparently, though she doesn’t live far away.’

There’s a long pause, then she says, ‘And did you ever hear from that guy again? Lukas?’

‘Oh, no. I haven’t heard from him at all.’

I’m glad I’m driving; I can take my time to answer, decide what to say. I can pretend my silences are due to an increased need for concentration, rather than the fact that I’m finding the conversation difficult. I can fix my gaze on the road, disguise the expression on my face. I can skirt the truth as I tell her what’s been going on. As much as I feel I can confide in Anna, I feel shame, too.

‘So Hugh—?’

‘He doesn’t know any of it,’ I say quickly. I glance at her. She’s looking at me, her face impassive. I try to lighten the tone, to reassure her that I know I was stupid but it’s over now. ‘He’d never… he wouldn’t understand.’

‘Oh, God, I won’t say anything to Hugh! Don’t… I just wouldn’t.’