S. Watson - Second Life

Hugh coughs. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. You get on with your step-brother, though?’

‘Brilliantly. We always have. He’s everything to me. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to him.’

I try not to react, but she must see my face fall.

‘Oh, God, Julia, I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry…’

‘It’s fine,’ I say. It’s the second time in only a few days that she’s referred clumsily, if obliquely, to Kate’s death. I wonder if she’s already over it, has almost forgotten it. I don’t for a moment think it’s deliberate.

‘Let’s go and eat?’

It’s a good dinner. I’ve made a chicken pie and it’s turned out well. Connor arrives not long after I serve the soup and sits with us. He seems to bond with Anna particularly well. She asks him about school, about his football; she even gets out her phone at one point and he helps her with something with which she’s been struggling. When we’ve finished the main course she helps me to carry the plates through into the kitchen, and when we’re out of earshot says, ‘He’s such a lovely lad.’

‘You think?’

‘Yes!’ She puts the plates down. ‘You should be very proud. Both of you!’

I smile. ‘Thank you.’ Her approval feels important, somehow. Significant. She says she’s going upstairs to use the bathroom. I direct her, then ask Hugh to give me a hand with the coffee.

He comes through. ‘How’re things?’

‘Good.’ I’ve made a pudding – a lemon syllabub – but now I’m wondering whether I should also put out the macaroons. I ask Hugh.

‘Both, I think. Is Anna driving home?’

I know he’s thinking about the dessert wine he has in the fridge. He’s become awkward about alcohol since I had to lie and say I’d had a drink with Adrienne; he won’t mention it, even though we still have it in the house. But he knows better than to try and manage my behaviour by pretending drink doesn’t exist.

‘No. Her boyfriend’s coming to pick her up.’ There’s a tingle of resentment. Hugh’s thinking of putting more wine out, but I can’t have any. I acknowledge it, then let it go. He gets the packet of coffee beans out of the cupboard and scoops some out. ‘How did you say she and Kate met?’

I tell him. ‘They were friends at school. They lost touch for a while, then reconnected.’

Dimly, it occurs to me that I’m thinking about Kate, talking about her, and it’s not painful. It’s because Anna’s here, I think. It’s getting easier, as long as it’s Kate’s life I’m thinking about, rather than her death.

I take the syllabub out of the fridge. Hugh finishes making the coffee and I call through to Connor and ask if he’ll fetch some dishes. He comes in almost straight away and the three of us carry the things through into the dining room, where we arrange them on the table. The family unity pleases me; part of me is disappointed that Anna isn’t here to see it. I call upstairs and ask if she’s all right. She shouts down, she’s okay, she’ll just be a minute, and when she appears she puts her phone on the table with a sheepish grin.

‘Sorry. Ryan called.’ She looks suddenly, radiantly, happy. ‘He’s on his way.’

‘He should come for dinner,’ says Hugh. ‘How long is he staying for?’

‘Not sure. Until next week some time.’

‘And when do you go back?’ says Hugh.

‘Saturday.’ She turns to me. ‘That reminds me. Do you fancy lunch on Saturday? Before I get my train?’

I tell her that would be lovely.

‘Okay, if you’re sure?’

I tell her I am. ‘You must invite Ryan in for a drink, too,’ I say.

‘Oh, no,’ she begins. ‘I wouldn’t dream—’

‘Nonsense!’ says Hugh. ‘He must come in!’ He turns to me, and I say, ‘Of course!’

Anna looks relieved. I pour her coffee. Connor asks if he can be excused and goes back to his room. We talk some more, sip our drinks, but the evening is winding down. After another fifteen minutes of chat we hear a car pull up outside. A door slams, there’s the pip-pip of the alarm, and a moment later footsteps up the path and the doorbell rings. I look over to Anna, who says, ‘He’s early!’ She looks electrified, like a little girl waiting for the postman to bring her birthday cards, and I feel a curious excitement, too; I’m looking forward to meeting this person, this man who has given Anna such transparent, uncomplicated happiness. Who has helped her grieve for Kate and move on.

I stand up. ‘I’ll go and let him in.’ I walk through, into the hallway. I rearrange my hair, smooth down the front of my shirt, open the door.

It’s Lukas.

I take a step back. It’s as if I’ve been punched; the feeling is physical and intense, my skin burns with a hit of adrenalin as instant as if someone had just plunged a needle into me. I can’t take my eyes off him. My body is reacting, my muscles tensed to fight or run. It’s the memory of his attack, burned into my body. As I look he cocks his head, just slightly, and smiles.

‘You must be Julia.’ He’s speaking clearly, his voice sounds loud, loud enough to be heard in the other room.

My mind is racing. All the panic and pain is coming back, wave after wave. Ride it out, I tell myself. Ride it out. But I can’t. For a moment I think it’s a game, another sick game. It’s as if he knows I only just deleted my profile, resolved never to ring him again. It’s as if he’s teaching me that I don’t get to decide when I let him go.

I feel as if I’m falling, the room behind me tips and spins.

‘What are you doing here?’ I say, under my breath, but he doesn’t reply. I realize I’m gripping the door frame. Shaking.

The smile hasn’t left his face. ‘Well, aren’t you going to let me in?’

I look away, look down, at the floor. Hugh, I think, in the other room. Anna, who’s expecting Ryan.

Connor, upstairs.

I look back up, so that we’re staring into each other’s eyes. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ I hiss.

He doesn’t answer, just stands there, smiling. I open my mouth to speak, to ask him again, for the third time, but then he glances over my shoulder and everything changes. It’s as if a switch has been thrown; his face breaks, he beams widely, starts chattering. He takes my hand in his, shakes it, as if he’s meeting me for the first time.

‘What—’ I begin, but then a moment later I realize Anna is right behind me. ‘Darling!’ she’s saying, and I think she’s talking to me, but then she reaches the doorway and goes to Lukas. He turns towards her, and then he has his arms around her and they’re kissing. It takes only a moment, but it seems to last for ever, and when they’ve finished she turns to me.

‘Julia,’ she beams. ‘Meet Ryan.’

Another wave crashes. A flush rises in my cheeks; I’m too hot. The hallway recedes; the sound of the music Connor’s playing upstairs seems somehow diminished and deafening at the same time, as if I’m hearing it at top volume yet through a fug. I feel as if I’m fainting. I reach out – for the door handle, for anything – but miss.

‘Honey?’ says Anna. ‘Are you all right?’

I try to compose myself. ‘Yes. I just… I don’t know. I feel a bit unwell…’

‘You look a bit flushed—’ says Lukas, but I interrupt him. ‘I’m fine. Honestly…’ And then a moment later the dynamic in the room shifts again. Hugh has appeared and I watch as he steps forward, saying hello. He’s grinning, shaking Lukas’s hand and saying, ‘You must be Ryan?’ He looks delighted to see him, to welcome him into our home. ‘Good to meet you,’ he says, and ‘How’re you?’ They look like two guys together, two old friends. My stomach clenches. My husband and my lover. Together.