We All Live Here

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-one

Lila

Lila breaks first. She texts him on Thursday morning, after deliberating for an hour. It is the thought of Eleanor’s exasperated Well, why don’t you just ask? that finally propels her to the little keyboard on her phone.

Hey—are we still on for this evening?

He doesn’t reply for a couple of hours—probably stuck in meetings—and then just after midday her phone pings.

Sure. Early drink? You okay to come to near my work? Can’t be back late because of Lennie.

Early drink is a little disappointing, carrying as it does the implication that it will finish fairly quickly, but everyone’s lives are complicated at Lila’s age, and she knows this better than anyone. And, besides, Lila is determined not to let this date be too big a deal. She works until two, if you can really call scrolling distractedly through the internet work and, yes, she goes to get a blow-dry but she’s wanted to try out the new salon on the high street for ages. And while she’s there it seems daft not to get a manicure, because manicures always make you feel better about life generally—she read that in a magazine. She wears her good lingerie because it’s important for women to feel good, even if nobody is going to see it. And if she takes a long time to get ready, it’s because the weather is really changeable at the moment and she isn’t sure what kind of venue they’ll be meeting in (googling the bar really doesn’t help—what if they’re seated outside?) so the fact that she takes most of the day to get ready is really just a coincidence. As is the fact that she gets there twenty minutes early and has to hover at a street corner in Clerkenwell two blocks away so that she doesn’t look too eager. You can never tell with public transport, these days.

He arrives ten minutes late, walking into the bar in a bluster of apologies. A meeting overran, he’s so sorry, he hopes she hasn’t been waiting long. The bar—a pub that has clearly been stripped back to wood and white, its tables marble and its chairs mismatched and antique—is swiftly filling with office workers, people jostling for tables and shedding bags and formal jackets, the detritus of the working day. She stands to accept a kiss on the cheek, and feels herself color at the contact. “No! No, it’s fine. I just got here.”

She had bought herself a still water, and he buys a beer after he checks that she doesn’t want anything else. He’s in a soft, midnight blue shirt and light brushed-cotton jeans, and she suspects his wardrobe is full of such clothes: unshowy in a way that tells people in the know that they cost a fortune. She’s in a black V-necked sweater and black jeans, an outfit so neutral that she could fit in anywhere. He smiles as he arrives back at the table, and sits down, and for one terrifying moment she wonders if she’ll be able to speak, if they’ll have anything to talk about.

“So you escaped today’s school run, then?” he says, his eyes crinkling.

“My stepfather does it half the week.” He has slim, slightly tanned fingers, and there is a callus on his middle finger, probably from all the architectural drawing. “Also, that way I get an occasional break from seeing the Bendy Young Mistress.” She blushes as she realizes she shouldn’t refer to Marja that way. “That’s what my stepdad calls her,” she adds quickly, glancing up at him, but he’s smiling. He is actually beautiful when he smiles.

“Hah. He’s quite right. Nice to have someone at home to help, though. Half the time I feel like I’m running on the outer limits of what’s possible. Lennie seems to have so many appointments and after-school things. Half of them her mother put in place before she went, and I haven’t the heart to tell her she can’t do them any more.”

Lila really wants to ask about his wife, but feels it may be too early in the date, so she says: “What does Lennie like to do?”

“Ballet, modern dance—although between us, she’s like a baby elephant clumping around the room. Zero natural ability, bless her. She does a needlework class nearby on Saturdays and horse-riding on Sundays. We gave up Mandarin Chinese. That was the one thing I felt was a little overboard. I mean, she’s barely seven.”

They talk aimlessly about children and schedules and the impossibility of work-life balance for a bit, and Lila tries to focus on what he says, but the physical reality of being near him seems to send her nervous system into a kind of rapid spiral. When she looks up from her drink he is gazing at her, his expression soft.

“It’s nice knowing you’re going to be at the school gates. It always makes me feel better.”

“Really?” She can’t keep the surprised pleasure from her voice.

“Yeah. This past year has been…a struggle. I feel obliged to pick Lennie up as much as possible, just so she knows I’m there for her, but I find that whole school-mums thing pretty bizarre. I wouldn’t know what to say to half of them. And being a guy on your own in the playground makes you an object of—I don’t know—attention? Curiosity?”

Lust , she thinks. Lust. And then puts her fingers against her mouth to stop her saying it aloud. “I know what you mean,” she says carefully.

“Of course you do. You’ve been there too.”

“I can’t bear them,” she blurts out. “It’s like being judged every day by the worst people. I mean, before, I thought it was just because I worked. And a lot of them don’t. They’ve made their children their career. And that’s fine! Each to their own and all that. But there was always this unspoken disapproval because I hadn’t managed to make cakes for the bake sale, or get the right uniform ready, or prepare a Harry Potter outfit for World Book Day. And now that Dan has gone off with Marja, well, it’s a different kind of attention altogether.”

Oh, God, but his eyes are so beautiful. Blue-green, suddenly made darker and more distinct by the color of his shirt. He has a way of focusing on her intently, as if everything she said contains an impossible worth.

“That must have been really tough.”

She can only nod.

“You know he’s going to regret it one day, right? You must know that.”

She finds it hard to believe Dan is actually going to regret finding the woman of his dreams, with her smooth caramel skin, exotic accent, and subscription to Interiors magazine. But she nods, as if she’s surprised by and resigned to this sad twist of Fate.

“Are you okay, though?” he says. “If it’s not too personal, I mean, are you over him?”

This is probably a loaded question. Like she could suddenly become the woman on Jensen’s date who cried and rambled on about her ex-boyfriend. So she smiles broadly, and says emphatically: “Oh, yes. With hindsight I can see we weren’t right for each other.” She fiddles with an earring. “I’m fine. I mean, it was horrible at the time, but in the long run it’s probably for the best.”

“And are you seeing anyone?”

This is most definitely a loaded question.

“Not right now, no,” she says, after considering for a moment, as if there has been a queue of suitors she has reluctantly decided to wave off for now. “I’ve been trying to focus on the kids.”

He nods understandingly.

“You?”

He looks down. “Like you, just focused on Lennie, really. What I really want to do is bury myself in work and not think about anything, but she’s a great kid and I need to make sure she gets through this period unscathed. Or as unscathed as she’s going to be.” He keeps looking down. “I guess I’ll find out in ten years when she’s in therapy.”

“I’m sure she’s doing okay,” she says. “You’re clearly a great dad.”

He raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. His hair flops briefly over one eye and he pushes it back. “I’m not sure she’d agree with you. I’m pretty sure she’d say there’s way too much homework and bath-time and violin practice and not enough television watching and McDonald’s.”

“You’re clearly very cruel.” She smiles so he knows she’s joking.

“The worst. But she only has to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs when she’s really bad.”

She is not one hundred percent certain, but she thinks his knee might be touching hers under the table. At first she had thought it was the table, but there is a definite warmth emanating from it, and when he laughs, it moves slightly. When she establishes that, yes, it definitely is a knee and not the table leg, she is almost paralyzed by what it might suggest. She barely hears the next few things he says. Her knee has become radioactive, sending heat through the rest of her body. It’s almost unbearable.

“Lila?”

“Mm?” She drags her attention back to the table.

“Did you want another drink? A real one this time?”

A brief dilemma. She doesn’t want to seem like a killjoy—haunted as she is by the way Dan would roll his eyes at this point—but at the same time she feels as if she needs all her wits about her. She needs to be the best version of herself she can possibly be. But if he’s suggesting they both have a drink, does that mean…

“Uh—vodka tonic? Hell, let’s make it a double.” She grins, as if this is just how she rolls. “What are you having?”

He stands, reaches into his pocket. “I won’t have one. I have to drive Lennie back from my mum’s later.”

Afterward, she thinks she has never felt so intensely aware of her body in her life: her smile, the angles from which he will see her, the way her hands move on the table. She tries to drink deceptively slowly—the vodka tonic is very strong—and to be light, entertaining company. She asks him a few serious questions—how long he was married (twelve years), how they met (through a friend), whether he had always wanted to be an architect, but it is only with the last question that he speaks freely. He answers any questions about his wife with the shortest possible responses and looks away when he speaks. She thinks losing his wife must have been deeply traumatic, and not just for their daughter. He seems a lot more comfortable asking questions of her, wanting to know about the girls, how it is dealing with a teenager. (“Oh, God,” he says drily. “I’m going to have to lock her in that cupboard for six years, aren’t I?”)

“Do you miss her?” Lila says, before she can stop herself.

“Who? Oh—my wife.”

“Yes.” Lila feels suddenly prurient, as if she has overstepped. But he holds her gaze long enough for her to color slightly, his head dipping while he thinks.

“I do miss her. But…” He winces. “…we had just separated before she died. So it’s complicated.”

Lila does not know what to say.

“She was an amazing woman. Everything was very passionate, very high octane. But it could be a little exhausting.”

“I know someone else who had a relationship like that,” Lila says, suddenly thinking of Jensen. “He said he sort of became acclimatized to the drama.”

“You do. But people like that also leave a huge hole. She was very vibrant. And a fantastic mother.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. My taste in women has changed now. I value something a little calmer.” He looks directly at her as he says this.

His knee is still pressed against hers so she feels emboldened. “Can I ask why you split up?”

He looks briefly uncomfortable. “She…was surprisingly insecure. I think she saw things that weren’t there, if you know what I mean. I just eventually…ran out of reassurances.”

“Oh, that’s tough.” She wants to say something about how jealous Dan had been but in truth there had been whole weeks when she was not even sure he knew she was still in the house.

“By the way, people don’t know much about all this at school. I’d appreciate it if you—”

She is just shaking her head reassuringly, in a way that suggests there is nothing she cannot keep secret, when his mobile phone rings. He looks down at the number and his face falls. He glances up at Lila. “Excuse me,” he says, “I have to take this.”

He stands as he answers it. “Hi. No, she’s not with me. I’m out.” He turns and starts weaving his way through the packed tables, turning briefly to give Lila the universal sign for I’ll only be a minute .

She sits, watching him walk out onto the pavement, where she can see him in animated discussion. He does not look happy as he walks backward and forward. At one point he takes a deep breath, as if he is trying to control himself. Finally he ends the call, takes a moment, then turns and walks back in. When he arrives at the table she is gazing at her phone, as if she is reading emails, oblivious, and she looks up, her face blank. “Everything okay?”

“I’m really sorry. I’m going to have to leave,” he says, and Lila struggles to stop herself looking crestfallen. He does not sit down again. He doesn’t elaborate further.

It takes her a beat, and then she gets up, reaching for her bag. “Oh! No problem! I should probably head home myself.”

He walks her to the tube station, suddenly distracted and quiet. The streets are still thick with people walking home from work, the road heavy with slow-moving traffic and she realizes that this is it, the end of the date. A busy tube entrance at a quarter to eight in the evening rather than a late night inching-together of bodies on a sofa. He is not going to see her special lingerie, and now she has hand-washing that she could have avoided. She feels heavy with disappointment. She stops beside the tube entrance, stepping against the wall so that the steady deluge of people feeds past them. “Well, that was nice,” she says, because she cannot think of anything else to say. She isn’t sure he’s even listening anymore.

Gabriel looks at her, suddenly intent, as if he’s just spotted her there. “Lila, it was lovely. Really lovely. You don’t know what a special person you are. I—I would have had a very different kind of day without you. I love that we got to spend some time together. You’re the one person I feel I can really talk to. You really…seem to understand what I’m dealing with.”

He takes her hand then and, as she watches, lifts her palm to his lips and, placing it over his mouth, kisses it, his eyes locked on hers. The intimacy, the blatant sexuality of the gesture knocks her breath clean from her chest. She is about to speak, but then, with a nod, he turns and is striding down the road. She is pulled into the crowd and heading into the station, her entire body ringing like the vibrations of a giant bell.

···

“Darling, they love it. They’re putting together an offer and I’ll call as soon as I have it. But, my goodness, I loved it too. How absolutely thrilling. How liberated! What an utter inspiration you are!”

Lila is just walking back from the tube station when Anoushka calls. She is so locked into her memories of the last couple of hours that it takes her a moment to grasp what her agent is even talking about. “Oh!” she says, and stops on the pavement. “They really liked it?”

“Just the right amount of sexiness and naughtiness. I was totally in your shoes for the whole chapter. And what a dreamboat! Please tell me you’re seeing the mysterious J again.”

Lila doesn’t want to think about Jensen. She wants to think about Gabriel, the way his wrists emerge from his shirtsleeves, the floppy lock of hair that falls just in front of his glasses. She wants to think about the hot, soft pressure of his lips on her palm. She can still feel their imprint on her skin.

“Oh. No. I don’t think so. I’m—I’m sort of seeing someone else now.”

Anoushka’s voice is shrill: “Another man! Already! Oh, Lila, you really are living the dream. Is he as nice?”

“Better.” Lila can hear the smile in her voice. “He’s basically everything I want in a man.”

“You must be giving off pheromones! You’re every middle-aged woman’s fantasy!” Anoushka always speaks in exclamation marks, but today they’re extra emphatic. “You must tell me your secrets! Rupert has been the most dreadful bore this year. It’s like all he wants to do is sit on the sofa and watch The Repair Shop every night. I need to be rolling around in a workshop being filthy with some gorgeous stranger! You need to include a how-to guide in your manuscript!”

“So,” Lila drags her attention back to the call, “what do you think they’ll offer?”

“I’ve told them if they want a pre-empt it’s got to be a good six figures. And she didn’t balk. So let’s wait and see. But I have high hopes. High hopes!”

Anoushka rings off and Lila walks home in a daze. It takes her two streets to realize that the unfamiliar feeling she is flooded with is hope.

···

That night, after the girls have gone to bed (or after Violet has gone to bed: she has no idea how late Celie stays up in her room), she watches an episode of La Familia Esperanza . Estella Esperanza is being pursued by a younger man, the gorgeous doctor who treated her bullet wound from two episodes previously. His expressions of love are ardent, and he seems to understand the deep conflict within her. But she doesn’t take him seriously, locked as she is onto the memory of her husband, her obsession with separating him from his younger lover. Lila, who is eating a packet of shortbread biscuits in lieu of dinner, takes a short breath as the doctor lifts Estella’s hand to his mouth, flooded again with the feel of Gabriel’s lips on her palm, the strange, erotic certainty of the gesture. Estella pulls away her hand, furious and vulnerable, and says something in rapid-fire Spanish that is subtitled: You make too many assumptions! Don’t touch me!

Lila stares at the screen, then looks down at her phone. She types: Really loved seeing you today. Let’s do it again soon x

It makes her blush even to type it. She waits a few minutes, but he doesn’t answer. There are no pulsing dots suggesting a carefully crafted reply, nothing. Her message disappears into cyberspace and hangs somewhere in the ether. Don’t overthink it, she tells herself, as she feels her post-date high start to plummet. He’s a busy man. And he was clearly having a bad evening. She wonders, briefly, if she should be a more high-drama kind of woman. Whether that would make men respond to her, make her absence an unforgettable hole in their lives.

And then her phone buzzes.

Me too, Bellissima. See you very soon x