Chapter 25
Joe’s booked a staggeringly swanky restaurant for our Friday night which already puts me on edge. Joe at his happiest is propping up the bar at that rundown pub he took me to on our first date, pencil behind his ear as he marks papers with a beer in hand. This place is formal, almost stuffy, and somehow doesn’t feel like the right fit for me to try and salvage our friendship. Still, I’ve gone into overdrive, chatting about the complex origami shape of our napkins, filling the void between us with bluster and desperate not to mess things up.
‘I can’t believe we’re in such a fancy restaurant,’ I add. ‘It’s got a Michelin star!’
‘I know.’ Joe grimaces. Grimaces! ‘I booked it ages ago, way before we …’ and he pauses for an awkward clearing of his throat. ‘Anyway, turns out we haven’t seen each other for ages and I figured it would be good to still come.’
‘Definitely! It’s really good to see you,’ I say honestly.
‘We ought to get a picture to post online, it’s been a while.’
‘Oh, right, of course.’ He’s bringing it back to the plan. That’s … fine. That’s what we’re here for I guess. Although maybe I thought we were here for our friendship.
After smiling awkwardly for a photo, I try to bring it back to us. ‘So, how are you?’
I’ve missed you, I don’t add.
‘Good, thanks,’ he says brusquely. ‘All good with you? How’s Lila?’
‘I … yeah, she’s good. Mad as always. She’s made a spaceship out of carboard boxes and spends most of her time in it. She won’t take it off for meals and she’s not made a big enough hole for her face so the rocket ship is now covered in ketchup.’
Foolishly, I thought this might make him laugh but it becomes clear that the old Joe isn’t here tonight. He smiles, and it’s not like he’s acting like a dick, but he’s different. Distant. He won’t look me in the eye at all. It’s like he’s gone back into self-protection mode, the kind of closed-off bravado I saw him deploy at the school gates when we first met.
The menu arrives, a single embossed sheet detailing ten courses.
‘We allow four to five hours for our gastronomic experience.’ A suited man delivers this blow with a bow. ‘There is a wine flight to accompany each dish if you’d like.’ My eyes hover over the price of the wine flight, well into treble figures, and I find myself wondering if ten extortionate wines might be the only sensible way of getting through this evening?
‘Water’s fine for me, thanks,’ Joe says.
Ooh great. A sober five-hour gastronomic experience with a date who hates me! Not what I ordered, but the only thing on the menu.
The teeny-tiny plates of food arrive with pomp and ceremony and I try my best to eat them with the decorum of a civilised person, rather than a mother whose last meal was some questionable ham at 11am because she was ravenous and the cupboards were bare.
‘Next up is something called “cheese and onion”,’ I read from the menu. ‘Do you think it will be a giant crisp?’
Joe gives me a tight smile. By the time “cheese and onion” arrives – not a crisp but a miniature bowl of onion broth with an aged cheddar crouton floating on top – Joe’s barely said a word. The only topic of conversation I can find that musters any enthusiasm is The Cookie Box, which he seems grateful to me for. But we quickly run out of steam. Again.
Everyone else is having a brilliant time. Mouthfuls of food are taken reverentially, followed by oohs and ahhs. One couple, already at the dessert end of the menu, are feeding each other spoons of something elegant and chocolatey. Another pair are giggling through their wine flight.
God! Joe and I are so lucky to be here and yet the mood between us is ruining what should be an incredible experience. I’m desperate to fix it but I don’t know how. Transport back in time so we didn’t ever kiss? Although, would I actually be willing to not have had that incredible kiss with Joe? I just don’t know, because part of me feels like I’ll remember every detail of that moment until my dying day. But it was as I feared. We sacrificed our friendship for it, which completely sucks.
I spoon up the last of the broth deep in thought. This will not do. And with Joe currently talking in monosyllables, I guess it’s down to me to deal with it.
‘This is shit,’ I say abruptly. ‘I fucking hate this atmosphere between us.’
Joe trails his gaze up to meet mine but doesn’t say a word.
‘Don’t you think it’s infuriating? We used to have so much fun together. And the kids did too. Lila and Sid haven’t hung out in ages. Every time I message you, you say you’ve got too much work on. I know it’s a busy time of year for you but seriously, it can’t be that bad. I feel like you’re fobbing me off.’
Joe shakes his head, almost angrily.
‘That’s not what’s happening. There’s a lot going on with my job that needs my attention right now.’ His comment hangs heavy, like there’s more that he could say about work, or something that he’s not telling me. ‘But I’m also trying to give you some space.’
‘I don’t want space! I miss you. I miss … our friendship.’
Joe’s gaze pins me to the spot and my stomach swoops and I have to physically sit on my hands to stop myself from reaching across the table for him. Why does he make me feel this way?
‘I miss you too,’ he says softly. ‘But …’
Then he holds both hands up, fingers spread wide, palms facing me as if he’s pushing me away.
‘But what?’ I press.
Joe turns his head to the side, looking off into the distance.
‘But your husband’s back—’
‘Ex-husband,’ I interrupt. ‘And I really don’t see what he’s got to do with anything?’
‘Oh for god’s sake, Sophie!’ Joe snaps.
I’ve never seen him like this before and I flinch, eyes wide.
‘Sorry,’ he says, sitting back in his chair. ‘I didn’t mean to react like that. I’m just trying to give you space to deal with all this family stuff you have going on, that’s all. And I need to protect myself, too.’
‘Protect yourself from what?’ I ask quietly.
He sighs and is about to say something. And then my phone rings.
I squirm and mouth I’m sorry and reach down to my bag to check it’s not an emergency about Lila.
It’s not. It’s Mark. Obviously I reject the call.
‘You don’t need to get that?’ Joes asks.
I shake my head. ‘Carry on,’ I say.
‘Where was I? Oh yeah, just, oh I don’t know, Sophie. I—’
My phone pings with a text.
God, who invented mobile phones?
I hadn’t put it back in my bag and as I turn it over to mute it, Mark calls again. Joe and I are both looking at my screen when his name flashes up.
‘You should take it,’ Joe says in a tight voice.
‘Absolutely not,’ I protest.
‘Just take it,’ Joe says. And this time he sounds weary. ‘I need to use the loo anyway,’ and he gets up, chucks his napkin on the table and leaves.
‘What?’ I say rather irately down the phone to Mark.
‘Hello to you too.’
‘I’m busy, Mark. Not a good time.’
‘Okay. Got it. It’s Friday night. I did just want to say I’m thrilled you’ve agreed to come back to Mylk It.’
‘No, Mark, I haven’t agreed.’
Yet. The thing is, I haven’t said no either. I’m still thinking about it.
‘Oh? My assistant seemed to think—’
‘I replied to her email with some further questions about the role, that’s all. I haven’t made my mind up.’
‘Okay. I can wait. Take all the time you need. And just quickly, before I let you go, have you had the chance to think about my other proposal?’
‘You mean seeing my daughter?’
‘Exactly,’ he says hopefully.
I’ve thought about this a lot over the past few weeks. And even though I’d love for him to disappear into thin air, I know that I have to make the right decision for Lila’s sake.
‘I’m happy – well, not happy – it’s fine for you to meet Lila,’ I reply, suddenly aware that Joe is coming back to the table. ‘But we do it on my terms, Mark. A neutral location, just for an hour or so, and we put her needs above anything else. If for any reason she seems upset or distressed then I will get her out of there, understood? My priority is that she feels safe. She’ll have a lot of questions so we need to be on the same page there, too.’
Mark sounds delighted. I can’t look at Joe as he takes his seat. Instead I study the plain white tablecloth with the phone as close to my ear as possible, hoping that Joe can’t hear how happy Mark sounds. ‘Of course. Thank you. You won’t regret your decision. It’ll be so good to see you again too, Sophie. I just know that this time round you and I are definitely going to make things work the way we want it to.’
Urgh. I hang up briskly, turning my phone to mute and putting it straight back into my bag.
‘Sorry about that,’ I say.
‘You’ve nothing to apologise for.’
‘I hate that he’s back,’ I admit. ‘But I can’t deny Lila the chance to get to know her real dad.’
‘It’ll be okay, Sophie. There’s a heap of baggage between you and Mark so your vision is going to be tainted by whatever happened in the past between you. Lila won’t have any of that, she’ll be meeting him fresh. Maybe he’ll be really good around her.’
It’s the most he’s said to me all evening, and so generously kind and reassuring that I find my eyes prickling with tears.
Joe unfolds an origami swan napkin and hands it to me.
‘I feel all at sea at the moment,’ I confess, desperate for us to get back to the days when things felt light and fun and hopeful.
‘I’m sorry you’re going through this,’ he says, and with that he seems to pull himself together. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’
‘Not really,’ I say.
‘Okay. Let’s not. Let’s enjoy our evening. Now, what course are we actually on? Because I’m not sure I can eat much more.’
This makes me smile. Just his renewed tone and energy lift the weight off my shoulders. ‘I’m so glad you said that, I’m stuffed already. But when I told Celeste we were eating here tonight, she got extremely excited and wanted to hear all about it. Looks like we’ll be in for a grilling on Monday.’
‘Monday?’
‘Joe Kitson, please don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about the next Barnaby’s Babes meeting?’
‘Ah shit, I had,’ he admits. ‘I’ve been invited to a … meeting early next week.’
‘Sounds mysterious.’
‘Not really. Just a work thing. I haven’t accepted yet but I think I will go.’
I get the impression that he doesn’t want me to ask any more questions, so I don’t. The thought of going to a wine and cheese night alone with the Mean Girls would have terrified me a few months back but now I feel more than happy to go solo. I always look forward to hanging out with Frankie, and even Celeste is more manageable now I’ve realised she’s got a mad crush on Joe.
‘No probs, I can make notes,’ I say.
‘You’ll love that.’
‘They will be colour coded!’ I grin. ‘So are you going away?’
Joe nods. ‘Yeah … up to York. Just for the night. It’s a work thing.’
‘Sounds exciting.’
‘It’s definitely not.’ He smiles, before firmly changing the subject. For the rest of the night we chat away almost – but not quite – like we used to do. Which is good. Because we are two grown-ups and I think we can move forward from this. Maybe I was just catastrophising before. One kiss is not going to lead to the end of our friendship. There’s a small voice that tells me neither of us are being completely honest with each other, but I ignore it, because it’s the only thing to do.