Chapter 26.
Now
Lara suggests dinner at a Thai place on Tombland. ‘I want to meet Ash. And you can get to know Felix better.’
Once again, my instinct is both to accept her invitation and reject it. I have no idea how to balance the simultaneous desires I have to love her, and deplore her.
But I agree, partly because I’ve always adored the restaurant’s building, next to the thirteenth-century gate on the south side of the cathedral. It’s Grade II listed and beloved by building nuts for its mansard roof and decorative tiling, dormer gables, mullion windows. There are lampposts on the cobblestones at the front of the building too, which always makes coming here feel a bit like stepping back in time. I suppose tonight, in lots of ways, it is.
Inside, it’s busy, but Lara raises a hand, so we spot her straight away. She stands up when we reach the table. Her angel-blonde curls are loose around her face, skimming her shoulders. She’s wearing the skinniest jeans I think I’ve ever seen.
A couple of nights ago, I told Ash why Lara and I fell out. He listened quietly, then said, ‘Well, I think it’s great you’ve been able to get past it.’
I didn’t know quite what to say to that.
‘Wine?’ Ash asks, once we’ve all said hello and sat down, and Lara’s complimented Ash’s shirt, and Felix has told us about their taxi driver, who jumped every red light on the way here before nearly rear-ending a bus. ‘Felix, Lara – red, white, rosé? Or beer?’
‘Actually,’ Felix says, ‘just sparkling water for us, I think. We’re detoxing.’
‘From what?’ I say, looking between him and Lara.
‘A touch too much fast living,’ he says smoothly, which though it answers my question, still feels like an evasion, a response prepared beforehand.
Back at uni, Lara used to sneer at people like Jamie’s mum, with her juicer and personal trainer and quarterly commitment to water fasting. Every time she does it I swear she shits out a little bit more personality , she’d say.
Still. I know it’s far from my right to judge a single thing about her lifestyle now. ‘We can stick to soft if you—’
‘Oh, no, please,’ Lara says, quickly. ‘No point all four of us suffering.’
So Ash and I order white wine, and Lara and Felix get sparkling water.
Ash asks Felix more about the company he founded. He tells us about the tech, which is something to do with AI-powered robots. Its primary application, he says, is infrastructure inspection within the mining and oil and gas industries. They were taken over by a multinational two years ago, but Felix stayed on as CEO, pocketing a hefty windfall in the process – though he’s far too classy to say how much, of course.
He really is California-handsome, I think, as he talks, with his designer smile and twenty-four-carat charm. Lara was never in a hurry to meet her soulmate, but I always felt sure that when she did, he would be a Felix.
‘But you played tennis professionally before that?’ Ash says.
‘I did. The two careers overlapped for a little while, actually.’
‘Do you ever miss it?’
‘No,’ Felix says, thoughtfully. ‘I still play. And believe it or not, I’m even more passionate about what I’m doing now. It feels useful in a way that tennis didn’t. And the field I’m in is just so exciting. But I’m still involved in sport. I’m actually hoping to set up some kind of a tennis academy one day. But that’s more of a long-term goal.’
‘What brought you to London? When you met, I mean,’ I ask, keen to hear the story from his side.
‘I was here on business,’ Felix says, sipping his water. ‘I had some meetings lined up, and a friend of my agent invited me to a party.’ He looks over at Lara. ‘And we got talking, and... well. Let’s just say, I didn’t go home for the next six weeks.’
Ash laughs appreciatively.
‘We had five nights in the Savoy,’ Lara says, ‘then he came to stay with me in Twickenham. You’d love my flat, Neve. It’s on the top floor of one of those lovely old mansion blocks. And it has views of the Thames.’
‘Mmm,’ Felix says. ‘If you squat at an exact height, tilt your head and squint.’
Ash laughs, and I want to too, but something about the way Felix says this makes me bristle. Even though I’m sure he’s not intentionally being unkind. It takes me back to what she said about him being the first guy she thought I might approve of. But am I seeing what she sees?
Lara tells us more about being a production designer, the various shows she’s worked on, the ups and downs of freelancing in the entertainment industry. She says she’s between projects at the moment, which is why the timing’s been perfect for her to come back to Norwich for a while.
At this, I notice her exchange a glance with Felix. She squeezes his hand, and I wonder what it means. Whether the truth is that in fact, he doesn’t really want to be here at all, marooned in this small English city, sleeping in the spare bedroom at her parents’ house. I wonder if perhaps she had to beg him to come; what she had to promise him in return.
Is that a man who knows her worth?
‘How long are you taking a break for?’ Ash asks.
‘Oh, you know. Pieces of string, and all that.’ By her side, Felix doesn’t take his eyes off her. She shifts in her chair, sips her water. Then she asks Ash what he does for a living.
He turns to me in slight surprise, then back to her. ‘Oh. Well, I’m an architect.’
Is it me, or do her eyes double-take slightly? ‘Really? In Norwich?’
‘Yep. At a company called Crave & Co.’
‘Great name,’ says Felix, finally shifting his gaze away from Lara.
‘Do you enjoy it?’ Lara asks.
‘I do. I love it. I was born to it, I think.’
‘What kind of stuff do you like to work on?’
‘Well, mostly I just love a challenge.’
‘What sort of thing?’ asks Felix.
Ash sips his wine. ‘Well, an example might be... persuading a client to go for a rebuild, instead of refurbishing. Or adding modern design to period properties in a way that feels really innovative, but still does justice to both elements, you know? And clients with particularly niche requirements – they’re always fun.’
‘Like what?’ Lara says.
I smile into my drink. Knowing Lara, she’s probably thinking sex dungeon .
‘Well, right now, I’m designing a property around the precise movements of the sun. And the clients want a moat to swim in, too.’
‘A moat ? What the hell are you designing, a castle?’
‘I suppose you could say it’s the modern-day equivalent.’
‘Has Neve shown you pictures of Felix’s place?’ Lara says, excitedly.
Ash turns slightly in my direction again, then smiles at her and shakes his head. ‘Not yet, no.’
‘Oh,’ she says. I can just detect the brightness fall from her voice. ‘Well, I’ll show you some other time. But the design is just... breathtaking. Open-plan, four-storey, views of Monterey Bay. And a tennis court, of course.’ She puts her elbows on the table, making a cradle for her chin with her hands. ‘So, what’s your absolute dream project?’
Don’t say it. Don’t say it .
‘Well, the ultimate would obviously be to design an iconic structure. To have my name on something world-class, like... a concert hall, or a museum, or—’
‘—the next Gherkin,’ Lara chips in, speaking slowly. And then she looks directly at me, and her eyes say, What the hell?
Luckily, at this point, our main courses arrive and the moment moves on.
Before we eat, Lara throws back a handful of brightly coloured tablets from a rose-gold box retrieved from her handbag.
Next to her, Felix is doing the same. ‘Orders of the detox,’ he says. ‘You wouldn’t believe how many rules we’re breaking tonight just to have a stir-fry.’
I notice Lara squeezing his hand again, looking right into his eyes. Reassurance, perhaps, that she’s fully on board with his health obsessions?
The noodle dish she’s chosen has pretty much zero kick. In the old days, she would have been the one ordering a curry with three chili symbols and a warning triangle on the menu, furiously refusing any fluids that might counteract the heat.
As we start eating, Lara suddenly looks up and lifts her fork, tapping it against the air. ‘ Oh ,’ she says, to Ash. ‘I knew I was missing something. I remember you.’
My heart leaps to my throat.
‘Weren’t you the guy who got struck by lightning?’
‘What?’ Felix says, incredulously.
‘Yes!’ she says. ‘I read about it at the time. My mum cut something out of the paper for me. She was trying to distract me, probably. I think the headline was something like, ASHLEY’S MIRACLE ESCAPE .’
‘Your real name is Ashley?’ I ask him, wondering how I managed to miss that.
‘I mean, only officially. Nobody ever calls me that. Not even my parents.’
‘Hold on,’ Felix chips in. ‘You... got struck by lightning?’
‘Yep,’ Ash says, politely. ‘It was a long time ago, though.’
Felix gapes for a couple of moments. ‘What... in the hell does that feel like?’
‘I don’t actually remember, fortunately.’
Felix nods, holds up a hand. ‘Apologies. Didn’t mean to pry. Just... wanted to make sure getting struck by lightning wasn’t one of those British turns of phrase I don’t quite get.’
By now, opposite me, Lara is sitting up very straight. ‘It was just around the corner,’ she says slowly, like the pieces are slotting together in her mind. ‘It was the same night, Neve. It was the same night as—’
I shake my head at her silently, pleading with my eyes.
‘The same night as what?’ Ash says, looking between us both.
Despite having searched for Jamie online, I guess he never checked the dates. And I know he hasn’t made the connection between his accident and Jamie’s death. Why would he?
‘Nothing,’ Lara says quickly, rearranging her shocked expression. ‘Sorry. Nothing. Crossed wires.’
Back at my place, Lara calls as I’m in the kitchen getting water. Though her avatar is blank, it still feels strange to see her name on my phone screen after all this time.
Ash is upstairs, stuck messaging in a group chat, but I shut the kitchen door, just to be sure.
The world has quieted, the only light the diffuse orange glow of the streetlamp from the alleyway behind my garden.
‘Are you by yourself?’
‘Yes, I’m in the kitchen.’
‘Okay. I’m going to say something now, and I want you to promise you won’t flip out.’
The floor tiles feel cold as concrete against my bare feet. ‘He reminds you of Jamie.’
She exhales. ‘Is that why you like him?’
Absent-mindedly, I slot my phone between my ear and my shoulder. Then I shake out a cloth, spray disinfectant onto it, run it across the surface of the worktop. ‘No... I mean, maybe that was what drew me to him at first, but...’ I trail off. I want to tell her the truth. About what I really suspect happened that night. But she’ll think I’m crazy. Won’t she? Or has a part of her mind started to make the same impossible connections, too?
‘They are... incredibly alike. It’s kind of weird,’ she says, but then nothing further. And I can tell there is so much more she is holding back from saying, because we still haven’t talked about what happened when Jamie died.
But she knows how raw it still is for me. How hot and toxic it remains, all these years later.
‘There’s something I have to tell you,’ I say, rubbing at the worktop in an attempt to bring up a shine.
She waits.
‘It’s about Ash.’
‘Go on.’
Above my head, the floorboards creak. ‘Actually, you know... I can’t do this over the phone. Let’s meet next week.’
‘Okay.’ A moment passes. ‘Neve?’
‘Yes?’
‘What do you think of Felix?’
I release a breath. ‘I like him.’ This much, on a base level at least, is true.
‘But?’
‘Who said there’s a but ?’
‘If there wasn’t a but you’d have said, I love him, Lar, he’s perfect for you .’
I smile into the phone. I appreciate her attempt to pretend we’re ten years in the past, enjoying the kind of late-night gossip we used to live for.
I think about how intensely Felix kept looking at her, earlier. The way she kept squeezing his hand, and what it might have meant. Is he controlling? In need of constant placation? And if so, how the hell is he the right guy for the Lara I used to know – or, come to that, anyone?
‘He’s... I don’t know.’ I sigh. ‘Maybe you’re just very different to how you were when I last knew you.’
‘Stop being cryptic. I actually want to know what you think.’
But how is what I think relevant, really? I have a vague, nagging sense that perhaps he’s overprotective. That he might have crazy ideas about health and diets (not least that a stir-fry is the devil’s work). But these are merely impressions. Hunches. He’s pleasant enough. Cordial and perfectly charming. And the reality is, until a couple of months ago, Lara and I were estranged. I’d need to spend hours, days, weeks with both of them before I could arrive at any kind of fair conclusion about how well-suited they are for each other.
‘Why?’ I ask softly, in response to her question, blinking into reflected lamplight. I rinse the cloth, fold it over the tap, straighten its rumpled edges.
‘Because it’s important to me. Because you’re my oldest friend.’
Was .
‘And I know we still need to talk about what went on with Jamie, and everything... but what you think will always matter to me, Neve.’
I exhale. ‘Let’s talk next week.’
‘Okay. Neve?’
‘Lar.’
‘I really do love him, you know.’
‘I know,’ I say, because that’s not what I feel hesitant about.
‘And for what it’s worth? I think Ash is in love with you. It’s written all over his face, the way he feels.’
I feel a blush of pleasure creep through me, thinking about the heart he sketched onto my steamed-up shower screen before we left the house tonight. ‘It’s only been a couple of months.’
‘So? Do you love him?’
It surprises me, the swiftness with which my whole body says yes. The certainty is like a tiny wingbeat inside me, right in time with my heart.
‘Yes. But it’s so fast to feel this way,’ I confess. I think of my mother, how quickly she gets in deep with people. How fiercely I’ve resisted doing that, since all the devastation with my dad.
‘Want to know how long it took me to fall in love with Felix?’
‘Go on.’
‘A day . Well, a night, actually. Well, about five hours.’
‘That’s not like you.’
‘No,’ she agrees. ‘But that’s how you know it’s love.’
Upstairs, after Ash has dropped off to sleep, I stay awake for hours, blinking into the blackness, listening to the gentle percussion of his breath. Wondering for the millionth time if I’m losing my mind.
I have a craving to get up and clean something – anything – to try to stem the overwhelm of my thoughts. But I resist. I don’t want Ash to wake up and find me scrubbing down the toilet at three a.m. in a pair of rubber gloves.
By nature, I’m a sceptic. I’ve never been into ghosts, or past lives, or those psychics who tell you your dead nan’s got a message for you. I’ve always believed that when you’re gone, you’re gone. Which was maybe why losing Jamie was so hard. I could never really draw comfort from the idea that he was looking down on me, or that if I talked to him, he was listening. When he died, it was as if he’d simply vanished – evaporated like morning mist as the sun rose without him. He was dead, gone for ever.
So how can I possibly turn my back now on an unexpected chance to reclaim him? To live out the future that was stolen from us? Ash is, in a million tiny ways, the person Jamie was destined to become.
I’m pretty sure Ash won’t take it well, if I tell him any of this. But I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t try. I need him to know that on the night of his accident, I believe that – mad as it sounds – Jamie’s spirit occupied his body somehow. That what Jamie and I had was too good, too magical, for our premature goodbye. That our love simply shed its leaves for a season – a winter that arrived without warning – and now our summer has come again.