Chapter 85 Reader
One of my favourite places in Muswell Hill is the bench beside the ancient oak tree in the Grove.
Look one way and you can see the whole of London spread out against the sky.
Look the other way and you see parkland and an avenue of limes.
History has it that Dr Johnson himself once walked along this avenue.
These days, there is a constant stream of water from some unplugged leak, and a cattle-drive of buggies, dogs and toddlers.
Stephen joins me and hands me a coffee from the Grove Café.
He’s dressed in his most casual attire, and I can’t help feeling a simple attraction to him, like two magnets drawn together.
I want to hold him and be held by him. I have this feeling of comfort in his company.
Perhaps it’s my pregnancy, but given our recent interactions, feeling anything positive is an achievement.
‘You wanted to meet,’ I say, looking into his clear blue eyes.
He says, rather sheepishly, ‘I read her diary. Beginning to end.’
‘Well, it looks like we’ve both been taken advantage of by scurrilous lovers. I had mine killed, what did you do with yours?’
‘I suggested we break it off,’ he says. ‘She plans on going back to Dubai. Finding a wealthy partner in London since the Russians left is a nightmare, apparently.’
‘Death or Dubai has a ring to it, don’t you think?’
‘I’ve been a fool, Lalla. I had no idea how manipulative she is or, more importantly, how weak and stupid I am. I don’t know what to say.’
‘I’ve heard the done thing in such circumstances is to say sorry.’
‘It’s not really adequate, is it?’ he says, and sits down next to me. ‘But I am sorry.’
We both stare out across the London skyline. Behind us a father plays football with his daughter and their dog. Their cries of joy and disappointment punctuate our conversation.
‘I can’t expect you to forgive me, but I wanted to tell you that I know I got it wrong,’ he says.
‘We all get mixed up sometimes. I’m sure I’m not an easy person to live with. I never felt it was over between us, you know. Not in my heart of hearts, wherever that may be.’
‘I suppose it’s a midlife crisis, of sorts.’
‘Next time, buy a Ferrari.’
‘It felt like something real, but at the same time I always knew it wasn’t . . .’
‘It’s the past. It calls to us all. Feels like it might offer certainty when the present doesn’t. It’s best not to listen. The past lies something terrible.’
‘She still wants her diary back,’ he says.
‘I bet she does. Who’d want evidence that they’re a mercenary narcissist shared around? Anyway, she wasn’t much of a writer. I hope the sex was better than her descriptions.’ I smile. I’ve never been jealous like that. It helps sometimes not to feel. It allows you to care less.
‘No comment,’ he says. ‘But she’s going to troll you online for ruining her make-up and stealing her Prada handbag if she doesn’t get her teddy bear back.’
‘Well, I’m happy to settle with the bear – minus two arms.’
‘How do you feel about everything?’
‘I’m sure your mother’s malign influence was partly to blame. Georgie seems quite an impressionable forty-year-old.’
‘I haven’t told my mum that I know what she did. Paying Georgie a fortune to get back with me. It’s outrageous, but I think she’s too frail.’
‘Oh, I think you should, Stephen. There are precious few means available to legally kill a parent, it’d be terrible to waste the opportunity.’
‘Now, now,’ he says, and sips his coffee. ‘But the thought did cross my mind, too.’
We sit for a moment in silence. I’m imagining an order of service for Madeleine’s funeral, opening with Beethoven’s ‘Ode to Joy’.
I’m not sure what Stephen is thinking of, but then he turns to me, and says, ‘You had a lucky escape at the river. I was terrified when I heard. I was so scared of losing you. We’ve got a lot to thank Cait for. ’
‘I just hope the jury agrees with you.’
‘God, what a mess I made of something so good,’ he says, and puts his hand next to mine on the bench. ‘I suppose we run away when things are tough.’
‘There’s no future in hiding. Ask Nelly. You always get found eventually. Better to face the present.’
‘Hear, hear,’ he says, and we clink paper cups.
‘To you and me,’ I say. ‘Whatever that might look like. Nelly and Nathan deserve a little longer with us, and Leo needs a family.’
Stephen’s hand moves over mine. We sit for three whole minutes in silence, and I’m not sure what happens in that silence, but by the end of it, I know we have a future and so, I think, does he.
‘I got my job back,’ he says.
‘That’s good to hear.’
‘Josh went out of his way to help. He’s a good guy.’
‘He sure is,’ I say.
‘And I’ve got something else to tell you?’
‘Georgie’s terminally ill?’
‘I’m a partner. Just heard.’
I look at him. The power of a to-do list and electrocution is truly inspiring. ‘Well done, you, and all on your own merit. And it means we can afford Adams.’
‘She got in?’
‘Your daughter is a clever girl.’
‘That’s great. Wow. I expect several challenges ahead.’
‘She’ll be fine,’ I say. ‘She just needs boundaries. That’s what we all need.’
Somewhere behind us, parakeets screech, dogs bark and a little girl scores a goal. Times change, and we have to change with them.
‘And what about us?’ says Stephen, looking down at our hands. ‘I can’t imagine being without you.’
‘Then don’t,’ I say, and smile.