‘Yes, I have a little.’ I turn my attention back to Sorcha. ‘I’ve done it a few times, actually. But not for a while. I’m a bit rusty, I should think.’
‘Have I taught you before?’ Sorcha looks at me quizzically.
‘No, I don’t think so.’
I can almost feel Sadie’s ears prick up, as she swings into an upright position and beams at Sorcha. ‘No, Emily hasn’t been here before. She used to go to one in the centre of town, didn’t you, Em?’
‘Oh, only a couple of times.’ Feeling awkward under the scrutiny of Sorcha’s gaze, I tug the sleeves of my thin cardigan over my hands, against the chill of the air conditioning.
‘Maybe I did see you once or twice? You do look familiar. I filled in a few times at a class over that way. You know, Sadie, the one that Caro used to like?’
I freeze, as my cheeks start to burn. I didn’t realize that this class was going to be taught by someone who knew Caro, someone who had taught Caro yoga. I throw Sadie a panicky look, to let her know that I don’t feel at all comfortable with things, but Sadie is chattering away to the woman on the mat next to her and doesn’t notice.
‘I don’t think so,’ I manage to stutter, my fingers fluttering to my sleeves again, ‘I only went once or twice. Like I say, I’m a bit rusty.’
Sorcha smiles and says something about loosening me up, but I can’t keep my focus on her. I feel more than a little furious with Sadie for drawing attention to me, and also for bringing me to a class where the instructor knows Caro. Embarrassment makes my cheeks burn hot and red, as if everyone knows that I am the second Mrs Milligan, and they are all comparing me to Caro. I lean down and fuss with my mat, making sure it’s straight before turning my attention to my feet.
An hour later, I am too sweaty and exhausted to be annoyed at Sadie anymore, and the thinking time the yoga class has afforded me has made me realize that if I fall out with Sadie then I really will be lonely, especially now that Mags and I are barely on speaking terms – I called Mags when we got back from our honeymoon, hoping to make amends for not inviting her to the wedding, but Mags cut me off and when I called back the phone was switched off.
‘How about lunch back at mine in an hour? I’ll text Amanda and see if she wants to join us,’ I suggest to Sadie as we leave the class. Nervous, the words tumble out, leaving me slightly breathless. I’ve never invited Sadie to do anything with me before, aware as I am that she was Caro’s friend, but I’m not quite ready to be on my own yet today, and the idea of stepping through the front door knowing that I have company for the afternoon gives me a lift.
‘Oh. That sounds… lovely. OK,’ Sadie says, as if surprised that I would want to have lunch with her. Surprised, and pleased, I think. ‘I’ll give you a bit of time to freshen up, shall I?’ She casts her eye over me, and I am aware of my sweaty hairline, and the way my T-shirt sticks to my back and shoulders.
I hurry past the line of cabs waiting for their next fare, opting to walk instead. I still can’t get used to the idea of jumping in a cab for a ten-minute journey, when I could walk home and take in the beauty of where I find myself living now. I’ve never lived in a village before, and I still get a little shiver of glee as I walk through the main street, shaded by trees, giving little nods to the postman, the woman who works in the local shop. Feeling as though they recognize me as one of them, as though I belong, at last. My smile soon fades as I catch sight of my reflection in the shop window, my face pink and flushed, and I hope that Sadie gives me enough time to spruce myself up properly before she arrives.
The house is still and empty when I let myself in, dust motes swirling as I step towards the stairs. There is a faint scent of something I can’t quite place in the air, something sweet and floral. All things I still can’t quite get used to. The flat was always noisy, whether Mags was home or not, thanks to the constant buzz of traffic and the banging and shouting of the takeaway guys downstairs, and it never smelled fresh – a combination of kebab meat and Mags’s constant weed-smoking made sure of that.
Shedding my sweaty yoga gear, but not quite managing to leave it on the floor for the cleaner to pick up – unlike Rupert, whose trousers and shirt from yesterday still lie in a heap by the laundry basket – I jump into the shower, eager to rinse the sweat – and Sorcha’s mention of Caro – out of my hair. As I lather up, I berate myself for being so touchy about Caro. Caro lived round here for years, it’s inevitable that I’ll meet people who knew her, go to places that she went to. It’s hardly Caro’s fault that she was married to Rupert first. I have to remember that I am the one married to Rupert now, Rupert chose me. I turn off the shower and am just stepping out onto the mat, wrapping myself in a huge, fluffy bath towel, when I think I hear something.
My heart starts to race in my chest, and I step off the mat, padding silently across the tiled en-suite floor to the carpet of the bedroom. There it is – the snick of a door closing shut. Grabbing a robe
