there when you get back home.
And even if they’re not, that they’l be back eventual y. With Oli, it got to a stage where even though he was there, he wasn’t real y present. There were so many things we couldn’t discuss, didn’t discuss: Should we move to a bigger place? When should we have children? Why are you never around any more?
Anyway, it is with surprise one Saturday that I look round and realise it’s April, and I’m going back to Cornwal the fol owing week, for the launch of the foundation.
Yesterday, I had a cal from Emilia’s Sister. Charlotte, the owner, said she had to cal , because they’d sold eight necklaces that Friday alone –
that doesn’t sound like much, but it’s a classic Columbia Road shop, one that does most of its business on Saturday and Sunday, so that’s pretty good news, amazing in fact. Earlier in the week, I found out I had a place at that business seminar I signed up for. It’s in a couple of weeks. It’s free, and as far as I’m concerned, I need al the help that I can get.
It’s funny, but once you admit you’ve screwed up and don’t know what comes next, it’s easier to accept help. I have had my own business for a couple of years, and it’s only now I realise how much I have to learn, look it square in the face. It’s scary. But scary in a good way. I’ve been used, these past months, to scary in a bad way. A swirling mist of uncertainty, of misery and sadness that hung on my shoulders like a heavy cloak and which I could never seem to shake off. Every day it seems to get lighter.
Jay and I have lunch at a Vietnamese cafe round the corner from his flat. I’m meeting Cathy later, we’re going to see a film and then for a bite to eat afterwards so I can hear about Jonathan, who has suggested they go away on a
After we’ve ordered, Jay says, ‘I spoke to Dad while you were getting the paper.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ I say. ‘He says Miranda went, like, last Monday. Ten, twelve days ago.’
‘I know, that was the day I moved in with you.’ I love how precise Archie is, he has al the information.
‘Wel , she’s not coming back til Tuesday.’ He puts his elbows on the table. ‘Did you know that?’
‘No,’ I say. I cross my arms. That’s two weeks she’s been away, why on earth? ‘Jay, I told you, I tried and tried to get hold of her before she went off to Fez, or wherever it is. I’ve cal ed her, OK? I’l see her next week, when we go back to Summercove.’ I bite my lip.
‘Al right!’ He holds up his hands. ‘Calm down. It’s going to be weird,’ he says.
‘I know. And kind of awful. Are you sure you won’t come?’ I ask, begging with my hands outstretched. He shakes his head.
‘Nah. Don’t mean to be funny, and I’l come if you real y want me to, but I’m not invited. We should go down in May, you know? Before it’s sold.
Have one more weekend there. I don’t want to be there with al those art people, al of that. Dad’s dreading it.’
He’s right. I’m not much looking forward to it. Since I moved to Jay’s, everything seems to be on a more even keel. Going to Cornwal is going to bring it al back again. I’m being a coward, I have to face up to it, real y, have to ask the questions I don’t have answers to. And it’l be good in many ways. I’l see Louisa. I’l see Arvind. I’l see the house, perhaps for the last time? Perhaps not. And I’l see my mum – although God knows if she’l turn up or not, even if she is supposed to be making a speech.
As for Guy, I haven’t heard back from him, so I’l see him there too. I don’t know what to say to him, either. I suppose I just have to wait til he wants to talk to me. I don’t understand why he’s gone silent.
‘Is your mum going?’ I ask hopeful y. ‘No, she’l be in Mumbai, won’t she?’ Sameena’s sister is not wel again, so she’s going over to look after her family. ‘Like I say, Nat,’ Jay says again. ‘If you need me to be there, I’l be there. It’s just hard with work and everything. I’d rather go when I can spend some proper time with Arvind, remember the house the way I want to, not with a load of posh people asking me stupid questions about Granny.’ The waitress puts two beers down on the table and Jay takes a big gulp. ‘I wouldn’t know what to say to them, anyway, would you?’ I shake my head. ‘It’s private. Her being our grandmother hasn’t got anything to do with whether she was a good painter or any of that.’
Perhaps I’l never be able to tel him what our grandmother was real y like. But as I watch him I think, what would be gained by tel ing him, anyway? How would it help him, to know the truth? It wouldn’t. His father hasn’t ever told him, and I’m not going to. He doesn’t need to know. Jay has a family of his own, parents who love him, his own secure set-up. And yet again, I wish Mum was here, so I could say to her, I know you shielded us from the truth because it would have hurt us, and how much it must have cost you, and I am grateful. We al should be.
After lunch, we walk to the Central line Tube together. Jay is going into Soho to pick something up from his office before meeting his friends, and I feel like a wander, so I say I’l come with him. The daffodils are out in the square and the sky is blue. Final y, it feels as if spring might be on the way.
The winter has been too long.
We walk to Liverpool Street. Jay is texting his buddies, arranging some complicated plan for this evening involving a club somewhere in Hackney, with drinks at some speakeasy beforehand. When we get to King’s Cross, Jay shakes his phone, waiting to get reception as we walk through the cavernous station to change lines. The big, echoing corridors are ful of people racing for trains, hurrying onwards, going back home.
The strip lighting is harsh; I blink to try and see straight, thoughts crowding my head.
‘Man, what’s up with Samir and Joey tonight?’ he says in exasperation, staring at his phone. ‘No one’s around, this is shit.’
‘Hey, Jay,’ I say suddenly. ‘I’m going to get off here, OK?’
‘What?’ he says. ‘I’m going to go and see Guy.’
‘Who? Oh, the Bowler Hat’s Guy. Why?’
