The Dilemma

‘Only because she made a fuss about not having a pet of her own. Why – would it have made a difference if I’d told you Murphy was to make up for trashing your fort?’

‘Maybe. I mean, if you accept a peace offering, you’re kind of accepting to make peace, aren’t you? Communication, Dad, it’s all about communication.’

We sit in silence for a while, finishing our beers.

‘I’m glad you accepted that internship in New York,’ I say, deciding to communicate how much it means to me.

‘Right,’ he says. ‘Shall we have another beer?’

‘Good idea.’

I sit there, waiting for him to go and fetch them.

‘Go on, then,’ he says, nudging me.

‘What?’

‘Go and get the beers. It’s your turn.’

Such a small thing. But as I make my way to the kitchen, it feels amazing.

Livia (#ulink_258b330e-7ee4-5d31-b7a9-0ae8ffa94c9d)

Kirin turns off the main road into an all-too-familiar street and my heart immediately starts beating faster.

‘What are we doing here?’ I ask, trying to hide my alarm.

Kirin laughs. ‘Picking up Jess, of course!’

‘She’s coming with us?’

‘Yes! We wanted it to be a surprise.’

I take a minute to digest the news, to control my emotions. I’m glad Jess is coming, of course I am, she’s my oldest friend. But it’s become complicated.

‘Will she be alright?’ I ask Kirin. ‘It won’t be too much for her, will it?’

‘She’ll be fine. But she doesn’t want to drive anymore, which is why we’re picking her up.’

As we pull up in front of Jess’s house, I take my bag from the floor and rummage inside, feeling awful that I didn’t know she no longer felt up to driving. But how could she tell me when I haven’t seen her for weeks?

‘I need to send a text,’ I say apologetically, taking out my phone.

Kirin snaps off her seatbelt. ‘No problem, I’ll go and get her.’

I keep my head bent over my phone, listening to her footsteps as she walks up the path. There’s the peal of the doorbell and for a moment I forget to breathe. Then I hear Jess saying hello, the front door closing behind her, and the two of them coming back down the path, chattering excitedly together. Only then do I get out of the car.

‘Jess!’ I say, as she walks towards me, leaning heavily on her stick. I give her a hug, careful not to knock her off balance.

‘Happy birthday!’ she says, hugging me back.

‘Thank you. It’s so lovely to see you!’

‘It’s been a while,’ she says softly.

‘I know and I’m sorry. It’s been a really busy time, with the party and everything. Here, let me help you.’

‘I’m fine sitting in the back,’ she protests.

‘Don’t be silly, you’re going in the front.’ I take her arm, helping her in. She seems frailer than I remember and worry stabs at me.

I’ve known Jess for years. We were at school together and I was with her the night I met Adam at a friend’s party. Adam was with Nelson and although Nelson was the one with all the jokes, I was immediately drawn towards Adam, not just because he was amazingly handsome in the way most boys his age never are, but also because of the way he looked right into my eyes when he spoke to me. His eyes have always mesmerised me; they’re the most beautiful grey, and Marnie has been lucky enough to inherit them.

By the end of the evening, we’d arranged to go out as a foursome the following week and I couldn’t wait to see him again – until Jess asked me if I’d mind if she paired up with Adam. He must have been looking into her eyes too, I realised miserably. But seeing him with Jess was better than not seeing him at all, I decided, and Nelson was a lot of fun to be with. And it was only for an evening. We went to a club – something my parents would have forbidden if they’d known – and I found myself alone with Adam. He admitted later that he told Nelson he’d only go on the date if Nelson agreed to babysit Jess for the evening, so that he could be with me.

In one of life’s unexpected twists, Jess is now married to Rob, Nelson’s younger brother. Their daughter, Cleo, is Marnie’s best friend, I’m Cleo’s godmother and Jess is Marnie’s, so we’re a kind of extended happy family. Then, two years ago, Jess was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.

‘Everyone in?’ Kirin asks, starting up the engine.

‘Everyone in,’ I confirm, fastening my seatbelt. ‘This is such a lovely surprise. I can’t think of a better way to spend my birthday than with my two best friends.’

I might not have known Kirin as long as I’ve known Jess, but ever since Nelson introduced her to me and Adam, she’s become a really close friend. There were times when Adam and I wondered if Nelson would ever get married. He finally did, at thirty-four, which isn’t old, it just seemed that way because we’d been married for fifteen years by then. It happened quickly too. His and Kirin’s was definitely a whirlwind romance, but I’m not surprised. Not only is Kirin incredibly lovely, she’s also incredibly beautiful, with long dark, sleek hair and gorgeous olive skin, a legacy of her Indian heritage.

I think Adam was relieved that Nelson was no longer single. It had been hard for him during those early years, seeing Nelson going off on his Harley Davidson with his friends from the motorcycle club, while he took Josh and Marnie swimming, or to the park, or on nature walks. Even when Nelson met Kirin, our day-to-day lives remained poles apart because they had the freedom to do whatever they wanted, go wherever they wanted, without having to think about anyone else. Then the twins came along, then Lily, and now Nelson doesn’t go anywhere without them in tow, except on Sunday mornings when he gets to ride his bike down to the coast.

‘Rob was asking if Adam intends taking his bike out tomorrow,’ Jess says, catching uncannily onto my train of thought. ‘You know, as you won’t get to bed until the early hours of the morning.’

‘I doubt that only getting a couple of hours’ sleep will stop Adam from doing what he loves best,’ I say shortly. And then I want to kick myself because I’ve made it sound as if I don’t want Adam to go out on his bike, which isn’t the case at all.

It’s true that motorbikes used to be a sore point between us, but only because of what happened a couple of years into our marriage. When Josh was a few months old, we moved from his parents’ house, where we’d been living since our wedding, into our own flat. Money was tight, as everything Adam earned seemed to go on Josh, so I began to take in ironing. People would drop off baskets of crumpled clothes on their way to work and pick them up, on their way home, neatly ironed. I only took two baskets a day, but ten a week meant we could just about make ends meet because, in an attempt to get Adam to turn up for work on a regular basis, Mr Wentworth only paid him for the hours he actually worked. It meant that his salary varied from month to month and sometimes, we couldn’t pay the rent.

After a couple of months, without telling Adam, I began to put ten pounds out of the hundred I earned each week into a shoebox, which I kept at the bottom of the wardrobe. I missed the holidays my parents had taken me on and I wanted to rent a cottage in Cornwall as a surprise for him and Josh.

One Saturday, about the time I was thinking of booking the holiday – because after two years, I’d finally saved enough – I came back from the supermarket, heavily pregnant with Marnie, and saw a motorbike parked in the road outside our flat. Guessing that Rob was there, because I knew from Jess that he’d recently bought a bike, I touched it and found the engine hot. I was glad he’d only just arrived; any earlier and he’d have woken Josh from his afternoon sleep. But when I went up to the flat, there was only Adam, sitting on the sofa, and I knew straightaway that something was wrong from the look on his face.

‘Where’s Rob?’ I asked, putting the shopping bags down on the floor.

‘He’s left.’

I put both hands on my back, easing the ache from it. ‘Isn’t that his motorbike outside?’

‘No.’ He paused. ‘It’s mine.’

‘Yours?’

‘That’s right.’

Stunned, I sat down opposite him.