Second Life (30 page)

I arrive at St Pancras, order a mineral water from the champagne bar and sit down.
From my seat I can see the statue at the end of the platforms where I met Lukas,
all those weeks ago.

I sit facing it. Memories come back; there’s pain, but it’s dulled, bearable. I think
of it as a test. He’s won enough. I just have to get over him, finally and completely,
and here is where I can start. I sip my drink as the train comes in.

I see Anna through the glass partition that separates the trains from where I sit.
She walks down the platform, her phone pressed to her ear, with a case that’s surprisingly
large for the week she’d told me she was going to be in London. I watch as she ends
her call then disappears down the escalators. She looks serious, as though something’s
wrong, but just a few minutes later she’s in front of me, her grin huge and instantaneous.
She looks delighted, relieved. I stand, and she envelops me in a hug.

‘Julia! It’s so good to see you!’

‘You, too.’ My words are lost in the folds of the silk scarf she’s wearing. She squeezes
me, then lets go. ‘Is everything okay?’

She looks puzzled. I nod towards the platform she’s just walked down. ‘When you got
off the train. You looked worried.’

She laughs. ‘Oh! No, everything’s fine. It was just my office. Some mix-up. Nothing
major.’ She looks at me. ‘You look well. In fact, you look beautiful!’

I thank her. ‘You, too.’

‘Well . . .’ she replies, and there’s something about the way she smiles that makes
me think her delight isn’t just because of seeing me again. She has something to
tell me, something she’s been bottling up but can hold in no longer.

‘What is it?’ I’m excited, too, and intrigued, though already I wonder if I’ve guessed.
I’ve seen the same expression before; I’ve even worn it myself.

She laughs.

‘Tell me!’

She grins and holds up her left hand. A moment later I see it: a ring on her finger,
catching in the light from the windows above.

‘He asked me . . .’

I grin, but for the briefest moment all I feel is jealousy. I see her life, and it’s
one of excitement, of exploration and passion.

I hug her again. ‘That’s wonderful. Truly wonderful!’ I mean it – my initial reaction
had been unkind, but short-lived – and I look at the ring. It’s a single round diamond
in a gold setting; it looks expensive. She begins talking. He asked her just last
week. ‘He had the ring, he didn’t quite go down on one knee, but . . .’ She hesitates,
clearly remembering. ‘I wanted you to be one of the first to know—’

I force a smile. I’m jealous on Kate’s behalf. It’s as if her death has somehow set
Anna free. She doesn’t seem to notice, though. She squeezes my arm. ‘I just feel
very close to you, Julia. Because of Kate, I suppose. Because of what happened.’

I take her hand. ‘Yes. Yes, I agree. I guess sometimes it’s not so much about how
long you’ve known someone, but about what you’ve been through together.’ She looks
relieved: we really are friends. I let go of her hand and pick up her bag before
linking my arm in hers. ‘So,’ I say, as we begin to walk towards the car. ‘Tell me
what happened! How did he ask you?’

She seems to jump to attention, her mind was wandering, back into the memories, I
guess. ‘We went to the Sacré-
Coeur,’ she says. ‘I thought we were just going for
a stroll, to look at the view, you know, or maybe get some lunch.’ The words tumble
out of her mouth, all exclamations and half-sentences. As they do I’m swept up in
her enthusiasm and I feel bad about my earlier reaction. I wonder if it hadn’t been
jealousy but simple sadness. Sadness that this joy had been visited on her, and not
Kate.

As she talks I think back to Hugh’s proposal to me: we were in a restaurant – our
favourite, in Piccadilly – and he’d asked me between the main course and dessert.
‘Julia,’ he said, and I remember thinking how serious he looked, how nervous. This
is it, I’d thought, for the briefest of instants. He’s brought me here to end it,
to tell me he’s met someone, or that now I’m better, now I’m cured, it’s time for
me to move on. But at the same time I thought it couldn’t possibly be that; we’d
been so happy, over the previous few months, so much in love.

‘What?’ I’d said. ‘What is it?’

‘You know I love you. Don’t you?’

‘And I love you . . .’ He smiled, but didn’t look particularly relieved. I think
that’s when I first realized what he was about to say.

‘Darling,’ he began. He took my hand across the table. ‘Julia, I—’

‘What, Hugh? What is it?’

‘Will you marry me?’

The happiness was instant, overwhelming. There was no romantic gesture, no going
down on one knee or standing up to announce his intentions to the other diners, but
I was glad of that; it wasn’t his style, and neither was it mine. He was a good man,
I loved him, why would I say no? Plus, he knew me, had seen me at my absolute worst,
knew everything about me.

Almost everything, anyway. And the things he didn’t know were the things I’d never
tell anyone.

‘Of course!’ I said back then, yet still some part of me hesitated, the part that
felt I didn’t deserve what Hugh was offering, what he’d already given me – this second
life. But the relief that flooded his face told me I was making the right – the only
– decision.

I realize Anna’s stopped speaking. I force myself to snap back to the present.

‘He sounds perfect!’

‘Yes. You know, I think he is!’

‘And he’s from Paris?’

‘No. He’s based there. His family’s from somewhere down in Devon.’ She grins. ‘This
visit is a bit too rushed. I’m meeting them in a few weeks.’

We get to the car and I put her bag in the boot. Once we’re buckled up and I’ve started
driving she tells me again the story of how they met. ‘Well,’ she says, ‘I told you
about the dinner party?’ She sighs, as if their meeting were an inevitability, a
coming together of the fates. I say yes, even though I’m not sure she did. She goes
on to tell me anyway, about how they clicked straight away, about how instantly perfect
it felt.

‘You know when something doesn’t feel sensible, but just feels
right
?’ she says.

‘I do,’ I say, turning the wheel. I sigh. ‘I do.’ She thinks I’m talking about Hugh,
but I’m not. I’m thinking of Lukas. I’ve been trying to pretend to myself that I
don’t miss him, but I do. Or rather, I miss what I’d thought we could have had.

I believed he knew me; it felt like he’d cracked me open and seen through to who
I really am. I’d convinced myself he was the only person who could still do that.

‘. . . so we think we’ll carry on living in Paris for a bit,’ says Anna, ‘and then
maybe move back here.’

‘Good idea. So, remind me when you met?’

‘When? Oh, it was just after Christmas. It was a few weeks before Kate . . .’ She
stumbles, corrects herself, but the damage is done. ‘. . . Just before I met you.’
I smile, but she can see I’m upset. I can talk about Kate, now. I can think about
her. But such an explicit reference to her death, coming from nowhere, still throws
me. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘Me and my big mouth . . .’

‘It’s okay.’ I don’t want to dwell on it, and neither do I want her to feel guilty.
Anna is the last person I should expect to avoid the topic of my sister. Nevertheless,
I change the subject. ‘But it all seems to have happened very quickly,’ I say. I’m
thinking of Lukas again, of how rapidly I’d fallen. ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying
that? I mean, are you sure?’

‘Oh! Yes, you’re right! But no, I’m totally sure! We both are,’ she adds. ‘He says
the same. Neither of us thought there was any point in hanging around, when we’re
so certain.’

She’s silent for a moment. I can feel her looking at me as I drive, no doubt weighing
up what to say, wondering how much happiness I can stand. ‘You know, I think in a
weird way it’s all connected with Kate. With what happened. It just reminded me that
life is for living, you know? It’s not a rehearsal.’

‘No,’ I say. It’s a cliché, but only because it’s true. ‘No, it isn’t.’

‘I think that’s what Kate’s death taught me.’

‘Really? I feel it’s taught me nothing.’

It comes from nowhere. I wish I could unsay it, but it’s impossible.

‘Don’t say that.’

‘It’s true. All I’ve done is try to escape it.’

And look where it led me. I spent the summer obsessed with Lukas, a man ten years
younger than me, falling in a love that I was stupid enough to think might be reciprocated.

I’d ended up running from a pain that I owed it to my sister to experience, and I’ll
never be able to repay that. It feels like a final betrayal.

‘I’m just feeling sorry for myself. Ryan sounds wonderful. I can’t wait to meet him.’

‘You will! He might be coming over, this week. He’s not sure. You might even meet
him on Monday.’

‘I didn’t know he was in town. He must come to dinner.’

‘Oh, no. He’s not here yet. He had to stay behind to finish some work. I don’t know
when he’ll be arriving, and . . . well, I’ll ask him, anyway, if you’re sure you
don’t mind?’

I shake my head. ‘Of course not.’

‘How’re you and Connor getting on now?’

‘Much better.’ She nods. ‘He seems to have got himself a girlfriend.’

‘A girlfriend?’

I feel a flash of pride. ‘Uh-huh.’ I pull up at some traffic lights. In the wing
mirror I see a cyclist weaving through the traffic, coming up too close. ‘Though
he won’t talk to me about it, of course,’ I add. ‘He barely even admits that she
exists to me, though he seems to talk to Hugh.’

‘Is that usual?’ She sounds genuinely interested. ‘For him, I mean?’

I think of what Adrienne has told me. ‘It’s probably usual for all teenagers.’ I
sigh. The lights change and we pull away. We’re almost at Great Portland Street.
Nearly there. I’m happy Connor’s growing up, sad that must also, inevitably, mean
growing away. I remember talking to Adrienne about that, too, a few weeks ago. ‘It’s
something they go through,’ she’d said, then she hesitated, corrected herself. ‘Well,
not
exactly
go through
,’ she said. ‘They don’t really come out of it. This is the
first stage of him leaving you, I’m afraid . . .’

I glance at Anna. ‘He doesn’t want to come out with us when we go out any more. He
just stays in his room . . .’

She smiles. ‘So you’re sure it’s a girlfriend?’

‘Oh, yes. I think so, though he tells me to mind my own business, of course.’ I don’t
tell her I insisted he showed me a photograph, this morning, after much discussion
with Hugh. She looks a little older than him. I’m still convinced it’s the girl from
Carla’s party, though he’s certain she wasn’t there. ‘She’s a friend of a friend
of his. They met on Facebook.’ She looks at me with a knowing smile. ‘Hugh’s spoken
to him about her. They chat online, apparently, though she doesn’t live far away.’

There’s a long pause, then she says, ‘And did you ever hear from that guy again?
Lukas?’

‘Oh, no. I haven’t heard from him at all.’

I’m glad I’m driving; I can take my time to answer, decide what to say. I can pretend
my silences are due to an increased need for concentration, rather than the fact
that I’m finding the conversation difficult. I can fix my gaze on the road, disguise
the expression on my face. I can skirt the truth as I tell her what’s been going
on. As much as I feel I can confide in Anna, I feel shame, too.

‘So Hugh—?’

‘He doesn’t know any of it,’ I say quickly. I glance at her. She’s looking at me,
her face impassive. I try to lighten the tone, to reassure her that I know I was
stupid but it’s over now. ‘He’d never . . . he wouldn’t understand.’

‘Oh, God, I won’t say anything to Hugh! Don’t . . . I just wouldn’t.’

‘It was a bit of fun. You know? A distraction. Good while it lasted.’

‘Oh, yes. Totally. Of course . . .’

Until it wasn’t fun any more, I think.

‘He’s vanished, anyway.’

‘You sound disappointed.’

‘Not at all.’

There’s a longer pause, then. I’m tense, embarrassed, because we both know how my
affair with Lukas ended. The silence goes on; each of us waits for the other to break
it. Eventually she does. She asks me what my plans are for the week, and I tell her.
A bit of work, I might catch a movie. At last we reach the hotel.

‘Ah, we’re here.’

We pull up. The place is surprisingly nice, though nothing like as grand as the places
Lukas was taking me to. ‘Want me to come in?’

She shakes her head. ‘It’s fine. You probably need to get on.’

It’s an excuse, and I smile. I’d like to catch up some more, but she looks tired;
I’ve forgotten she’s here to work, will probably want to have a rest before preparing
for her conference in the morning. There’s plenty of time for catching up when she
comes round for dinner.

We get out and I get her case from the boot of the car. ‘See you on Monday, then.’

She asks what time she should arrive. ‘And what shall I bring?’

‘Nothing, nothing at all. Just yourself. I’d better give you directions,’ I say.
She takes her phone out of her bag.

‘Oh, I’ll use this.’ She swipes through more screens. ‘It’s so much easier. There.
I’ve added you . . .’

I don’t know what she means. ‘I don’t—’ I begin, but she interrupts me.

‘Find Friends. It’s an app that shows where your friends
are in relation to you.
On a map. It’s standard. Check your emails.’

I do. There’s a new message. ‘Accept that invitation,’ she says, ‘then our profiles
are linked. I can see where you are on the map, and you can see me. I use it all
the time back home. After Kate died it was kind of reassuring to know where my friends
were.’

She takes my phone and shows me. A map opens, showing where we’re standing. Two dots
pulse over each other. ‘One for me, one for you,’ she says.

I look at the screen. Underneath the map there’s a list of people who’re following
me. Anna’s name is there, but underneath is another. Lukas.