The Good Part(35)

Lying in bed, listening to the sound of Sam in the next room, I feel disturbed that I found that whole scene slightly arousing. ‘Man holding baby’ is not something I would have put on my list of things that do it for me. Man in uniform, sure. Man jumping out of his car to stop traffic so an old lady can cross the road. Definitely. Man running from burning rescue shelter with a dog under each arm, yes, yes, a hundred times yes. But man holding baby. No. Never. Not once has this come up in my internal image library of ‘things I find hot’.

Trying to distract myself from these confusing thoughts, I turn to my bedside table. Two rings sit in a silver, leaf-shaped dish. They are both gold, one with a band of tiny diamonds all the way around, and the other a simple diamond solitaire. Picking them up, I admire how tasteful they are. I slip them onto my ring finger – they fit. But then an old superstition niggles – you should never wear someone else’s wedding ring. Besides, it feels wrong, these weren’t given to me. I quickly take them off and banish them to the bedside drawer, picking up my phone instead.

There’s a new message from Michael Green.



Hope the team bonding went well, sorry I had to slip away early. I’ve put a meeting in your diary for Monday to discuss the Gary/Kydz Network email. I know you’re confident we’re doing the right thing, but if I’m honest, I’ve been feeling a bit sick about it all week. M



Whatever this email from Gary is about, it sounds important. I’m going to have to come clean with my colleagues. But the thought of telling them deflates me. I loved being at work on Friday, seeing what Future Me had built. Unlike the role of wife and mother, being a TV producer is not such a stretch for me to imagine. I want to be Queen Badger, producer extraordinaire. As soon as my colleagues know the truth, they will know I don’t belong.

Despondently, I scroll through various WhatsApp chats until I come across one that I recognise: Fairview Forever. After seeing Emily’s transformation, I’m nervous about discovering how much my school friends might have changed. Cautiously, I scan through recent messages. Faye sent something a few days ago, recommending a long-sleeved swimsuit for wild swimming. Before that, there was a conversation I was involved in, about whether it was acceptable for Roisin to be invited to her ex, Paul’s, wedding. Paul and Roisin broke up? Though it’s currently five in the morning I tap out a message to the group. I know Sam said to wait, that he would catch me up on everyone in the morning, but the lure of being less alone is too strong.


Lucy

Is anyone awake? Having a strange couple of days. Could do with seeing you all.


Faye

Of course. Barney DOES NOT SLEEP.

Who’s Barney? Her child? The idea of Faye doing all this nappy-changing, banana goo, parenting stuff makes me smile. With her relaxed, earth mother vibe, she’d be so great at it.

Roisin is typing.


Roisin

I’m awake. In LA. Work trip. Drunk. Gawwllaladshifuhf.

The message is so reassuringly Roisin, it feels like a hug through the phone from my old life.


Faye

Why strange few days? How did your pitch go for the bear show? Barney smashed my phone screen again so I’m catching up on messages.

I don’t plan on telling them what’s happened by text at five in the morning, it’s just nice to feel their voices through the phone.


Lucy

Pitch went well thanks. Nothing major, just need to see you all. Any chance you could come to my place one night this week?


Roisin

Sounds cryptic. Last time I called a mysterious group meet it was to tell you I was getting divorced. Tell me it’s not that, Luce?


Lucy

No! Nothing like that. Just need to see you all.


Roisin

I’m in LA until next weekend I’m afraid. Legal conference, blah blah.


Faye

Not blah blah – you’re the keynote speaker! I miss work, I miss travel, I miss wearing non-elasticated trousers.

So many questions, none of which I can ask.


Faye

I can come over whenever – if you don’t mind me bringing the sprog. Alex is away on an abseiling weekend. I know. Who the hell did I marry?

Who the hell did she marry? Alex. I want to know all about Alex. A new ache of loss hits me as I realise it’s not just my own life I’ve missed, it’s all my friends’ lives too. Roisin got married and divorced and is now giving a keynote speech in LA; Faye is married and has a child. Who knows what Zoya is up to? There’s nothing I would be shocked to hear. She could be the CEO of a huge corporation, or a barefoot painter living in the Himalayas.


Lucy

What are the chances of Zoya being able to come?

I don’t know where anyone lives, whether it’s too much to expect them to come to Surrey for the day, or if it would be easier to meet in London. When no one replies, I wonder if they’ve gone to tend to children or in Roisin’s case to the bar, but then my phone flashes: Faye calling. I answer with a whispered, ‘Hello.’

‘That’s not funny,’ Faye snaps down the phone at me. ‘Why would you say that?’

‘Say what?’

‘About Zoya.’ Her voice breaks, and I realise I must have made a major misstep.

‘Faye, I didn’t want to say over text, but’ – I opt for the rational explanation – ‘I’m having some memory issues. I know this will sound dramatic, but I woke up yesterday and I don’t remember anything about the last sixteen years.’ Silence. Faye doesn’t respond. ‘I’m fine, I don’t have a brain tumour or anything, the doctors checked. There’s just this huge chunk of time I know nothing about. I’m told it’s likely to be temporary.’