The years in between Luke and Quin had been very painful, especially at the start, but I didn’t go under. By the time I’d started seeing Quin, I’d changed: I’d got used to never feeling ‘safe’ – or maybe I’d got better at providing my own version of safety, a skill I wouldn’t have learnt if Luke hadn’t left me. Which meant that when I met Quin, there wasn’t as much of me to surrender as there once had been. It’s not that I was tougher, I was just better at self-care. And that had to be good.
The facts were: Luke had moved on – I’d seen it with my own eyes – and so had I. All that needed to stop now was the running commentary in my head, where I kept presenting my nice life to Luke to demonstrate how fine I was.
‘Is it this house?’ Quin asked. ‘Because we can change things. Or move somewhere new? Fresh start?’
He’d lived here since the end of his marriage, seven years earlier.
‘Maybe we could start in this room,’ I said. ‘Give it a bit of a makeover.’
‘You don’t like it? But … I bought us a new bed.’
It had been purchased at the same time as the hairdryer, along with new bed linen, towels and tons of scatter cushions. （‘Women love cushions, right?’）
I waved at the exposed brick walls and the sleek dark furniture. ‘This room is very … male.’
‘You should have said!’
But redoing Quin’s décor, making even small changes, would have implied a commitment I hadn’t been ready for.
‘So, Rach, let’s do it up! Whatever you want, we’ll do it.’
‘Even a “Live, Laugh, Love” light?’
‘You would never get a “Live, Laugh, Love” light. Which is the main reason you’re my favourite person.’ Then, ‘Hey! They’re all sold out! Those dry-robe things. This is bullshit.’
17
‘Those ones,’ Quin said. ‘Definitely that pair.’
I’d been modelling the three pairs of trainers which had arrived on Thursday.
‘Mmmm …’ I was still undecided. ‘And not these ones?’
‘Get both.’
I laughed. ‘No! Honest to God, Quin, you’re worse than me.’
If it were down to my most basic instincts, I’d keep all three of them, but I had to do things in moderation.
I picked up my phone and checked the screen. Still nothing. ‘Quin.’ I made an apologetic face. ‘I need to go home to walk Crunchie.’
‘No word from Kate?’
‘No.’ I’d texted a couple of times, but she hadn’t got back to me all day – which wasn’t like her.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Quin said.
The idea appealed – everything was nicer if I did it with him. ‘No. You’re shattered. I’ll go now, be back in an hour.’
‘Okay. I’ll sort out dinner.’
I was tipping food into Crunchie’s bowl when Kate’s key rattled in the door.
‘In the kitchen,’ I called.
‘Hi!’ Her eyes were bright. Too bright.
‘Hi … are you okay?’
‘Rachel, can we talk? I need to tell you something.’
Instantly I was alarmed.
‘That funeral on Friday? Devin’s granny’s?’
Hold on a minute here – ‘Devin’s granny’s’？ Surely she meant Luke’s mum’s?
‘Devin and I …’
Ah no, you’re joking. You are fucking JOKING me! ‘Devin and you, what?’
‘We … ah, yeah, we’ve been talking –’
‘“Talking”？’ Even I knew that that was a euphemism for an entirely different kind of communication. ‘How did he contact you? No, it wasn’t a real question. And?’
‘I like him. I think he likes me.’ More euphemisms. ‘I like him’ meant they’d probably spent the entire weekend in bed. ‘I think, maybe, we might be a thing.’
‘… You’ve known him two days?’
Colour flushed her cheekbones. ‘Nothing has actually, like, happened, he lives in his mum and dad’s and I didn’t want to bring him here until you and I had spoken … Look, it’s probably nothing, just a … nothing. But it didn’t feel right that you didn’t know.’
Guilt got me. Not only was she the sweetest person I knew, she was also an adult: she owed me no explanations.
‘Wait,’ I said. ‘Thank you for telling me. Sorry for being weird.’