The Forgetting(45)

I glance down at my watch, see that I have been out for over an hour already. ‘I’d love to, but I don’t think I can. Stephen might phone soon and he’ll worry if I’m not at home.’

There is a fleeting quizzical expression on Zahira’s face. ‘Didn’t you find your mobile?’

I shake my head. ‘It was broken in the accident.’

‘But that was two weeks ago? Couldn’t you have got a new one by now?’ There is an inflection of curiosity in her voice, as though I am a puzzle in need of solving but have given her only the sparsest of clues.

‘Stephen’s ordering me one. He said it’ll take a few days to arrive.’

‘Won’t he just assume you’re out and phone back later?’

Again, the possibility skims before me like a kingfisher over a lake, but something pulls me back. ‘I don’t want him to worry.’

Zahira eyes me as though reading something etched on my skin. ‘That’s a shame. Another time, maybe?’

I nod, try to project myself into a future where I am sitting in Zahira’s kitchen, free from uncertainty as to whether it’s the right decision.

‘Will you be okay on your own this weekend?’ Zahira doesn’t wait for a response as she delves into the dove-grey leather handbag slung over her shoulder. She retrieves a pen and an old shop receipt, writes on the back of it. ‘That’s my number. Just in case you need it.’

I take it from her, gratitude swelling in my chest. ‘Thank you.’

‘No worries. Call if you’re at a loose end. And see you Tuesday morning?’

I nod and she turns around, collects Elyas from the bottom of the slide, allows him one last turn before picking him up and strapping him into his pushchair.

‘See you next week. Wave goodbye, Elyas.’ He grins, waves, and the sight of his miniature fingers stirs something in me that clutches my heart in its grip. I force my lips into a smile, wave back, tears smarting my eyes.

Turning in the opposite direction, I begin making my way home, an image affixing itself in my mind: a little boy’s hand, wrapped around my gently pulsing heart, refusing to let go.





LIVVY


BRISTOL

Livvy was aware of her heart rate accelerating.

In front of her, Dominic sat in the armchair, his expression blank, unreadable.

Possibilities tumbled through Livvy’s mind like Alice down the rabbit hole, too quick for her to grab hold of.

Dominic reclined in his chair, stretched his legs out in front of him. ‘I’ve got a new job.’

It was so unexpected that for a moment Livvy struggled to reply. ‘A new job? I didn’t know you were even looking. Your Sheffield contract doesn’t finish for ages.’

Dominic shook his head, grinned as though he were in possession of the world’s most delicious secret. ‘It’s not for when Sheffield finishes. It’s starting in seven weeks.’

‘Seven weeks? But what about Sheffield? You said you couldn’t possibly leave before the build’s finished.’

Dominic waved a hand dismissively in the air. ‘They’ll survive. And Sheffield’s only a temporary contract. This new job’s permanent.’

Frustration blazed in Livvy’s cheeks. ‘So when I needed you to finish the Sheffield contract on time so I could take my promotion, your contract was absolutely unbreakable. But now you’ve got a new job, you’re going to terminate it early?’ The question was sharp in her mouth, like the finely tuned point of an arrowhead.

Dominic leant forward, took hold of Livvy’s hands. ‘Sweetheart, there was no way I could have broken that contract if I was still going to be self-employed. My name would have been mud, and I’d never have got another job. I’m only doing it now because this new role is permanent. You know I’d never deliberately stand in the way of your career. But my hands were tied then.’

For a few seconds, Livvy could find no adequate response. Their conversations over the past fortnight – about the promotion, about her return to work, about Dominic’s Sheffield contract – flitted in her head like the wings of a hummingbird, too fast for her to focus. ‘So if you’re coming back from Sheffield early, we won’t need any help with childcare from my parents or Bea?’

Dominic sat up straight, crossed one leg over the other at the knee, the hem of his trousers riding up over his ankle. ‘Ah, well, that’s where the second part of the confession comes in.’ He smiled, in the way a child who’s just found a secret stash of chocolate might smile. ‘The new job’s in London.’ There was a note of triumph in his voice, as though he’d presented her with a winning lottery ticket.

The implication of Dominic’s news flailed in Livvy’s head. ‘You’re going to commute to London?’

Dominic laughed extravagantly. ‘Of course not. It’s a permanent job. We’ll have to move there.’

The words took a few moments to settle, like the first flakes of snow on hard winter ground. ‘Move to London? All of us?’ Even as she said it, it sounded foolish, implausible.

‘It’ll be great – a new adventure.’

Livvy stood up from the stool, moved to the sofa, folded her arms across her chest. ‘But I don’t want to move to London. My life’s here.’