The Forgetting(47)

A knot of disquiet coiled in Livvy’s stomach. ‘What do you mean? You can’t spring something like this on me and then be annoyed because I don’t immediately jump for joy. I do have my own career to think about. That’s not unreasonable of me.’

There was a brief hiatus, like the seconds before a magician pulls a rabbit from a hat.

‘There’s something else I haven’t told you. I had the final interview last Friday, but I honestly didn’t expect to be offered the job . . .’

Last Friday. Livvy thought of the parking ticket for Waterloo station in Dominic’s jacket pocket, felt it slot into place like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle.

‘ . . . and then they phoned on Thursday afternoon and offered it to me.’ He held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘I know, I should have told you straight away, but I really wanted to talk about it in person.’ He spoke quickly, his voice animated, so different from the anger and frustration just a few minutes before. ‘Anyway, my first thought was you, and how a move to London might affect your career.’ He paused, glanced down to where Leo was rattling a wooden shape sorter. ‘So I thought I’d test the water for you. I emailed your CV to a couple of the big think tanks, just to enquire about possible opportunities.’

‘You did what?’ Incredulity flooded Livvy’s cheeks. ‘You sent emails, pretending to be me? From my account?’

Dominic offered a guilty half-smile. ‘I have been telling you for months not to have the same password for everything.’ He pulled a face, like a little boy who’d been discovered with his hand in the cookie jar. ‘But listen – both of them got back to me straight away, suggesting you go in for a meeting as soon as we’re settled in London. Honestly, sweetheart, they both sounded really keen. This could be an incredible opportunity for you.’

Livvy tried to absorb what Dominic was telling her, but his words were like scuttling ants, refusing to stay still.

‘Please don’t be angry. I do appreciate it would be a big move for you, and I thought if you knew there were fantastic career opportunities for you too, it might make the decision easier.’

He smiled at her with such intense focus it reminded her of their early dates, when he would listen earnestly to everything she had to say.

‘Which think tanks did you contact?’

Dominic told her and Livvy couldn’t contain her surprise. ‘But they’re two of the most influential think tanks in the country. And they really sounded interested?’

Dominic grinned. ‘I’ll show you their replies. I hid them in a folder in Gmail so you wouldn’t see them. But, yes – one of them said they were looking to expand the team and thought they might have a role you’d be interested in within the next few months.’ He ran his fingers gently along the ridge of Livvy’s spine. ‘I really wouldn’t be suggesting this move if I didn’t think it would be good for us both.’

Livvy tried to cohere her thoughts. ‘It’s just a lot to get my head around.’

‘I know. But your promotion . . . there’s always the worry when you’re promoted internally that you’re never really viewed properly in the new role. There’s an argument that a fresh start at this point in your career would actually be better for you.’

Livvy considered what Dominic was saying, knew in part that he was right.

‘So will you think about it? Properly, I mean?’

Livvy looked down at Leo, prised his toy rabbit gently from his mouth. Turning back to Dominic, she found herself nodding. ‘Let’s talk about it over the weekend.’

Dominic smiled, wide and grateful. ‘I don’t want to put any pressure on you, but this really is my dream job. And I’m convinced there’ll be great opportunities for you too.’

From Dominic’s back pocket came the familiar trill of his mobile phone. He pulled it out, stared at the screen, frowned. Standing up from the bed, he strode towards the door.

‘What is it?’

‘Work. I’d better take it. Won’t be long.’

She listened as Dominic ran down the stairs, heard him take the second flight into the basement kitchen.

Sitting on the bed with Leo, the events of the past half-hour recapitulated in Livvy’s head. She thought about London – about leaving her family, moving to another city, working for a different organisation – and was unable to decipher whether the feeling flitting in her chest was that of anxiety or excitement.





ANNA


LONDON

The late-afternoon sky is a dense pewter, as though a thick blanket has been wrapped around the earth, blocking out the sun.

Turning away from the window, I look at the stacked boxes in front of me. Yesterday afternoon I began opening some but found nothing of interest: old duvet covers, a tattered leather holdall, some ornaments which didn’t seem to match our decor.

Opening the blades of a pair of scissors, I slice along the brown packing tape of a sealed box. Inside is some spare bedding, vacuum packed in transparent bags, wrinkled and stiff. I wonder if sometimes we have people to stay overnight, whether we make up a bed for them on the sofa downstairs. I try to imagine who those guests might be, but no faces or names spring to mind. Closing the lid, I write its contents on the top in thick black marker pen, move the box to one side.

The next box holds a large desk fan and I glance out of the window, the sky ashen and unmoving, try to picture a day hot enough to need it. The third box contains a pair of frosted glass lamps minus their bulbs and an ornate table candelabra in distressed silver. I put them to one side: the sitting room needs extra light and the candelabra would look nice on the kitchen table.