The Two Lives of Lydia Bird(74)

Now that I can relate to.

‘And then as the pages filled up, I started to enjoy the writing process itself, to remember how it felt to create worlds different to mine, to spend time thinking about a story that isn’t my own.’

He has no idea how much of a chord his words strike. Except I don’t need to write my different world; I live it.

‘So, what, are you the hero of this story?’

It’s a low blow, and I dislike myself for implying Jonah was anything but a hero to Freddie in real life.

Jonah’s perched forward on the edge of his seat. ‘It’s not that kind of thing,’ he says. ‘Like I said, it’s not me and Freddie, not specifically. But he inspired it, so I wanted you to hear about it from me.’

‘Thanks for that,’ I say, feeling like a cow.

‘Do you mind?’ he asks.

‘Did you think I would?’ I don’t meet his question with a question to be confrontational. I’m just trying to work out if my selfish feelings are in any way justified.

‘I don’t honestly know,’ he says, and I believe him. ‘I just didn’t want you to think I’ve found a silver lining in all this, I guess.’

‘I don’t think that,’ I say, and I sigh, because I’ve just put my finger on my real feelings for what they are and I’m not proud of myself. ‘I’m jealous of you, if anything.’

He looks at me, incredulous. ‘Jealous?’

It’s my turn to struggle for the right words. ‘I just … it’s heavy in me too, you know? You’re going to be somewhere else, meet new people, be somewhere where the memories aren’t everywhere you look.’

He nods and his eyes tell me that he knows better than most.

‘You’ll probably go to LA for the summer and decide you love it so much you’ll never come home again.’

Jonah gets up and sits next to me. ‘I’ll come home again, Lydia. I promise.’

‘You don’t know that. They might make you an offer you can’t refuse.’

He looks doubtful. ‘It’s early days. I could just as easily have had these meetings from here, Skype or something,’ he says. ‘I’m going there as much to get away from here as to go there, if that makes any sense.’

‘Kind of like running away,’ I say dully.

‘I don’t like to think of myself as someone who runs away,’ he says. ‘But, yeah, maybe a bit.’

We sit in silence for a minute and I briefly entertain the idea of doing something similar, of catching a plane to the other side of the world for a while to see if life feels lighter there.

‘So, what? You’re loosely planning to go to LA and hope things go well?’

‘It feels like time for a change,’ he shrugs. ‘LA is as good a place as any.’

Dee was partially right then; Jonah does need to get away, but hopefully not for ever.

‘Good for you, Jonah,’ I say softly, because I understand that in a roundabout way he’s come here today to ask for my blessing. ‘I hope it’s the start of something good for you.’

‘That means a lot to me,’ he says, sincere, grabbing my hand. ‘You’ll always mean a lot to me, Lyds. I don’t want us to ever lose our friendship.’

Distant echoes of the hen night, my two worlds brushing close to each other. Here, thankfully, we are as we’ve always been. Old friends.

‘Me neither,’ I say, squeezing his fingers.

He glances at the chair where Freddie used to sit, and then around my living room. ‘This place is starting to feel more like yours these days.’

‘You think?’ I say, surprised by the idea. I haven’t changed much: a new cushion here, a lamp there, a bohemian mirror I spotted on the way home from work the other day. I sort of understand what Jonah means though. It’s inevitable, I suppose, a necessary evolution as the shape of my life changes.

We fall quiet again, and then I tell him something I hadn’t planned to.

‘I’ve been seeing someone.’

Jonah looks at me as if I’ve just grown a second head. ‘Seeing someone?’

‘We met up a couple of times.’

He shakes his head as if it’s the most outlandish thought. ‘I never imagined you dating someone else.’

His judgement stings. ‘You’re not the only one entitled to a life after him, you know.’

He drops his arm over my shoulders and pulls me in against his side. ‘I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just … you and someone else. It feels weird.’

He has no idea. ‘Imagine how it feels to me.’

We sit there in silence for a while, his arm a comfortable weight, our heads tipped back against the sofa.

‘Big-shot movie man.’

He laughs softly when I shoulder bump him. It’s a familiarity I’ve missed more than I realized.

‘Shall we get pizza?’ he asks.

I look at the coffee table. It’s held countless pizzas over the years, Freddie and Jonah’s standard football dinner.

I guess it could stand one more.

I wait on the step and wave him off as he climbs back into the Saab just after nine. Jonah Jones in LA. Who knew? They’ll eat him alive. Or maybe they won’t. Perhaps he’ll switch pizza for egg-white omelettes and industrial strength coffee for kale shots. As I close the door, I console myself with two things. One, he didn’t declare himself in love with me, and two, at least it’s not bloody Wales.