The Two Lives of Lydia Bird(85)

I scrabble to answer before he hangs up.

‘Hey,’ I say, tucking my hair behind my ears as I sit up straighter in the chair. ‘Can you hear me?’

‘Hey yourself,’ he says. The smile behind his voice makes me smile too.

‘How’s LA?’ I say. ‘Have you made your fortune and married Jennifer Lawrence?’

‘Yes, that’s exactly what I’ve done,’ he laughs. ‘How about you?’

I hesitate. ‘Same old same old.’

I don’t know why I don’t tell him I’m in Croatia. Probably because I just can’t face another ‘what the hell are you doing there’ conversation.

‘What time is it in LA?’

‘Lunch,’ he says. ‘I’m eating the world’s biggest bowl of pasta and I thought of you.’

‘Stodgy and pale?’ I say. My skin looks practically blue here amongst the sun-kissed crowds.

He laughs. ‘The waitress’s name is Lydia.’

‘Oh.’ My limited knowledge of LA conjures up a Cameron Diaz-style roller-skating queen with Jonah’s pasta held aloft on a tray as she pirouettes between tables.

‘So seriously, is it going well?’

He pauses. ‘You know what, it really is,’ he says, half laughing, incredulous. ‘Scarily so.’

‘That’s good though, right?’

‘No, yeah, it is.’ He sounds unsure. ‘Things have just moved more quickly than I’d let myself hope they could.’

‘Did you decide which film company you like best?’

‘I did,’ he says. ‘The one who asked if I could stay over here for a while and develop the script. Until Christmas, even. Maybe.’

He says it super casual, as if it’s normal to be planning to spend an extra half a year on the other side of the world.

‘But what about work and everything?’

‘I think it’ll be okay,’ he says. ‘I’ve spoken to the head and he’s looking into a sabbatical for me.’

‘That’s – that’s really great,’ I say, and I hope he doesn’t catch the note of despondency I can’t quite keep from my voice.

‘So, I thought that – if you can get the time off work – you might fancy coming out here for a week or two? See the sights? We could walk the Hollywood Stars and you can stalk Ryan Reynolds or someone.’

I’m taken aback, really surprised, and relieved that our friendship is back in a place where this feels like a good idea to him.

‘I’m in Croatia,’ I say.

He goes quiet for a few moments. ‘Croatia?’

‘It was kind of a last-minute thing.’

‘On your own? Or …’

I hear the question he doesn’t ask me.

‘On my own, yeah.’

‘Wow.’

I don’t know if I’m offended. ‘Is it that shocking?’

‘No, no, it’s not that,’ he says. ‘You just caught me by surprise.’

‘Elle had the baby.’

‘She did? When?’

‘Yesterday morning.’

‘Oh, Lyds, you missed it! Are you going home soon?’

I close my eyes. ‘I didn’t miss it. I was there, I delivered the baby myself.’

He laughs and I realize he doesn’t believe me.

‘I’m serious, Jonah, I delivered my niece. She’s fine, thanks for asking.’

‘God, okay. Right, yes, I’m sorry, I thought you were kidding around,’ he says, struggling to get the right words out. ‘So, you delivered Elle’s baby yesterday and today you’re in Croatia on a spur-of-the-moment holiday?’

He relays all of this back, fact-checking, as if I might realize I got some of it wrong.

‘Yep.’

He waits for me to explain further, but I don’t.

‘So that’s cool,’ he says. ‘Tell them congrats from me.’

‘I will,’ I say, and again he falls silent.

‘It’s almost ten o’clock at night here,’ I say, settling back in my balcony chair. ‘There’s so many stars, Jonah, it’s a whole new level of brightness and beauty.’

‘I wish I could see it,’ he says, quiet against my ear.

‘I wish that too,’ I whisper, suddenly feeling a long way from home.

‘Go home soon,’ Jonah tells me. ‘Don’t spend too much time on your own out there.’

‘I won’t,’ I say. ‘You should get back to your pasta mountain.’

‘True,’ he says.

‘Say hi to Ryan Reynolds from me if you run into him.’

‘Will do.’ I hear someone speak to him in the background, and he asks for the bill, distracted.

‘Listen, I’ll let you get back to your day,’ I say.

‘Yeah, I should probably go,’ he says, then after a beat he adds, ‘Call me if you get lonely, okay?’

‘Thanks. I’ll remember.’

‘Get some sleep, stargazer.’ His voice is so clear he could be sitting beside me on this moonlit balcony.

‘Night, Jonah Jones,’ I say, and I click to end the call before either of us can say anything else. I didn’t tell him about the job offer.