Surprise Me(104)

Oh God. Terrible. Why am I so bloody inarticulate? John, with all his worries, manages to sound like some elegiac poet, whereas I flounder around like an idiot. I click off, dial again and start another voicemail.

‘Dan.’ I swallow the lumps down. ‘It’s me. And I just called to say …’ No. I sound like Stevie Wonder. Bad. I click off and try again.

‘Dan, it’s me. I mean, you knew that, right? Because you saw Sylvie pop up on your screen. Which means you’re listening to a message from me. Which I suppose is a good sign …’

What am I going on about? I click off before I can sound any more like a rambling moron and dial a fourth time.

‘Dan. Please ignore all those other messages. Sorry. I don’t know what I was trying to say. What I am trying to say is …’ I pause, trying to untangle my thoughts. ‘Well. I suppose it’s that all I can think about is you. Where you are. What you’re doing. What you’re thinking. Because I have no idea any more. None.’ My voice wobbles and I take a few seconds to calm myself. ‘It’s ironic, I guess, because I used to think I knew you too well. But now …’ A tear suddenly runs down my cheek. ‘Anyway. Above all, Dan … and I don’t know if you’re even still listening … but above all, I wanted to say …’

The door opens and I’m so startled, I drop my phone in shock, thinking, Dan? Dan?

But it’s Karen, wearing sneakers and earbuds and her cycling backpack.

‘Oh, hi,’ she says, looking surprised to see me sitting on the stairs. ‘I forgot my iPad. Shit, Sylvie, your hair.’

‘Yes. My hair.’ I peer at her in confusion. ‘But wait, aren’t you supposed to be with the girls?’

‘Dan’s with them,’ she says casually – then, at my reaction, her expression changes. ‘Oh. Wasn’t I supposed to say? He just turned up and said he’d do the party.’

‘Dan’s here?’ My heart is thudding so hard, I can hardly breathe. ‘He’s here? Where? Where?’

‘Battersea Park,’ says Karen, eyeing me weirdly. ‘Climb On? You know, the climbing place?’

My legs are already moving. I’m scrambling to my feet. I need to get there.





SEVENTEEN


Battersea Park is one of the reasons we like south-west London. It’s an amazing resource – huge and green and full of activities. It’s a fine evening as I reach the gates and people are out in force enjoying themselves. They’re strolling, cycling, rollerblading, riding recumbent bikes and hitting distant tennis balls. Everyone’s relaxed and smiling at each other. But not me. I’m desperate. I’m not smiling. I’m a woman on a mission.

I don’t know what’s propelling me – some marriage-in-crisis superpower maybe, that causes all your muscles to explode in strength? But somehow I’m speeding along, past all the joggers, tottering in my black high heels, panting and red-faced. My lungs are on fire and there’s a blister on my heel, but the more it hurts, the harder I run. I don’t know what I’m going to say when I see him. I’m not even sure I can string a sentence together – all I have is the odd random word landing in my brain as I run. Love. Forever. Please.

‘Argh!’ Suddenly, without warning, I feel a massive jolt, and crash to the ground, scraping my face painfully against the tarmac. ‘Ow! Ow!’ I manage to get to my feet, and see a little boy in a recumbent bike, who has clearly just bashed into me and doesn’t look remotely sorry.

‘Sorry!’ A woman is running over. ‘Josh, I’ve told you to be careful on that bike—’ She sees my face in dismay. ‘Oh dear. You’ve cut your forehead. You should see a medic. Do they have a first-aid place?’

‘It’s fine,’ I say hoarsely, and start running again. Now she mentions it, I can feel blood running down my face. But whatever. I’ll find a plaster later.

Climb On is a massive adventure playground for children, full of ropes, dangling ladders and dangerous, hideous, swaying bridges. As it comes into view, the very sight of it makes my stomach turn. Why on earth would you have a party here? What’s wrong with safe activities on the ground?

As I get near I can see Dan. He’s standing on a bridge, at the top of a tower, with a couple of other dads, all wearing safety helmets. But while the dads are joking about something, Dan seems oblivious to the party. He’s staring ahead, his face shadowed, his brow taut.

‘Dan!’ I yell, but the place is full of clamouring children and he doesn’t turn. ‘Dan! Dan!’ I scream so loud that my throat catches and still he doesn’t hear me. I have no choice. Dodging past the entrance barrier, and ignoring the cry of the attendant, I run at the structure, kick off my heels and start climbing up a monstrous set of rope steps that will lead me to the platform that Dan is on. I’m not even thinking about what I’m doing. I’m just getting to Dan in the only way possible.

And it’s only when I’m about ten feet off the ground that I realize what I’m doing. Oh God. No. I can’t … no.

My fingers freeze around the ropes. I start to breathe more quickly. I look down at the ground and think I might vomit. Dan is another twenty feet up. I need to keep climbing. But I can’t. But I have to.

‘Hey!’ An irate voice is calling me from the ground. ‘Who are you? Are you with the party? You need a helmet!’