The Switch(87)

Then Ethan’s hand brushes Ceci’s arm, and I know I’m on to something. He ducks his head to speak to her. Then, quick as a flash, blink and you miss it … he kisses her on the lips.

For a moment I hesitate. I baulk. But then I remind myself of what I said when I first suspected Ethan was running around on Leena: Carla would never have baulked, and I shouldn’t, either. So I hitch my handbag up my arm and me and my wheeled suitcase set off at a march.

Ethan and Ceci don’t even look up as I approach. I tap Ethan on the shoulder. He spins.

‘Eileen! Hi,’ he says, taking a step back. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Ceci, I presume?’ I say to the woman.

She just raises her eyebrows. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Off you trot, lass.’ I gesture her towards the building. ‘My quarrel isn’t with you. Though you ought to know that there’s a special place in hell for women who set their sights on somebody else’s man.’

‘Now, hang on, Eileen,’ Ethan says.

‘I saw you kiss her.’

‘What on earth has that got to do with …’ Ceci begins.

‘Are you still here?’ I ask her.

Ceci looks at me with distaste. ‘Ethan?’ she says.

‘I’ll see you in the meeting,’ he says. ‘Stall them, would you?’

‘Let’s just go, Ethan. Who even is this woman?’

‘I’m Leena’s grandmother,’ I say.

Her eyes widen.

‘Oh.’

‘Yes. Oh.’

‘I’ll … I’ll see you inside,’ she says to Ethan, and scuttles away on her high heels. She reminds me of a praying mantis. I look away. She doesn’t deserve thinking about.

‘So,’ I say to Ethan. I wait.

He rubs his forehead. ‘I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick, Eileen.’

‘I’m no fool, Ethan. Don’t try to take me for one.’

‘Look. You don’t understand. In the nicest possible way, Eileen, modern relationships, they’re not like …’

‘No. Don’t try that.’

He runs his fingers through his hair. ‘OK. All right. I didn’t … I didn’t mean for things to happen with Ceci. The last thing I want to do is hurt Leena. But she’s been so different lately. I don’t know what’s got into her. It doesn’t even feel like I’m in a relationship with Leena, it’s like this whole other person, and she wants to talk about the – the transport links in rural northern England, and making stew, and planning village parties. It’s … It’s just …’ He reaches for my arm suddenly. ‘Please. Don’t tell her.’

‘Ah, yes. I suspected we were going to get to that soon.’ I remove my arm from his grasp with deliberation.

‘Please. It’ll mess everything up. I’ll end it with Ceci, I’ll do it right now after our meeting.’ He’s beginning to fray; his eyes are desperate.

‘I won’t tell Leena.’

He sags with relief.

‘For two days. I’ll give you that much. Though God knows you don’t deserve it.’

I leave him there, then, because I can’t hold my temper much longer and I can’t stand the sight of him, withering, sorry for himself, sweating in his expensive shirt. A succession of kind strangers help me with my bags until I’m settled on the train in King’s Cross, pulling out of the station into the open air, the wide sky, with the cranes pivoting steadily back and forth, building an even bigger London.

I’ll miss this city. But it’s not my home. As the train speeds its way up north I wonder if this is how it feels to be a homing pigeon, tugged onwards, as though someone’s pulling on the threads that hold you to the place where you belong.





31


Leena


I wake up the morning after May Day in the customary manner (cat in face) but, instead of jumping out of bed, I go back to sleep for at least another three hours. On second wake-up, I discover Ant/Dec has taken up residence on my lower ribs, and is purr-snoring so gleefully I feel bad moving him. Also, moving sounds rubbish. I’m bloody knackered. And more than a little hungover, too.

Did my mum walk me home last night? I vaguely remember talking in great detail about my business plan with Bee, and then telling her I didn’t want to leave Yorkshire, and her saying, Why not set up your business up here? Why London? What’s so bloody brilliant about London anyway? And then I’d got into this big rant about the Central line, and …

My phone is ringing. It’s Ethan. I rub my eyes and fumble for the phone on the side table.

‘Hey.’

‘Hey, Leena,’ he says. He sounds tight, worried. ‘How are you?’

‘Bit hungover. You?’

‘Listen, angel, I’m really sorry, but I need to talk to you about something. It might be a bit upsetting.’

I pull myself upright against the pillows. ‘OK …’

‘I bumped into your grandma this morning. I was with Ceci, from work – we were on our way to a client meeting. Your grandma … I’m sorry, Leena. She went crazy. Yelling at Ceci and me, saying these awful things – saying I was cheating on you, it was mad, Leena. I don’t know what got into her.’