Love Your Life(107)

“What’s that?” says Maud excitedly. “Is it a bionic arm?”

“You’re not turning me into a bloody cyborg,” Nell warns.

“Oh, go on, have a bionic arm,” says Maud. “Go on, Nell.”

“Yes, go on, Nell,” says Sarika. “Don’t be a spoilsport.” She winks at me, and I feel a bubble of intense happiness. I’ve missed these guys so much.

“So, I take it you’re still with Sam?” I ask her.

“Moving into his place next week,” says Sarika, a smile spreading across her face.

“That’s amazing! And where does he live again?” I can’t resist asking innocently. “It’s pretty near the tube, isn’t it?”

“Fairly near,” says Sarika, avoiding my gaze. “It’s…I mean, I walk pretty quickly. And sometimes I cycle. So. It’s ten minutes max.”

“Ten minutes if you’re on a motorbike,” says Nell sardonically, and Maud explodes with laughter.

“OK, it’s miles away,” says Sarika, suddenly caving in. “It’s bloody miles from the tube. But I don’t care. I just want to be with him!”

She looks so happy, I feel a tiny wistful tweak in my heart. There we are again. It can work out. You just have to have faith.

    “And so now we need to know, Ava,” says Nell. “It’s nearly killed me not asking you, but…the book?”

I let a tiny pause elapse, then say triumphantly, “I finished it!” There’s an explosion of whooping and Maud high-fives me, her face lit up with delight. “And an agent likes it,” I add, still feeling a pinprick of disbelief as I say the words. “She…she wants to represent me.”

Felicity read the rest of my memoir while I was packing to leave Italy. She said she can’t make any promises, but she thinks Harold’s story will make it into bookshops. My beloved Harold, in a real book!

Nell reaches forward to put her mottled hand on mine, her eyes shimmering.

“There,” she says, her voice a little choked. “There. Knew you could do it.” She grins, and I grin back, and I know we’re both remembering the conversation we had in this house, months ago.

And as we’re sitting there, hands clasped, I study Nell’s face for clues. Because I have to know. That sparky, affectionate vibe between Nell and Topher is…It’s real. Surely?

“Nell,” I say, sotto voce. “Tell me something. Are you and Topher…a couple?”

“No,” says Nell at once, withdrawing her hand as though in protest. “Jesus! No.”

“Yes, we are,” says Topher, listening in to our conversation.

“No, we’re not.”

    “Well, I think we are. Sarika, are we a couple?”

“Don’t ask me,” says Sarika, lifting her hands at once.

“Of course you are!” says Maud passionately. “You’re a lovely couple!”

“Maud, you’re insane,” says Nell, but she turns a little pink and shoots a quick look at Topher.

“Thank you for your support, Maud,” says Topher gravely. “It will be remembered.” Then he turns to me, his face crinkled in amusement. “To answer your question, we’re in negotiations, I guess. More wine?”

I shake my head and take a sip, smiling at them both, just absorbing the atmosphere. The feeling of being home again, back with my friends. Everything’s moved on but in a good way.

“How’s Harold?” comes a deep voice behind me, making me start. I swivel to see Matt, sitting a few feet away, cradling a glass of wine. He hasn’t joined in the uproarious conversation or said much at all since I arrived.

I mean, I get it. It’s weird. And a bit painful. But here we are, and we can’t ignore each other.

“He’s really well, thanks,” I say.

“Good.” Matt nods. “Say hello from me. And well done on your book.”

“I finished it,” I say, because I want to hear the words out loud again, in front of him. “I finished something.” I swallow. “So.”

“Yes.” His eyes are warm. “It’s brilliant.”

“And you’ve left Harriet’s House?” I add, trying to make polite conversation. At once Matt’s expression shifts to an unreadable place.

    “Ah,” he says after a pause. “You know about that.”

“Yes. I saw it online. But I don’t know what you’re doing now.”

“Working with Topher.” His face expands into a smile. “Partner, in fact.”

“Oh, Matt!”

“I know. It’s pretty good.”

He looks so thrilled, I can’t help leaning forward to give him an impulsive hug—then instantly withdraw, mortified.

“God. Sorry. I didn’t. God—” My cheeks are burning, and I lift my wineglass for a quick swig. “Anyway, so you’ve been well? You look well—”

“Ava.” Matt cuts me off and waits till I raise my head. “Ava. Could we…I don’t know, have dinner?”

His face is grave but hopeful, and I stare back at him, my head a cascade of thoughts. He had hope too? All this time, he had hope?