I may not know her well, but Adele is sweet. I like her. And it’s nice to have someone texting me to do something rather than the other way around. I should meet her. It’s polite. And if we get on, then I’ll tell David afterwards. I’ll say I was going to tell him we’d met, but he was so snappy that I didn’t. It’s a good solution. I feel better already.
I only have one reservation. Why couldn’t she have suggested lunch and a glass of wine somewhere? The thought of the gym makes me want to hide. I haven’t done any exercise in ages other than run around after Adam, and he’s six now so there’s not even so much of that any more. Adele is so obviously in shape, I can only shame myself next to her. I’m not even sure I’ve got any good gym clothes. None that fit anyway.
I’m about to make up some flimsy excuse and chicken out, but then I pause. I remember my tipsy self-pitying resolve at the weekend to lose the pounds while Adam is away. To get myself a life. I’m texting before I have time to stop myself.
Sure, but I’m very unfit so don’t laugh at me!
I feel quite pleased with myself. Sod David. I’m not doing anything wrong. The answer comes back straight away.
Great! Give me your address and I’ll pick you up. Around midday?
The idea of gorgeous Adele in my flat makes my stomach clench almost more than the thought of the gym.
I can meet you there? I respond.
Don’t be silly! I’ll have the car.
With no way out, I wearily type in my address, and make a mental note to tidy up and hoover tonight. It’s stupid of course. I’m a single mother living in London – Adele must know I don’t live in a mansion – but I know I’ll feel embarrassed. Probably not as embarrassed as I will at the gym, but hey, it’ll all be a test of whether this new friendship has legs, and it will also serve as a final nail in the coffin of this not-thing that is me and David. It’s one day. It’ll be fine, I tell myself. What can really go wrong?
The Hawkins meeting overruns by half an hour, but when Anthony finally comes out of the office, he is calmer. He’s still twitchy, but there’s a definite relaxing about him. As David talks to his family and sees them out, Anthony keeps glancing up at him. Awkward admiration shines from his face even though he’s trying to hide it in front of his parents. I wonder what David said to him to make him open up so quickly. But then I remind myself, bristling a bit, of how I felt in that bar. He makes you feel special. I’ve been there. I get it. Me and Anthony are both suckers for it, by the looks of things.
I pretend to be typing a letter when he comes to the desk, and although he seems calmer too, as if a day of dealing with other people’s problems has smoothed out his own, I keep my expression cool. I don’t know why I’ve let him rile me. And I wish he didn’t still make me feel nervous and tingly. I’m so clumsy when he’s close to me.
‘I’ve booked Anthony Hawkins in for another session on Friday,’ he says. ‘The same time, three forty-five. It’s on the system.’
I nod. ‘Shall I charge for the extra half an hour he’s had today?’
‘No, that’s my fault. I didn’t want to stop him once he started talking.’
What would Dr Sykes make of that? David might want to do some charity work, but this is far from a charity business. I let it go. It’s a nice thing he’s done, and that confuses me slightly. He’s a man of contradictions.
He starts to go back to his office, and then turns and strides back, quickly.
‘Look, Louise, I’m really sorry about being so rude this morning,’ he says. ‘I was in a shitty mood and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.’
He looks so earnest. I try to stay aloof.
‘No, you shouldn’t have,’ I say. ‘But I’m just your secretary so it really doesn’t matter.’
The words come out colder than I intended, and he recoils slightly. I drop my gaze to my work as my heart thrums against my chest. Uncomfortable sweat prickles in my palms.
‘Well, I wanted to apologise.’ The softness has gone from his voice, and then he’s heading away from me. I almost call him back, immediately regretting my surliness, and thinking how stupid it is when we should be friends, and then I remember I’m meeting Adele tomorrow, and I’m trapped in that secret that I haven’t told him yet. Should I tell him now? I stare at his closed door. No, I think. I’ll stick to my plan. If it looks like Adele’s friendship is going to be a regular thing, then I’ll tell him.
I need a coffee. I need something stronger, but a coffee will have to do for now. How has my life got so complicated?
14
ADELE