He imagined some sinewy cycling fanatic planning endless bike rides on a fitness app.
She gave a bark of laughter. ‘No. No, there isn’t. I don’t want somebody else, Jackson. I’m trying to figure out who I am, after everything you put me through. Build a new life.’
Without him in it. That much was clear.
He nodded. ‘OK …’
He walked out of the kitchen and went to find Finn, who was playing on his Wii in the lounge.
‘See you soon, mate.’ He hugged his son to him. As long as he had Finn, that was all that mattered. If Mia couldn’t find it in her heart to forgive him for his transgressions, that was fair enough. But he was still Finn’s dad. She couldn’t take that away from him.
He walked back to the kitchen to say a final goodbye. Mia looked up, startled and guilty. She was eating a piece of their cold pizza as if it was the last slice on earth.
‘Bye,’ said Jackson, resisting the urge to say something cutting. Because he didn’t feel bitter. He just felt sad. But he thought perhaps the pizza showed a chink.
Twenty
Bea took Emilia out for breakfast to tell her what she and Bill had decided.
Emilia was feeling terrible. She hadn’t felt right since her wild swim with Marlowe. She was fighting off a cold, but losing. She ordered eggy sourdough with roasted vine ripened tomatoes to give her some strength. Bea was feeding Maud discs of banana.
Emilia scooped the froth off her cappuccino. The café roasted its own coffee, and she always swore never to drink instant again when she came in here.
‘There’s something I need to tell you.’ Bea finished her granola. ‘I didn’t want to say until it was definite, but I’m going back to work. In London. I got the official offer through this morning.’
‘Oh.’ Emilia tried to look happy for her. ‘That’s a bit of a life change.’
‘Bill’s going to work from home and have Maud when I’m in London. We both realised we’d got our lives the wrong way round.’
‘But I need you!’ Emilia was joking, but she realised she had become dependent on Bea’s vision and advice. She really valued their friendship.
‘I know. But I can still help you with the shop. It was getting involved with you that made me realise how much I miss work.’
‘If I stay open.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It all seems like a bit too much effort at the moment.’
Bea punched her arm. ‘Shut up! I won’t listen to that negativity. You’ve got plans, Emilia!’
Emilia couldn’t be bothered to argue. Her throat was on fire and her head throbbed. So she just smiled. She was happy for her friend. Of course she was.
By Sunday, she felt like the walking dead. Emilia wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, but she was scheduled to spend the day rehearsing with the quartet. The wedding was getting closer and closer. She stayed under the duvet as long as she could get away with, then scrambled into her clothes without having a shower and rushed to the village hall.
She knew she looked rough in her jogging bottoms and hoodie. To add to her malaise, Delphine was looking particularly stunning in an electric blue silk blouse with a pussycat bow which she wore with a tiny leather miniskirt.
Marlowe went to give her a hug, but she dodged out of his way.
‘Don’t come anywhere near me. I’m full of germs.’ She thrust his hand-washed cashmere sweater back at him.
Usually, playing the cello took Emilia out of herself. Music soothed her soul, and playing music soothed it even more. They were playing ‘Salut d’Amour’ by Elgar, one of the tunes they would play for the congregation while waiting for the ceremony to start. It reminded Emilia of the Elgar piece the quartet had played at her father’s memorial service: ‘Chanson de Nuit’.
She couldn’t play for toffee. Her fingers were all over the place, her bow kept slipping and she lost her place.
Marlowe stopped them all and looked at her.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked. ‘You did know we were doing this?’
His tone was even, but she sensed he was hiding his annoyance. The unspoken accusation was that she hadn’t practised. She had. But she was a human being. Not a bloody robot.
She put down her bow on her music stand.
‘I’m sorry. I’ve had a lot on. And I don’t feel well …’
Everyone was looking at her. Only Petra looked sympathetic. Delphine looked inscrutable.
Marlowe just looked exasperated.
‘If you’re feeling that bad you should have cancelled. We’re just wasting time.’
Emilia got up and headed for the door. Marlowe followed her outside.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I always get stressed before events. I just want us to get it right and I know you can do it. You were amazing when you came to my house. You’d cracked it. What’s going on?’
‘It’s my father’s birthday today.’ Emilia looked down at the ground.
‘Oh, you poor baby.’ Marlowe softened immediately. ‘Oh shit – I’m a bastard. I’m sorry. Come here.’