Luke looked at me. ‘There is nothing going on there, and you can talk, Adam said you were cosying up with some man near Oxford Street the other day.’
‘That was work.’
Howard was openly staring at us, a soap opera in the room with him. The others had all made various excuses to leave the room, asking Geoffrey in too-loud voices where the loo was, then whether they could see his basement. I didn’t even care, worried where this was heading. How could Luke possibly doubt my loyalty to him?
Luke sighed, turning to face me. ‘Look, maybe a bit of time apart will give us a break. You need to work out what you want, Lottie. I want you, but this distracted, stressed version of yourself . . . ’
Even Howard had left the room now. We were alone.
‘Fine. Run away,’ I said, waving a hand at him. ‘You might as well go now.’
‘I . . . Fine.’ He threw up his hands.
And then, just like that, he headed to the door. I heard him making his excuses to Geoffrey and the front door opened and closed. He had left. I slumped in my chair.
There was a pause and then urgent whispering in the corridor. I could feel the shame steal over me, imagining the four old men discussing what to do. Finally Grandad appeared in the doorway, glancing back as if reluctant to enter.
‘All OK, Lottie?’
He edged into the room and sat on one end of the sofa, clasping his hands together in his lap.
‘I’m fine,’ I said, undermining the words by hiccoughing a small cry.
There was a silence that stretched on and I was about to make my excuses and leave.
‘Do you know why I was so keen to get you and Luke to do all this?’ Grandad swept a hand around the room, abandoned wine glasses littered on every surface.
I sat on the other end of the sofa. ‘You were missing Grandma,’ I said, my voice wobbling.
He shook his head. ‘No, it wasn’t that. It was a way to make you happy.’
‘Me?’ Frowning, I looked at him in surprise.
He shrugged. ‘I knew why I was sad, I’d lost her, but I had my friends, you, Luke, the knowledge that I had shared my life with the best person. I’ve come to know what’s important. You were unhappy, taking it out on people. Grandma and I had talked about it, we thought perhaps you’d lost your way—’
‘I haven’t los—’
‘—and you used to shrug off the stresses of your job, spend time doing things with people you liked. That seemed to have slowed down, almost stopped . . . ’
Perhaps it was hearing that Grandma had agreed with him, that they had discussed me like this, but for some reason the sadness at hearing it all morphed into anger. Everything these days seemed to be so near the surface. Clenching my hands I spoke through a tight jaw. ‘Well, I’m sorry I’ve become such a bitch. It’s only my job, after all,’ I scoffed, slightly proving his point.
Grandad flinched at the words. ‘Look, Lottie, we understand, we do, but for a while there you have to admit things were better. You were happier when you spent more time enjoying things other than work, having some fun again.’
Looking down I blinked the hot tears away. I didn’t want to admit that he might be right. I was fed up with always feeling like the person in the wrong. Wasn’t I allowed to be stressed? Feel some pressure? ‘Well, thanks for letting me know. I’m sorry I’ve been such a disappointment.’
‘Lottie’ – Grandad appealed to me, palms out – ‘you’re not a disappointment. It’s just no one wants to see you like this.’
I didn’t want to hear any of this. Defensiveness made me spit out the next sentence. ‘I thought you might have a bit of sympathy, being that my oh-so-put-upon-boyfriend is cheating on me.’
‘He’s not cheating on you, Lottie. He’s with her bec—’ Grandad’s lips pursed tightly.
Stung, I twisted my whole body towards him. ‘What?’
Grandad’s eyes widened.
‘Oh my God,’ I whispered. ‘What do you know?’
His face drained of colour, his eyes slithered away. I knew guilt when I saw it. I had come across enough of it in court.
‘I don’t’ – both palms up in an appeal – ‘I . . . ’