random person from uni sitting at our lunch table? And how do I find out her name?
‘So!’ I say as we give our jackets to a girl with about sixteen earrings in her right ear. ‘Amazing! How did you – what—’
‘How many times have you said to me you wish you’d kept in touch with Claire?’ Dan is pink-faced with delight. ‘So you know what I thought? I thought: Let’s make it happen.’
Claire. She’s called Claire. Of course she is. But this is nuts! I’ve never even thought about Claire since university. What on earth—
Oh my God, Claire.
He’s talking about Claire from the art course.
Somehow, I manage to keep smiling as a waitress leads us towards the corner table. There was this girl called Claire whom I met on an art course, years ago. She was really great, with a brilliant sense of humour, and we had a few lunches but then our friendship fizzled out. She’s the one I’ve been talking about.
Not this Claire.
Fuck, fuck …
As we reach the table, my face feels stiff. What am I going to do? ‘We meet at last!’ Dan greets Claire like an old friend. ‘Thank you so much for going along with all my cloak-and-dagger plans …’
‘No problem,’ says Claire in a flat voice. She always had a flat way about her, Claire. ‘Hi, Sylvie.’ She pushes back her chair and stands up, taller than me and make-up free. ‘Long time.’
I glance at Dan. He’s watching the pair of us fondly, as though expecting us to fall into each other’s arms like that YouTube video of the pet lion seeing its owners again.
‘Claire!’ I exclaim in the most emotional voice I can drum up. ‘This is … It’s been too long!’ I hug her bony, resistant body. ‘I just … Here you are! I don’t know what to say!’
‘Well.’ Claire shrugs. ‘Uni was a long time ago.’
‘There should be a bottle of fizz on the table,’ says Dan fretfully. ‘I’ll just go and sort that out … Claire chose the restaurant,’ he adds to me. ‘Isn’t it great?’
‘Fab!’ I say, and take a seat on a really uncomfortable painted wooden chair.
‘So, this was a surprise,’ says Claire impassively.
‘Yes! So, what exactly happened?’ I try to sound casual. ‘How did this all get arranged?’
‘Your husband messaged me on Facebook and said you really wanted to hang out with me.’ Claire eyes me. ‘He said you kept saying what a shame it was that we’d lost touch.’
‘Right.’
I’m still smiling, while my mind darts frenziedly around my options. Do I tell her the truth and have a little laugh and ask her to keep it quiet? No. She’s not that sort. She’d blurt it out to Dan in a heartbeat, I can tell, and he’d be crushed.
I have to go with this.
Somehow.
‘I thought it was a bit strange, to be honest,’ says Claire. ‘Hearing from you.’
‘Well, you know!’ I say, over-brightly. ‘You get to that age and you look back and you think … what did happen to Claire and … the gang?’
‘The gang?’ Claire frowns blankly.
‘You know!’ I say. ‘Everyone! All our mates! Like … er …’
I can’t remember a single name of anyone that Claire might have known. We hung out in different circles. Yes, we were in the same halls – and didn’t we once play in a netball match together, when I was co-opted on to the team? Maybe that’s how Dan got confused. Maybe he saw an old photo online. But that was our only point of connection. We weren’t bloody friends.
‘I’m in touch with Husky,’ allows Claire.
‘Husky!’ I say shrilly. ‘How’s—’
He? She? Who the hell was Husky? I should look more closely at Facebook. But quite honestly, since the twins, I don’t have time to check up on all my 768 ‘friends’ the whole time. I barely keep up with my real ones.
‘I’m still in touch with Sam … Phoebe … Freya … all the art history lot,’ I volunteer. ‘Phoebe’s just got married, actually.’
‘Right,’ says Claire with a dampening lack of interest. ‘I never really got on with them.’
Oh God. This is painful. Where’s that bottle of fizz got to?
‘You and your husband, you’re not selling something, are you?’ says Claire, eyeing me suddenly with suspicion.
‘No!’
‘Or trying to convert me? Are you Mormons?’
‘No.’ I half want to cry and half want to break into hysterical laughter. We had tickets for Tim Wender … ‘Look, here’s Dan with the bottle of fizz. Let’s have a drink.’