The Two Lives of Lydia Bird - Josie Silver Page 0,36
sunbed tan, looks up and winks, a phone wedged against his ear. My face must have given me away, because he follows the direction of my gaze and jumps to his feet, hanging up on whoever he was on hold for.
‘Lydia,’ he smiles, all veneers, striding across the small room to pull me into a hug. It’s not lost on me that both of my male colleagues seem more emotionally equipped to deal with my arrival than my female counterparts. Dawn disappeared pretty much on sight, and at the back of the room Julia lifted a perfectly manicured hand without rising from her chair. Granted, she seems to be on a conference call, but even so she doesn’t exactly exude warmth. That’s not really fair. Julia and I have worked together for some years now and she can’t help coming over as a cold fish, even though I know for a fact she’s butter-soft. She’d just rather no one knew and uses her oh-so-glamorous braided hair and long blood-red nails to terrify people into thinking she’s a tough taskmaster. She’s easily the eldest of our cohort, an indeterminate age somewhere between fifty-five and sixty; I suspect she’ll remain in that bracket until someone challenges it. Which no one will.
‘Sorry about your desk,’ Ryan says, leading me by the hand towards it. ‘Let’s sort it out.’
His idea of sorting it out involves sweeping everything up into his arms and dumping the lot on top of the nearest filing cabinet, but I appreciate the gesture all the same. He casts his eye around for a chair, and coming up with nothing, he wheels his own across and then performs a tiny bow to indicate I should take his seat.
‘Your throne, m’lady.’
I don’t argue. I can’t, because the simple gesture of kindness has caught in my throat. He notices and, to his credit, he doesn’t panic. He just pats me on the shoulder, finds me a tissue and nods sagely.
‘I know, Lyds,’ he says. ‘I’m devastating. I have this effect on lots of women.’
I gulp-laugh, glad of his humour, and catch Dawn’s relieved eye as she drifts towards me with the promised cup of tea. She’s no doubt pleased that I’m smiling, and actually, so am I. I can feel myself slowly settling, my fingers running over the familiar bumps and dinks in my battered old walnut desk. I have a place to be.
‘No sugar, too much milk,’ Dawn says, as she always does. It’s subtle, but I hear it. It’s I remember, it’s You’re amongst friends here, it’s We’ve got you.
Julia appears too and places a small vase of pink and purple sweet peas on my desk.
‘Perfume was getting up my nose,’ she sniffs, her perfectly made-up eyes assessing me, no doubt taking in the fact I’ve lost some weight and making a mental note to bring cake tomorrow and lie about buying it from the reduced counter.
I look at them, one face to the next, and swallow hard.
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘It’s good to be back.’
‘We weren’t sure whether to, you know, to say anything, about …’ Ryan says, his lovely dark eyes full of consternation. Again, I admire him for being the unelected spokesman for a group of people twice his age, even if he did stumble at the last hurdle.
‘Freddie,’ I say, forcing the word out clear and untearful, saying it so Ryan doesn’t have to. ‘You can say his name, it’s okay.’
They all nod, hovering, waiting for more.
‘I’m grateful for the chair and the tea and the flowers,’ I say. ‘But more than anything else, I’m glad of the company. I couldn’t spend any more days on my own at home, I’m boring myself stupid.’
‘Say if you need anything,’ Dawn says, too fast, trying to stop her bottom lip from wobbling. She feels for a tissue in the pocket of her oversized cardigan. All her clothes swamp her; she’s been on a wedding diet for months and not had the spare money to replace her wardrobe. She’s let her robin’s-wing-brown hair grow too; there’s an air of the waif about her today.
Julia shoots her a withering look, sliding her horn-rimmed glasses down her nose, letting them hang on the rose-gold chain around her neck. ‘I’ve got a list of things you can make a start on, when you’re ready.’
Ryan hands Dawn a tissue, and she dabs her eyes as she plucks my lunchbox from my bag. ‘I’ll put this in the fridge for you.’