‘So she wrote back,’ Daniel heard a man’s voice say, ‘and it was this cocky and funny and kind of provocative answer, and they’ve gone back and forth a bit, and now everyone is waiting to see if they go out. I don’t know –’ he paused to take a sip of his wine ‘– I think it’s one of those things where everyone is like, “She wrote back! They have to get married now!” Or whatever. Because it’s like a movie or something, you know?’
Daniel cocked his head and tried to listen to what the woman said in response. He was so sure they were talking about him, and about Nadia. About her note to him. Was that egotistical of him? But surely there weren’t a string of people writing letters to each other in the newspaper. Maybe he was imagining things because he was excited by the day. That must be it.
‘What can I get for you, mate?’ the barman asked, and Daniel held up one hand and two fingers to signal seven pints, and said, ‘Seven of the Abbot’s, please, mate.’
Daniel craned his neck to continue to listen to the couple. ‘Well, if it were me,’ the woman was saying, ‘I’d want a big romantic gesture like that. Like, if you meet somebody that way …’ And then Daniel couldn’t hear what she said after that. Well, he thought. Even if they’re not talking about us, that’s still worth remembering. Big romantic gesture. That’s like Romeo said. Got it. A shudder went down his spine. He’d thought of him and Nadia as an us.
He delivered the booze to the table and Jeremy was in the middle of a story about his new kid, his second, and how his penis was like a tiny sprinkle system and they’d had to buy a Penis teepee.
‘I’m not kidding,’ he was saying. ‘It’s a tiny teepee that you put over the kid’s dick, so when he pisses himself as you change him it doesn’t go all over you!’ It was the kind of Dad Talk Daniel couldn’t contribute to, not being one himself, but it was nice to be a part of. He was just happy. Happy to be here and be alive and have the whole promise of a future in front of him. Nadia’s face drifted into his mind and the lads continued to play ‘dad one-upmanship’ with their various anecdotes.
And then he chastised himself: Fucking hell mate, try having a date first.
He finished off his pint and tuned back in to the rest of the group, telling himself that was enough fantasizing for now. Somebody asked if they should hop in a cab and go down to Soho Farmhouse for a nightcap because Terrence and Dean had membership so could get everybody in, but the idea was sunk by the rest of the group who decided to head back to the house.
‘Okay, fine,’ Terrence said. ‘But I swear to god, she’ll kill me if you smoke in the house so just … well, fucking don’t, okay?’
Rowdily, they stumbled out of the pub and into the last scraps of country summer light. Jonny and Dean both pulled packets of cigarettes from their jean pockets and promptly sparked up.
17
Nadia
‘I’m just saying,’ said Nadia, ‘that you seem a bit distant, is all. Like, whatever it is, you can tell me.’
They were sat at breakfast in the courtyard of the club, handsome waiters buzzing around them and the promise of poached eggs with hollandaise sauce on the way.
‘I. Am. Not. Hiding. Anything,’ she said, enunciating every syllable. ‘Don’t crowd me, okay? If I want to talk, I’ll talk!’
She said it shiftily – not mad, or angry – she was like a teenager who didn’t have the words for her feelings yet. But the feelings were most definitely there.
Nadia couldn’t figure it out. She’d waited all weekend to say something, thinking every time she caught Emma’s mind wandering off halfway through the conversation, or noting how she obsessively checked her phone, that surely it would be the last time. Nadia gave Emma imaginary chance after imaginary chance, but she kept using them up. Nadia had gone from being slightly irked to totally outraged to now genuinely concerned about Emma’s behaviour. It was like she’d had bad news she didn’t want to share, or was waiting for bad news to come. Nadia’s own funk had lifted enough to be aware of the company she was in, and the