The Switch - Beth O'Leary Page 0,90

Pilates now, you know.

‘Ha!’

Fitz turns away from his laptop screen and looks at me, eyebrows raised. I smile sheepishly.

‘Nothing interesting,’ I say quickly, swivelling Leena’s laptop a little.

EileenCotton79 says: What else??

Arnold1234 says: Leena taught me how to cook Pad Thai for tea.

EileenCotton79 says: But Leena is a dreadful cook!

Arnold1234 says: Well, I know that now, don’t I?

I laugh again.

EileenCotton79 says: And Betsy told me you’re on the May Day Committee, now, too …

Arnold1234 says: I am. Though your granddaughter is refusing to make the May Day Eileen specials, so I doubt the day will be up to much.

I smile. Every year for May Day, I make toffee apples to sell on a stall outside my front gate. Arnold always buys three, grumbles about the price until I irritably let him have a discount, then gloats about it all evening. Usually with toffee in his teeth.

My fingers hover over the keys.

EileenCotton79 says: Well, how about I promise to make you some toffee apples when I get back?

His answer takes a long time to arrive.

Arnold1234 says: Special discount price?

I laugh, rolling my eyes.

EileenCotton79 says: Free, for looking out for Leena while I’m away, and as a thank-you for the cat videos. They’ve really kept me smiling.

Arnold1234 says: Well, how can I say no to that?

I smile.

Arnold1234 says: And how about the Silver Shoreditchers’ Social Club? How’s that coming along?

I forgot I’d mentioned it to him at all – it’s sweet of him to remember.

EileenCotton79 says: It’s the grand opening this weekend!

Arnold1234 says: I wish I could be there.

And then, as I’m absorbing that rather surprising sentence:

Arnold1234 says: Well, if I was invited.

EileenCotton79 says: Of course you’d be invited, Arnold, don’t be daft.

Arnold1234 says: I’ve never even been invited into your house, so I wouldn’t like to presume …

I frown at Leena’s laptop, pushing my glasses down my nose.

EileenCotton79 says: You don’t mean … ever?

Arnold1234 says: Ever. You have never once invited me around.

EileenCotton79 says: Well. I think you’ll find I did invite you around once.

Arnold1234 says: Aye, well, not since that first day, then.

I bite my lip, then absent-mindedly dab at it to fix my lipstick.

It occurs to me, with the benefit of distance, perhaps … I have not been very charitable when it comes to Arnold.

I wait for a while, unsure what to say. After a moment Arnold sends me a video of a cat riding on a Hoover. I laugh.

Arnold1234 says: Thought I’d lighten the mood.

EileenCotton79 says: Well, Arnold, I’m sorry. When I am home, I would very much like to invite you in for tea and a toffee apple.

Arnold1234 says: I’d like that.

Arnold1234 says: Good luck with the grand opening, Eileen. We all look forward to having you back in Hamleigh again.

And, with that, the green dot disappears.

*

Tonight is my last night with Tod. I don’t leave until Monday, but I want to reserve the weekend for goodbyes with my new friends.

I don’t precisely feel sad, saying goodbye to Tod. We’ve known from day one it was coming, and when the moment would be. This is why I’m so very surprised when he sits up beside me in his plush white bed and says:

‘Eileen, I’m not ready to say goodbye to you.’

I’m so taken aback I have to wait for the right words to come, and it takes so long that Tod’s face falls.

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I say, reaching reflexively for his hand. ‘I’m just surprised. We’ve always said …’

‘I know.’ He presses my hand to his lips. Disordered after an afternoon in bed, his silver-grey hair is fluffy and rumpled; I smooth it back to the way he likes to wear it, swept back like Donald Sutherland’s. ‘It’s been extraordinary, really. There’s no other way to put it. You’re really one of a kind, Eileen Cotton.’

I smile, looking down at the sheets across my lap. ‘We said today was goodbye.’

‘Well, tomorrow can be goodbye. Or the next day. Or some distant day a long way off.’ He smiles roguishly at me, linking his fingers with mine. ‘Go on. Let me have a go at winning you round. Come to our cast party tomorrow. It’s a barbecue on a rooftop in King’s Cross. Good food, good conversation, the occasional West End star …’

‘Skip the party,’ I say impulsively. ‘Come to the launch of the Silver Shoreditchers’ Social Club.’ I press a kiss to his cheek. ‘It would be so lovely to have you there.’

He pauses. ‘Well, I … I suppose I could.’

I beam. This project has been the most