Читать книгу I Remember You - Harriet Evans - Страница 17

One Friday afternoon, just before the first May bank holiday, Tess sat on the sofa, putting on her shoes and humming loudly so she couldn’t hear anything that might be going on in the bedroom upstairs. She had been teaching all morning and was on her way out to get some food for their picnic. She, Adam and Francesca were going to the beach the next day and the fridge at Easter Cottage had never been quite so denuded. Two sex-mad grown-ups ate a lot, Tess had discovered. It was like living with termites and a team of Sumo wrestlers.

The noises that she had been pretending not to hear from upstairs grew unavoidably louder, a crescendo, and Tess banged her feet on the floor and started singing as she searched for her keys. Suddenly, almost abruptly, there was silence, and after a minute she heard footsteps on the narrow stairs, a slight stumble and then a muffled curse—as the owner of the feet narrowly avoided the stair with a missing chunk, especially hazardous without shoes.

‘Hey there, you!’ Adam called to her, still cheerful. ‘Coffee?’ Tess looked up at him, in disbelief, as he went into the kitchen. ‘Is that Francesca’s dressing gown?’ she said, watching Adam pull the Chinese silk carefully around him as he put the kettle on.

‘Why yes, and I think it’s just lovely,’ said Adam. He scratched his thick hair thoughtfully. ‘She’s given it to me.’

‘So I can hear,’ said Tess, unable to resist.

‘Ha ha,’ said Adam. ‘Very funny.’

‘It’s not that funny,’ said Tess, wishing she didn’t sound so grumpy. ‘Sitting down here listening to you two going at it hammer and tongs.’

‘Tess!’ Adam said mildly. ‘Mind your own business.’

‘My own business?’ Tess stood up and laughed shortly, swinging her bag over her shoulder. ‘Bloody hard to, when all I can hear is you two having sex when I’m trying to read in bed. I’ve had to buy earplugs!’

‘No, you haven’t,’ Adam said, but he looked a little fazed. ‘We’re having a great time. I really like her, what’s your problem?’

There was something ridiculous about him, standing holding the kettle, with the thin silk clinging to his legs, his tall, broad frame, as his hair stuck up comically on his head. A wave of fury washed over her, that he thought it was OK. That they both did.

‘My problem?’ Tess yelled. She shook her head wildly. ‘My problem is I moved back here for some peace and quiet, and there’s no fucking coffee in the jar before you look, because you two bloody drank it all, and there’s no food in the fucking fridge because you’ve eaten it all, and when I’m trying to watch bloody Antiques Roadshow all I can here is you two, bellowing “Yes! Yes!” at each other, like you’re watching a football match!’

Adam looked at her, as she took a deep breath and was silent, and he started laughing.

‘Or—anything,’ Tess said weakly, glad the tension was broken. She was being ridiculous. ‘You know. T4 and stuff. The Wire. Anyway, Antiques Roadshow is really good, I’ll have you know.’

‘Clearly,’ Adam said, shaking his head, still laughing.

‘Last week, they had a pensioner on it.’

‘No. Amazing.’

‘And she had a teapot Josiah Wedgwood designed himself. Himself.’ Tess nodded significantly. ‘It was worth over a thousand pounds. And that lady can now buy a new walk-in bath, for her husband Roger.’

‘To think you once played strip poker with the under-eighteens Hampshire cricket team,’ Adam said ruminatively.

‘Sshh.’ She drew a circle around her with her finger. ‘Remember. It’s in our—’

‘—circle of trust,’ he finished. ‘Sorry, I forgot about our circle of trust.’

They were both silent for a moment, and then Adam said, again, ‘Antiques Roadshow.’ Tess watched him, arms folded. Adam had a big, deep laugh, that seemed to take him over completely.

‘Hey,’ he said, eventually. ‘I’m really sorry, Tess. I should have thought about you more in this. It’s just—she’s great.’ He smiled. ‘I really like her.’

‘I know you do,’ she said, pleased for him. ‘Look, I’m just popping out to get some food and stuff—’

‘I’ll come with you,’ said Adam. ‘Seriously,’ he added, as she looked at him in disbelief. ‘Francesca’s fast asleep and I need a new battery for the bike lamp, too. Give me five minutes. I’ll just jump in the shower.’

‘Er…OK,’ said Tess. Adam grinned.

‘Look pleased!’ he said. ‘I’ll give you street cred, Granny.’

As they walked along the high street, Tess carried her wicker basket over her arm. Adam shook his head. ‘I worry about you. You’re turning into someone from Cranford. My godmother Diana doesn’t have one of those, and she’s…older than you. Plus they’re completely unwieldy.’

‘O tempora, o mores,’ Tess said tartly and then regretted it.

‘You think Cicero was saying we should give up plastic bags and use wicker baskets, do you?’ Adam asked, innocently. ‘Don’t show off your Latin with me, Tess. You know you’ll lose.’

Adam’s brain was a source of mystery to Tess; he never forgot anything, a quote, a story, an obscure piece of syntax. She taught Latin and Greek, and she often couldn’t remember the word for ‘ship’ in either language. But she could remember what happened one summer ten years ago as if it were yesterday, or Stephanie’s wedding, or Will’s face as he told her he loved her for the first time…Adam, she knew, had trouble remembering his own birthday.

It was curious, that tension that existed within him. She looked at him sideways as they walked along the street, he whistling, his hands stuck deep into his pockets. It was Roman, she supposed. Brilliant, practical, organized, neat—and yet chaotic, hopeless, romantic, kind at the same time. It was strange, she thought, that she, Tess, was now her teacher, and Adam, with all his brilliance—Adam was…what was he? She blinked, recalling herself to the present.

‘Er, I’m a bit sick of the deli. Cheese shop?’ Adam said, pulling her out of her reverie. She smiled at him as she spotted Liz putting a leg of ham back in the window of Jen’s Deli and looking up at the little high street in the sunshine. She waved at her.

‘Stop it,’ said Adam.

‘Oh, get over yourself,’ Tess said. ‘She’s in my class.’

‘Your class?’ said Adam.

‘Yes, absolutely,’ said Tess. ‘She’s pretty good actually. She’s coming to Rome. I’m part of her self-improvement programme. Just like you were,’ she added wickedly. Adam frowned as the bell sounded another lucky customer entering Mr Dill’s Cheese Emporium. ‘What do we need?’

‘Well.’ Tess tucked the basket—Adam was right, it was unwieldy—under her arm and counted off on her fingers. ‘Stuff for tonight. Stuff for our trip to the beach tomorrow. Hi, Andrea!’ She waved at Andrea Marsh, who was crossing the road.

‘Your window boxes are looking lovely,’ Andrea told her, but unwillingly, as if it cost her to do so. ‘Just going to see Miss Store, and I noticed them. Are they pansies?’

‘Yes! So glad you like them—agh!’ Tess swallowed, as a car drove past and Adam bodily dragged her up onto the pavement.

‘For God’s sake, be careful, T,’ he said, crossly.

‘See you at the meeting later!’ called Andrea, walking on.

‘Yes, absolutely,’ Tess called after her. ‘You going to that tonight?’

‘What?’ Adam said, looking back across the road. He was squinting at something. ‘Oh, the meeting? No, don’t think so.’

‘But everyone’s going,’ said Tess.

Adam nodded solemnly. ‘Who’s everyone?’

‘Well, you know.’ Tess waved her hands. ‘The people at the college—apart from Leonora Mortmain, of course—um, Ron, Suggs, Francesca—’

‘No, she’s not,’ said Adam. ‘We’re staying in and watching a film.’

‘But Adam—’ Tess remembered how curious he’d been about the campaign, the night of the first campaign meeting. ‘Suggs is organizing it. It’s going to be—’

‘Look how local you are these days,’ he said, mocking her. ‘Remember your first day back here, when you scorned the high street? Look at you now. Practically in bed with all the important people in town.’

Tess ignored him. ‘Adam, we should all go—’

Adam held up his hand. ‘I’m not going. Sorry. Let’s get some cheese. And then let’s argue about it some more.’

‘I’m not arguing,’ Tess said, even more patiently than he. ‘I am merely pointing out that—’

She swung the wicker basket behind her, as a soft male voice said, ‘Ouch.’

Tess froze, and looked up at Adam, who was gazing over her shoulder as if he’d seen a ghost.

‘Hi—God. It’s you. Forgot your name, sorry,’ said the voice.

‘It’s Adam,’ he said, and stepped a little closer towards Tess.

‘Of course. Tess’s old friend. Well, hi. I’m Will. Hi, Tess.’

She turned round mechanically, like a doll spinning on a music box.

‘Hi, Will,’ she said.

The last time Tess had seen Will was in January, at their friend Henry’s birthday drinks, at a pub on the New Kings Road. Tess had gone for one drink only and had waved, in a friendly, brisk way at Will on her way out, weaving through the crowded pub, heady with the scent of expensive perfume, cigarette smoke wafting in from outside, and lilies in huge vases on the bar, the smell of decay lingering behind their sweetness.

Will was holding hands with someone behind him; through the thick press of bodies around her she couldn’t see her face, but she knew it must be Ticky. Tess had smiled again at him, rolled her eyes as if she were fantastically busy and pushed past him mouthing ‘Bye’ as she fell out of the pub onto the pavement. There she had stood miserably in the sudden cold, her shoulders stooped, feeling like a total outsider. She hadn’t fitted in there, never would.

Now, she looked up at Will as he stood, tall and godlike on the high street. She remembered with a rush of recognition, like hearing a song that reminds you of a summer holiday, a curious feeling of alienation, of being different, an oddity, that came with being with Will.

‘Hello,’ Tess said, determined to be friendly and mature. She had practised just such a scenario with Meena in their flat—Meena!

It all came flooding back to her, now. The email! The bureau—oh, shit, that was why he was here.

‘Will, how are you?’ she said. She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, as Adam stood behind her. Gently he prised the wicker basket out of her hand, and put it on the ground. ‘And you must be Ticky,’ she added.

From behind Will stepped a tall, thin, fair girl, with the longest legs Tess had ever seen, enormous green eyes which bulged out from her tiny face. She was wearing what looked like a turquoise romper suit.

‘Hi!’ she said, slightly flatly, raising one hand. ‘I’m Ticky. It’s soooo great to meet you.’

Will, who was still gazing at Tess, nodded. ‘Hey, yous,’ he said—Tess had forgotten how soft his voice was. ‘You OK, hon?’

‘Super!’ Tess said, practically shouting.

‘Did you get my email, and the message? I’m sorry to just turn up here without warning, you know. But I did really want to give you back the bureau.’

He pronounced it ‘rally’ and ‘beeyurrrohw’.

Tess glanced from Ticky to herself as if mentally comparing their appearances. Hers (shortish, averageish, horrible black clompy shoes, top and cardigan—an old sage cardigan with big roomy pockets, oh, the inhumanity—and oh, dear God, was she really wearing an A-line skirt?) with Ticky’s (on-trend playsuit, honey-coloured limbs, soft blonde hair, cherry-red Havaianas). She gave a tiny groan, and Adam glanced at her.

‘Oh, the bureau!’ she said loudly. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t get in touch with you. Of course!’ She leaned in what she hoped was a nonchalant way against the nearest thing, which happened to be the wall of the cottage next to Mr Dill’s, the cheese shop. Unfortunately it was a little further away than she’d calculated, and she fell against the old stone with a thump, jarring her shoulder bone as she did so.

Will shook his head. ‘It’s fine,’ he said, smiling kindly, and put his fingers together. Watching him, Tess realized that he looked a bit like David Cameron; how had she not noticed this before?

‘So,’ said Adam, from behind her. ‘What are you doing here? What—er, what a nice surprise,’ he added quickly.

‘Ah—we’re on our way to Lucinda’s wedding,’ he said, as if Adam would naturally know who Lucinda was. ‘It’s in Dorset, at her dad’s place, really beautiful. We’re staying at the Tailor’s Arms with loads of friends.’ Ticky lolled against Will as he said this. ‘So—we thought we’d stop off here for a pint, and give you the bureau. Pit stop!’ he finished. He looked round, trying to sound enthusiastic. ‘Lovely town, I must say. You live near here?’

‘Yes,’ said Tess, mechanically. ‘Just round the corner.’

‘Ah.’ He rocked on his feet. ‘And—great. So, everything OK with you then, hon?’

If you call me hon again I will bite off your head and store it in the bureau after you’ve gone. ‘Yes, great, thanks.’

‘Really?’ Will said, as if he knew this was rubbish but was keeping up the pretence.

‘Will was worried about you, when you didn’t reply,’ Ticky ventured suddenly, her voice rusty with misuse; she herself looked surprised that she’d spoken. Tess’s hands curled into fists; she tried to breathe. ‘He thought you were probably still—’

‘This all sounds lovely,’ came Adam’s voice behind Tess. He slipped his arm round her waist. ‘Where are you parked? Shall we show you the house, and we can unload the bureau?’

‘Great,’ said Will, looking with surprise at Adam’s hand on Tess’s hip.

‘Tell you what,’ said Adam. He smoothed back her hair, and kissed Tess’s forehead. ‘Darling, why don’t you carry on and go to the grocer’s before it shuts, and I’ll take Will and—I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.’

‘Ticky!’ Ticky said brightly. ‘It’s short for Candida.’

‘Of course it is!’ Adam said, nodding enthusiastically. ‘Very nice to meet you. Well, I’ll take Will and Ticky to the cottage and we’ll get the bureau inside. Sorry,’ he said, turning to Will. ‘You know us country folk. The shops round here shut at five, I’m afraid, and we’re going to the seaside tomorrow. Need to get stuff in.’

‘Oh, absolutely,’ Will said, nodding through his astonishment.

Adam took Tess’s other hand, and kissed it. ‘That OK with you, sweetums?’ He turned to Will. ‘She hates it when I call her that, don’t you!’ He squeezed Tess’s waist.

‘Sure do,’ said Tess, stepping into the role with an aplomb that surprised her. ‘Well, that sounds great, my little cutie-pie.’ She moved towards Adam, and made kissing sounds at him. He silenced her by grabbing her, dipping her and kissing her on the mouth.

‘Sorry,’ he said, turning back towards Will and Ticky as he flung her upright again. ‘Wow. We’re just still really in that honeymoon period, aren’t we, my love? Grrr.’ He slapped Tess’s bottom.

‘Grrr,’ said Tess, slapping him back. ‘My God, yes!’ she cried gaily. ‘We’re at it all day, I’m pleased to say!’

There was a silence. Adam cleared his throat and looked at the pavement, trying not to laugh. Will and Ticky stared at them, clearly rendered speechless: this wasn’t in their plan, it was clear. ‘Gosh,’ said Will eventually, clearly not sure what else to say. ‘Nice one guys.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Let’s get going then, shall we? Car’s parked just here—’ he pointed down the road—‘and off to the side.’

‘Then I think you’re in Tess’s street,’ said Adam. ‘Bloody marvellous.’ He turned back to her, solemnly. ‘OK, sweetums?’ he asked, his eyes sparkling. ‘Try not to miss me too much. I know I’ll miss you.’

‘What about Francesca?’ Tess said, trying not to smile at him.

‘I’ll just make sure she’s OK before we start unloading. Francesca’s my sister,’ he told Will and Ticky firmly. ‘And she’s ill. She’s very ill.’ They looked alarmed. ‘Er—with the flu,’ he amended hastily. ‘So I’ll just go and warn her not to come down while we’re carrying the bureau in. The chill might kill her. And—er, she might be infectious, so also you should keep away from her and not talk to her, if you see her.’

‘Yes,’ said Tess, marvelling at the fecundity of his imagination. ‘We’ve only just been given the all-clear ourselves. From the…clinic. So—er, bye then,’ she said. ‘Great to see you, Will. And Ticky.’

‘Absolutely!’ Ticky said with something like enthusiasm, banging her hands together. ‘Rally great.’

‘Yes,’ said Will, nodding ponderously. ‘Look, Tess—this is all fab, you know? Seems super for you, just—yah.’ He stepped back, nodding, his eyes half-closed.

‘Give my love to Lucinda,’ said Tess. ‘Hope the weekend’s fun. Sorry to dash off. I’ll see you later,’ she added, to Adam.

‘Mhhm,’ Adam said, with gusto. ‘Shall I just meet you in the pub in twenty minutes or so?’

‘Lovely,’ said Tess. ‘Perfect, in fact.’

He took her hand and kissed it. She clutched his hand back, inexpressibly touched by the gesture, and he shook his head and smiled at her.

She should have known as she walked into the Feathers a little later, her basket laden with food for three, that they’d be there; should have known that Will, totally intrigued, would want to stay for a drink before they set off again. He had a kind of prurient curiosity; she’d always found it rather contradictory, that he could be so concerned with wearing the right tie, and presenting the right face to the world and yet also so fascinated with the mundane, private details of people’s lives. How much things cost, how often So-and-So had sex, how big X’s new house was. She hadn’t noticed it, till it was almost over between them, of course. Harmless, yes; kind, patrician, with his curling upper lip and cufflinks; impressive, probably. Tall and strong, the kind of man who would protect you—yes, undoubtedly, apart from the time that pitbull had barked at them in the street and he’d pushed Tess in front of him.

As Tess walked through the bar to the terrace outside, directed there by Mick’s jerk of the head, and found the three of them sitting companionably, looking out over the great view across the valley towards Thornham, its church tower golden in the afternoon sun, she almost nodded to herself at the inevitability of it all, then remembered, with a start, the part she—and her new boyfriend—had to play.

‘Hello!’ she said, feigning a brightness she did not feel. ‘How nice!’

‘Well,’ said Will, standing up, his hands slapping the wooden table. ‘We thought it’d be nice to check out your new local pub. We’ve got ages to get to Dorset.’

Pointless to tell him that it wasn’t her new local, that she’d lived here all her life, known it longer than she’d known him, this view, these hills, the old city wall down to the left, covered in ivy; and Adam, standing next to him, watching him with amusement. Will never remembered what she’d told him. He’d visited her parents, he knew they’d taken early retirement and lived by the sea, but it wouldn’t occur to him to remember anything beyond that.

Channel one of the nice ladies of Langford, she told herself. Jan Allingham would know how to cope with this. Tess put her basket down on the table. ‘Who needs another drink?’ she asked, hoping against hope that the answer would be ‘Oh, no, thanks. We’ll be on our way now!’

‘I’d love another pint of Butcombe’s,’ Will said. ‘Thanks very much.’

Ticky smiled up at her, slightly vacantly. ‘Just a sparkling water for me, thanks, Tess.’

‘I’ll get them.’ Adam jumped up, and pushed her ahead of him into the shady corridor. ‘Hot air balloon,’ he said, briefly. ‘Just remember, hot air balloon. Over Bristol.’

‘What?’ Tess said, quite bewildered.

‘No time. Hot air balloon. Oh, and it’s been a month.’

‘What?’ she said again, exasperated, but Adam pushed her back out onto the terrace.

‘They’ll be gone soon,’ he said into her ear. ‘Go!’

Ticky patted the bench. ‘Your house is wonderful,’ she said, with the charm of the privileged. ‘It’s so cute!’ She smiled, displaying dazzling white teeth, as Will lolled beside her, his hand carelessly draped between her thighs. ‘I love it.’

‘Thanks,’ said Tess, sitting opposite them. ‘I like it.’

‘We got the bureau in, no worries,’ said Will. ‘Looks jolly nice in that little sitting room.’

She turned to him gratefully. ‘Thanks, Will. And—look, thanks a lot for bringing it all this way. It’s really sweet of you.’

‘No problemo,’ he said, with hearty gusto. ‘I’m—uh—I’m glad you’re all sorted now. Seems to suit you, out here.’

‘Thanks,’ she told him. ‘It does. I love it.’

‘Well, that’s really good,’ he said, staring intently between the slats of the table. ‘And you and Adam—that’s, yep.’

‘And it’s so romantic.’ Ticky interrupted her reverie. ‘Just so sweet, I love it.’

‘What’s so sweet?’ Tess said, blankly.

‘How you got together. His birthday present. That’s so sweet of you. I’d love to do that.’ She edged closer to Will, snuggling against him, and swinging her legs over his so she was almost sitting on his lap, like a little girl on Santa’s knee.

‘Do what?’ Tess said. They looked at her curiously. ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, realization flooding through her. ‘Sorry! The hot air balloon.’ Bloody Adam, what was he thinking? ‘Yes, it was a lovely way to spend, er—to spend his birthday.’ His birthday was in the next couple of weeks, wasn’t it? Or was she dreaming?

Happily, Adam appeared then, carrying a tray.

‘We’re just talking about the hot air balloon,’ Tess said.

‘Oh, of course,’ Adam said, setting the tray down on the table. He wiped his hands.

‘That’s just fantastic,’ said Ticky. ‘So—impetuous, for a first date.’ Adam looked at Tess.

‘Yes, I suppose so,’ he said. ‘But when you know, you know.’ He paused.

‘You’ve known each other since you were—’ Will gestured towards the ground—‘yay high, what took you so long?’

‘It’s a good question,’ Adam said. ‘I don’t really know.’

He bit his lip and flicked a glance at Tess.

‘Me neither, sweetums,’ she said, but the name was starting to grate, now.

‘I forgot to ask you what you wanted,’ he said. ‘So I got you a pint as well. I know you love a bit of bitter. Hah.’ He laughed, nervously.

Bitter. She hated bitter, almost as much as she hated aubergines. ‘Oh,’ she said, narrowing her eyes as she took the drinks off the tray. ‘Thanks.’

‘You?’ Will asked. ‘You like bitter? I thought you never drank beer. You always said it made you, er—full of wind.’

There was a silence. Ticky swung her legs back and nodded sorrowfully at Tess, as if acknowledging a dreadful truth no one else was brave enough to admit.

‘Hey,’ Adam said, raising an eyebrow. ‘Tess does a lot of things these days she didn’t used to.’ He cleared his throat, realizing this was maybe a bit too much.

Tess kicked him under the table and took a deep breath, letting the scent of wood smoke and country air fill her nostrils, calm her down. Then she looked at Will, almost impassively. His hair was ever so thick; rudely so, corn yellow, almost ginger, it stuck out from his bowed head, veering alarmingly towards her. She saw, as if it were a scene from someone else’s life, a film, her hands running through that hair, the pleasure she once felt at being with him, in his rush-matted, neutral flat in Fulham, how correct and safe and proper she always believed she was as his girlfriend, when they were a unit, a neat unit of two. She shook her head, trying to recall this person she had been then.

They had discussed Aristophanes’s speech in Plato’s Symposium that morning in class. The Symposium said that humans were originally two people joined together until the gods, fearing their strength and their speed, had ripped them apart. So that humans are condemned to spend their lives merely one half looking for that other half and when they find the other half, they can finally be together with them for ever. Tess loved that idea, had always loved it. But was it true? Was Will, this person she had pinned all her hopes on, that other human? She couldn’t believe it now. Ticky was that person to him, it was absolutelyobvious. And she—she breathed out, raggedly, not sure she could go on with this charade, and suddenly felt a cool hand on her forearm.

‘You OK?’ Adam said in a low voice, as if it were just the two of them, as if Will and Ticky weren’t there, and she felt herself say calmly, ‘Fine.’

He squeezed her wrist, quickly, his thumb on the underside of her skin. ‘Yes.’ He turned back to the others. ‘Well, cheers,’ he said. ‘Great to see you both.’

They sat in silence again and drank their drinks, and Tess glanced at him, her mind racing.

‘Thanks, thanks a lot, bruv,’ she said, as they walked back down the high street later that evening. ‘I owe you.’

Adam stepped back and held his hand up. ‘No worries, g’friend,’ he said. ‘It’s his loss.’

Tess stared at him. ‘Are you drunk?’

Adam shrugged. ‘A bit, maybe. I did have four pints. I thought they were never going to leave! I’m sorry, I know he’s your ex.’

‘I know,’ Tess said, glaring down at the paving slabs, watching her feet step on each crack. ‘I know. He’s so different from me. He looks—’ she trailed off.

‘He looks like a member of the Bullingdon Club on his way to a reunion,’ said Adam, his tongue loosened by alcohol and release from stilted conversation. ‘I didn’t think people like that still existed.’

She wanted to be cross, but she couldn’t be. ‘You’re right,’ Tess said. ‘He was a bit like that. I don’t know, I just never saw that in him…’ She paused. ‘He wasn’t—I don’t know. He wasn’t a bad man. He isn’t a bad man.’

‘Never really knew what you saw in him, if I’m being honest,’ Adam said simply. ‘Sorry again. That’s rude.’

‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘I…I think I was looking for something. Something that wasn’t there.’

‘I have known you for a while now, you know.’ Adam poked her in the arm. ‘He just never seemed—’ He shrugged. ‘Oh, well.’

There was silence; it was a chilly evening, and the high street was virtually deserted. ‘You coming back to ours?’ said Tess.

It was an obvious question—they were nearly home, and Adam’s house was the other end of the town. ‘Um, if that’s OK,’ said Adam.

‘Of course it’s OK,’ said Tess. She laughed. ‘I liked it when you told them we were going to a Sandals resort for our holidays. Will’s face.’

‘I liked it more when you told them you liked it when I spoke to you in a Russian accent,’ Adam replied. ‘God only knows what they think now.’

There was a silence again. Tess said in a small voice, ‘It was—good to see him. But…I don’t really care what they think.’

‘Good,’ Adam said. ‘Neither do I, Tess.’ They carried on walking for a little while. ‘Listen, T—’ he said.

But at the same time Tess suddenly burst out, ‘I don’t know why I went out with him.’

‘Right,’ said Adam. ‘I have to say…’ He trailed off.

‘Two years, too,’ Tess said, faltering. It seems like a dream now, she wanted to say. But it wasn’t, because a few drinks with him again and she could see now what that time with Will had done to her. He was so…oh, she’d never really seen it before, but he was a little pompous. So sure he was right and reluctant to hear her point of view, as though she was a stupid little girl. He spoke slowly, and when she tried to interrupt him, he simply carried on talking. And the sex—what sex. At first—and she cringed to think of it now—she’d rather liked his professorial, grown-up way of treating her, had found it rather a turn-on that he was so formal, reserved, buttoned up. Now, when she thought of how she’d tried to get him to want her more, tried to excite him, it made her want to disappear, as fast as possible, into the ground. And she’d begun to think that was normal, that it would always be like that…She looked down at herself with disgust. He just hadn’t fancied her, that was all, and why would he? He was hanging on in there till something better came along, something Ticky-shaped, with honey-coloured limbs and hair and friends in common and…Ugh.

‘Penny for your thoughts,’ came Adam’s voice in the darkness, startling her. Tess laughed, hollowly. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘What’s on your mind?’

‘You don’t want to know,’ Tess said bleakly.

‘Come on,’ said Adam. ‘It’s me, T. I’ve just spent the evening pretending to be your boyfriend.’ He said, in a thick Russian accent, ‘We have no secrets, Misha.’

Oh, I was just thinking about the last time I had sex with Will, and he stopped halfway through and said, ‘Can we just stop this? Let’s just go to sleep, shall we?’ and then picked up the FT while I lay there, naked, next to him…

‘Seriously,’ Tess said, kicking a dandelion out of the way as they turned into Lord’s Lane. ‘You really don’t want to know. And I don’t want to tell you.’

‘Is this the Dealbreaker that you won’t tell me about? You are turning into a bit of a librarian, I have to say,’ said Adam smugly.

Tess stared at him with loathing, all former understanding and maturity between them gone. ‘What?’ she practically cried.

‘Well, T. All that chat to Will about the course you’re teaching. And all that stuff about Ancient Rome. I mean, no one likes all that better than me, but when you started going on about how the hole in the roof of the Pantheon was twenty-seven feet in diameter—well. Even I was a bit bored. I thought Ticky was going to fall asleep.’

Tess took her hands out of her cardigan pockets. ‘What the hell, Adam?’ she yelled. ‘Not this again. Don’t you find that interesting?’ Adam shook his head, smiling at her. ‘Well, you should,’ Tess told him tartly. ‘The Pantheon, it’s the greatest building ever! They still don’t know how it was built! And—boring Ticky, it’s hardly a difficult subject, is it? She’s about as interesting as a—a slice of brown bread!’ She pointed over her shoulder, as if Ticky were there. ‘Before it’s even become bread!’ She cast around her. ‘Like—when it’s flour! No, when it’s wheat! She’s like a field of wheat! Even more boring than that, like a—a—!’ She ran out of steam and stared at him. ‘I can’t believe you said that.’

Adam opened the door; she wondered, in the back of her mind, why he now owned a set of keys. ‘Tessa. I’m not having a go at the person who built the Pantheon, OK? I’m just saying, there’s a time and a place,’ he said, smoothly, waving tacitly to Francesca, who was sprawled on the sofa clutching a box of toffees, her long brown hair glowing against the electric blue of the Chinese silk dressing gown. She raised her eyebrows, waved at them with one hand, and popped another toffee in her mouth with the other. Adam took off his coat. ‘And the time and the place were not necessarily then.’

‘Sup?’ Francesca mumbled indistinctly. ‘Howas the jink?’

‘Awful,’ said Tess, bitterly. ‘He’s an idiot, she’s an idiot, I can’t see any reason why I was with him all that time, and, by the way, according to Adam not only am I really boring, but I’m turning into a sodding librarian.’ She kicked off her shoes.

Francesca raised her eyebrows again, as Adam moved over to the sofa and took her hand; he flicked each of her fingers, gently, looking down at her, and kissed her gently on the lips.

‘Librarians are great, my mum’s a librarian,’ Francesca said. ‘It’s not that. I think it’s more that you’re turning into an old lady.’ She nodded, as if she was glad she’d found the point of what Adam was getting at. ‘Mmm.’

‘Yes,’ said Adam. ‘That’s it.’

Francesca slid a toffee into his mouth, her thumb catching his bottom lip. Adam’s eyes glazed over.

Tess, still standing by the door in her bare feet, felt as if she might have been a novelty act they were keeping in a cage, like a female Elephant Man. Elephant Lady. Who has some interesting information about Roman temples. She sighed, wobbily, feeling the beer swilling around inside her. ‘I’m going to bed,’ she said, her voice aching, and it sounded as though she was merely grumpy. ‘Night.’

‘Night,’ Francesca called.

‘By the way, thanks again, Adam,’ Tess yelled as she stomped up the stairs.

‘Any time, T,’ Adam said. ‘Night, pet.’

There was silence from the sofa, as the TV talked to itself, and Tess closed the door to her room and leaned against it, staring blankly at the white wall opposite. What was happening to her? She felt as though was playing her own version of Snakes and Ladders, or some other board game. Someone who’d taken one step forwards, two steps back. From downstairs, she heard soft laughter and a low moan. Tess buried her head in the pillow, and finally let herself cry.