Page 69 of The Two Lives of Lydia Bird

‘I don’t like to think of myself as someone who runs away,’ he says. ‘But, yeah, maybe a bit.’

We sit in silence for a minute and I briefly entertain the idea of doing something similar, of catching a plane to the other side of the world for a while to see if life feels lighter there.

‘So, what? You’re loosely planning to go to LA and hope things go well?’

‘It feels like time for a change,’ he shrugs. ‘LA is as good a place as any.’

Dee was partially right then; Jonah does need to get away, but hopefully not for ever.

‘Good for you, Jonah,’ I say softly, because I understand that in a roundabout way he’s come here today to ask for my blessing. ‘I hope it’s the start of something good for you.’

‘That means a lot to me,’ he says, sincere, grabbing my hand. ‘You’ll always mean a lot to me, Lyds. I don’t want us to ever lose our friendship.’

Distant echoes of the hen night, my two worlds brushing close to each other. Here, thankfully, we are as we’ve always been. Old friends.

‘Me neither,’ I say, squeezing his fingers.

He glances at the chair where Freddie used to sit, and then around my living room. ‘This place is starting to feel more like yours these days.’

‘You think?’ I say, surprised by the idea. I haven’t changed much: a new cushion here, a lamp there, a bohemian mirror I spotted on the way home from work the other day. I sort of understand what Jonah means though. It’s inevitable, I suppose, a necessary evolution as the shape of my life changes.

We fall quiet again, and then I tell him something I hadn’t planned to.

‘I’ve been seeing someone.’

Jonah looks at me as if I’ve just grown a second head. ‘Seeing someone?’

‘We met up a couple of times.’

He shakes his head as if it’s the most outlandish thought. ‘I never imagined you dating someone else.’

His judgement stings. ‘You’re not the only one entitled to a life after him, you know.’

He drops his arm over my shoulders and pulls me in against his side. ‘I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just … you and someone else. It feels weird.’

He has no idea. ‘Imagine how it feels to me.’

We sit there in silence for a while, his arm a comfortable weight, our heads tipped back against the sofa.

‘Big-shot movie man.’

He laughs softly when I shoulder bump him. It’s a familiarity I’ve missed more than I realized.

‘Shall we get pizza?’ he asks.

I look at the coffee table. It’s held countless pizzas over the years, Freddie and Jonah’s standard football dinner.

I guess it could stand one more.

I wait on the step and wave him off as he climbs back into the Saab just after nine. Jonah Jones in LA. Who knew? They’ll eat him alive. Or maybe they won’t. Perhaps he’ll switch pizza for egg-white omelettes and industrial strength coffee for kale shots. As I close the door, I console myself with two things. One, he didn’t declare himself in love with me, and two, at least it’s not bloody Wales.

Saturday 20 July

It’s raining. It’s six thirty on Saturday morning and rain is beating against my bedroom window, the remnants of a tropical storm rumbling its way across the Atlantic from the Caribbean. I’m in bed and today would have been my wedding day. Today is still my wedding day, somewhere in a world beyond my own. Is it raining cats and dogs there too? Are we all huddled in Mum’s kitchen in our dressing gowns, looking out of the window, coffee mugs in our hands, cursing the rain-clouded skies? Or are we eating a celebratory early breakfast around the table together, not giving a hoot about the weather because it’s my wedding day, and if needs be I’d marry Freddie Hunter in my jeans in a hailstorm? I hope it’s that one.

My family have gone with the ‘don’t mention it’ approach in the run-up to today. Elle’s at work; this is her final wedding at the hotel before she goes on parental leave. She’s eight months pregnant now and trying not to let her bump protrude into the edges of people’s wedding photographs. Stef, who I’ve still to meet properly, has taken Mum away for the weekend. She made an absolute song and dance about telling me and Elle, suggesting that she was going to the Lakes and that by some unholy coincidence Stef had booked to go to the same place at the same time, so they’re travelling together to save on petrol. Even David, who never comments, had to raise the newspaper to eye level so Mum couldn’t see him laughing.

Jonah left for LA a couple of days ago too, so all the major players in my now non-existent wedding are busy doing other things. Life’s weird like that, isn’t it? Today would have been full of wedding-related things for everyone: Mum pinning buttonholes on with her rollers in, Jonah nervously checking the rings were still in his pocket, neighbours nipping out into the street in their slippers to wave us off to church. And because none of those things are now going to happen, today has been filled with different things: work and the Lakes and LA, like a shelf in a shop being restocked for a new season. The only person who hasn’t refilled the day with something else is me. I don’t need to, because I’m still going to my wedding.

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