Page 86 of The Two Lives of Lydia Bird

And then, of course, there’s Freddie. I haven’t slipped through the back door in the universe since that terrible day in New York for fear of making everything worse. I feel as if I’m navigating the map of my heart with a faulty compass, trying to work out where I live now.

And, finally, there’s Jonah Jones. When Freddie was here Jonah had a defined role in my life as his best friend, which somewhere along the way meant he couldn’t be my best friend too. We settled into that dynamic, our own friendship shelved because we had to vie for Freddie’s attention. And now he isn’t here standing between us any more it’s as if we’re remembering what drew us to each other in the first place, what we mean to each other. He is my oldest friend. His name on my phone lifts my heart.

Sunday 22 September

‘I think you should go home.’

Vita and I are drinking coffee on the restaurant terrace. My skin is only a few shades off hers now, the seasoned colour of someone who spends all their days in the sun rather than shoe-horning two weeks into their fluorescent-lit, office-based life. The summer rush is over and life here has slowed to a more leisurely pace.

‘I know,’ I say. I’ve been thinking the same thing. Mum and I have resorted to communicating by text in recent weeks because talking has become so fractious, and it’s easier to chat to Elle that way too. The last couple of times I’ve called she’s had to dash because Charlotte was screaming or had just thrown up down David’s clean work shirt.

‘You can always come back. We’re not going anywhere,’ Vita says, sipping her coffee.

‘You’re lucky to feel so sure,’ I say, envious of her seemingly simple life.

She winds the string of her apron around her fingers. ‘You make your own luck, Lydia.’

‘Do you think so, really?’ I ask, not sure I agree. ‘Because sometimes I feel as if life just sweeps me along and it’s all I can do not to hit the rocks.’

She snorts through her nose. ‘Rocks won’t kill you.’

‘They might,’ I mutter.

‘So hide out here for the rest of your life to avoid the rocks?’ She shrugs, her dark eyes full of challenge.

I look out at the sea. ‘Is that what I’m doing?’

Vita shrugs again. ‘Isn’t it?’

I know she’s bang on the money. I’ve been here for sixty-three days now. Sixty-three days without seeing my family, and almost as many without seeing Freddie.

‘What would you do if you weren’t afraid, Lydia?’

Her question goes straight to the heart of me, as usual. I mull it over.

‘I’d have my hair cut off,’ I say. Getting it cut feels like such a big deal because Freddie loved it long; chopping it would seem like I’m not taking his feelings into account. Which is crazy, I know.

‘Want me to do it right now?’ she offers. ‘I used to cut my sister’s all the time.’

I’m not sure if she’s kidding, but I shake my head. ‘I’m not ready yet.’

Vita pushes her chair back and stands up, her hand on my shoulder. ‘Don’t leave it much longer.’

Tuesday 24 September

‘She’s fussy at the moment, won’t go to anyone else,’ Elle says. ‘Not even David.’

I came straight here this morning after a late flight last night. I’ve been here for ten minutes and I can’t shake the feeling that Elle wishes I’d leave. I should probably have called ahead; the house is a bit of a mess and she looks as if she’s been wearing the same stained T-shirt for a few days. It’s very un-Elle; I know how much she’ll dislike appearing so un-put-together.

‘Can I help?’ I feel really useless. Charlotte is tomato red from crying and seems to have the lung capacity of a small horse. ‘I could – I don’t know – wash up or something?’

Elle’s eyes fill with tears. ‘I can’t help the mess, Lydia. You try looking after another human on two hours’ sleep a night, broken sleep at that, and then see if you feel like cleaning up.’

‘Shall I make a cup of tea?’ I’m walking on eggshells, trying to work out whether to stay and help or go.

‘I don’t have any milk until David gets back from work,’ she says, and then laughs, wide-eyed and hollow. ‘Unless you count these.’ She gestures down at her boobs, the baby squirming on one shoulder. ‘Because this dairy is never allowed to run out, night and day, on bloody demand.’

‘I’ll nip and grab some,’ I say, glad of a job. ‘Is there anything else you need?’

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