Page 98 of Midnight in Paris

‘Scary, isn’t it?’

‘What, getting old?’

‘Well, old-ER.’

‘A bit,’ she said. ‘But I guess it’s a privilege too.’

They were silent for a moment then, ‘Sorry,’ she added.

‘What?’

‘Well, bringing the mood down. I wasn’t really thinking about Tom when I said it. It’s just odd, seeing the years tick by and thinking about where you thought you’d be, comparing it to how things are.’

‘Oh, God. Definitely. But you know, I was talking to my grandad and he said he feels the same.’

‘How old is he?’

‘Ninety-four.’

‘So basically, there’s no hope for us,’ Sophie said, laughing. ‘Destined to reach our tenth decades and still wonder where all the time went.’

‘The human condition,’ he suggested.

‘Yeah. If we’re lucky.’ And there it was again, that dip of sadness. Tom entering the conversation by stealth.

‘Do you want to—?’ he said, then stopped abruptly.

‘What?’

‘No, don’t worry.’

‘Come on, Will. You can’t leave me hanging like that. Do I want to what? Have another coffee? Travel to the Congo? Do a bungee jump?’

He grinned. ‘I was just going to ask if you fancied giving rowing another go. If you can cope with it, that is.’

She flexed an arm. ‘I never really stopped,’ she admitted.

‘What?’

‘Been going to the gym. You know, keeping up with it a bit. It’s not the same, but…’

‘Oh, that’s cool.’

They sipped their drinks quietly for a moment. ‘Sorry how I was back then. I wanted to call but…’

He nodded, acknowledging.

‘But it would be nice to row again – for real, I mean.’

‘Really? Because I’d really like that too.’

‘I’ve missed it,’ she said. Then, ‘And you. I’ve missed you.’

She looked at him, setting her cup down in her saucer. Was she really going to say it? ‘And you know,’ she said, feeling her cheeks get hot, ‘I’d like to be friends again, too. If that’s OK?’

He smiled. ‘Soph, we never stopped being friends.’

‘Thank you,’ she said.

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