Page 30 of We All Live Here
There is a short silence.
“Actually, we’re not together any more,” Lila says finally.
The girl’s smile drops.
“What? Completely not together? Like you’ve actually split up?”
“No. I mean, yes.”
“But why?”
Lila smiles. “He—he went off with someone else.”
The girl’s eyes widen. “You’re kidding.”
“No. She’s pregnant and having his baby.”
The girl stares at her, as if this is some awful joke and she’s waiting for the punchline.
“Oh,” she says eventually. “Oh.”
“Sorry,” says Lila. She is not entirely sure why she’s saying sorry, but she feels somehow as if she’s let the girl down.
“That’s okay.” The girl’s bottom lip is actually trembling. “It’s just so sad. Oh, my God—haven’t you got kids?”
Lila swallows. “It’s fine. Honestly. They’re fine. We’re all fine.” When the girl doesn’t look convinced, she adds: “I’m actually writing a newbook. About how much fun it is being single. That’s what I’m here to talk to Anoushka about.”
There is a short silence. The girl stares at a piece of paper on her desk. “I hated being single. It made me really sad.”
The phone rings. The girl snaps to attention, replacing her headset on her hair.
“Anoushka Mellors Literary Agency,” she says, in a singsong voice. “Hold on, I’ll put you through to Foreign Rights.”
•••
“Darling, how are you?You lookfantastic.”
Lila does not look fantastic. After five hours’ sleep she looks like the woman who drinks Tennent’s Extra outside Camden Town tube station and wears plastic bags on her feet, but she smiles and nods as if it might be true.
“How are those gorgeous girls of yours?”
“Fine,” says Lila, automatically. “I’ve had both my dads staying. So that’s been fun.”
“Bothyour dads?” Anoushka blinks at her, briefly distracted from her screen. She is wearing a bright turquoise blouse and matching earrings, the kind of woman for whom dressing is always a statement.
“My stepfather, Bill, whom you’ve met. And my biological dad, Gene, whom you haven’t.”
“Oh, my goodness! How very modern! Two grandpas! I bet the girlsloveit.”
Lila smiles blandly, recalling the two old men shoving each other and flicking tea-towels in her narrow hallway. “It’s been…interesting. Anyway, my ‘real’ dad went home. So it’s just us and Bill again.” Bill, whose whole demeanor has become immediately sunnier, who now whistles in the morning, who has attacked the so-called memorial garden with a new fervor.
“How lovely. Right. To business! I have wonderful news.”
“You do?”
“Regent House are desperate to read your new manuscript. Apparently sexy menopause is all the rage at the moment.”
“Menopause?” Lila peers over the desk. “But I—I’m not menopausal.”
