Page 62 of Last Letter Home
Be there in 10. She switched off the light and opened the door. At the last second her eyes fell on the parcel again. Curious. She snatched it up, pushing it into the depths of her bag.
The bistro was in an old cellar like a smugglers’ cave, a series of small, low-ceilinged rooms, poorly lit, and it took Briony a while to find Aruna amid the crowds. Then she rounded a corner to see her friend sitting alone in a secluded booth, a bottle of wine half-drunk in front of her, the paper tablecloth red-ringed from the glass she was holding. The expression on Aruna’s face, a mixture of bitterness and distress as she stared at her phone, made Briony hold back, fearing to intrude on a private moment.
She’d only seen Aruna once since Norfolk, and the occasion had been a holiday reunion with Zoe, Mike and Luke. She’d been aware of Luke and Aruna the whole evening, looking for signs that anything had changed between them, but the only awkwardness was her own feeling of guilt, which was, she knew, uncalled for. It wasn’t her fault that Luke had nearly stepped over the bounds of friendship, was it, so why should she be feeling this way?
After she’d left Westbury she had dwelled on what had happened – or might have happened if she’d let it – haunted still by the sense of Luke’s physical presence, so close to her that she could feel the warm life of him in his breath, the strength and tenderness of his hand on her arm, the concern in his kind blue eyes and, yes, what she surely hadn’t imagined, his desire for her.
It wasn’t any good, she’d told herself fiercely. She wasn’t some naïve teenager. Luke was in a relationship with her best friend and she wasn’t going to betray Aruna simply to be Luke’s side dish. It had seemed better in the end to try to banish him from her thoughts, to leave the two of them to sort themselves out. It was, of course, a pity that Luke couldn’t simply be her friend, but perhaps she’d been too idealistic about that.
Anyway, on the reunion evening, Aruna and Luke seemed fine together, so perhaps she’d misinterpreted the whole episode. In which case she was guilty of something else – fantasizing like some stereotypical dried-up old maid. Either way, she felt unsure and self-conscious with them both, and she hadn’t wanted to see either of them for a bit until she felt she could be natural and relax with them again.
Aruna put her phone down. Briony walked out of the shadows.
‘Hi. You have hidden yourself away,’ she said in as light a voice as she could muster.
‘Oh, hi. There wasn’t another table.’ Aruna jumped up to kiss her, affectionate as ever. She smelled of wine and her favourite flowery perfume, the same as always. Perhaps, thought Briony, she’d imagined that bitter expression. ‘It’s really busy for a Monday.’ No, she decided, Aruna did sound a little sad. She slid onto the bench opposite and Aruna sloshed wine into a second glass and passed it across.
‘Cheers. So how are you, Bri? I can’t believe it’s been so long.’
‘I am sorry. My life’s been manic.’
‘Mine too. Good manic, I hope?’
‘You know, the usual. You?’
‘So – so. God, I’m tired. I’ve been away for a couple of nights interviewing homeless people in Glasgow. Not much sleep.’ She pushed back her dark hair and sighed. ‘And wine on an empty stomach, big mistake.’
‘Let’s look at the menu then.’ Briony handed over one of the laminated cards from its stand on the table and began to study the other, but she was aware of Aruna’s phone buzzing and Aruna slavishly peering at the screen.
‘Seafood risotto for me,’ she said, watching Aruna frown.
‘Sorry, this can’t wait.’ Aruna’s finger flew across the screen. Then she laid the phone down, but picked it up when it buzzed again.
After the third time, Briony placed her hand over the phone and drew it out of Aruna’s reach.
‘Let me have it,’ Aruna said with a sigh.
‘Only if you put it away.’
‘You’re such a nag.’ She glanced at the screen one last time before pushing the phone into the depths of her handbag. ‘There. Let’s order.’
They flagged down a young man with a white apron folded round his narrow waist, who listened to their order, then with quick movements delivered a basket of bread, a dish of olive oil with herbs and a handful of cutlery before vanishing again. Aruna drenched a piece of bread in the oil and ate hungrily. Briony crumbled her piece unhappily, full of concern for her friend.
‘How’s Luke?’ she said, experiencing a stab of tenderness at the name.
‘Fine. He’s fine,’ Aruna said more cheerfully, licking oil from her fingers. ‘Though he’s been in Norfolk far too much designing that garden. He may be in touch with you, actually. Something about needing to see those letters of yours.’
‘Sarah Bailey’s?’
‘Yes. He told me to tell you. Details of any plants she might have mentioned.’
‘Ah. Well, that would be all right.’ She was intrigued to hear that the garden project was underway. ‘I could email him my transcript. Has he heard anything about Mrs Clare?’
‘The old lady? Can’t remember. The same, I think. Back at home now and recovering very slowly. You’ll have to ask him.’ Aruna’s lack of interest in the matter was more than apparent.
‘You don’t like him doing the garden?’ Briony asked.
A shrug. ‘It’s up to him. I wouldn’t interfere with his work. But since you ask, no, I don’t particularly. I’m having to be away a lot at the moment, too. It’s an extra strain on us.’
