Page 2 of Ex in the City
‘Nice to meet you, I’m Nicole,’ I reply.
‘Sorry, I know this is weird, but I feel like I know you,’ Lisa continues.
I cock my head curiously, studying her face carefully. Lisa looks like she’s in her early thirties, the same sort of age as me, but otherwise, I still can’t find any familiarity in her face. She’s tall – distinctively so – with long, glossy red hair. She makes a good impression that I can’t imagine forgetting.
‘Lots of people around here know Rowan Nutter, my partner,’ I suggest because everyone in the village knows and adores Rowan.
‘And we all see Nicole all over his Instagram,’ Suzanne, one of the au pairs, pipes up, joining the conversation out of nowhere, keen to help solve the mystery.
Lisa’s brow furrows as she visibly racks her brains.
‘No, it’s not that,’ Lisa replies, sighing lightly. ‘Hmm, weird, perhaps you just have one of those faces. I could have sworn I knew you – maybe in another life, hey?’
‘Maybe,’ I reply with a smile. ‘Either way, it’s lovely to meet you.’
‘Yeah, I don’t usually pick the kids up,’ she begins to explain. ‘We’re new to the area and the au pair usually…’
I try to focus on what Lisa is saying but my brain wanders off. Lisa and I are around the same age but she has a local accent (the same London-suburb yummy-mummy accent everyone has here apart from me) and I grew up nearly 200 miles away in Leeds, so it’s not like we crossed paths when we were much younger. But there are lots of years between when we were kids and now and that’s what is worrying me, that and her choice of words, that perhaps we knew one another in another life, because I did very much used to live another life, one worlds away from the one I’m living now, and I’ve not only worked really hard to put it behind me, but I’ve done everything in my power to keep this lot – the village locals, who will get their pitchforks out for next to nothing – from finding out about it.
I wonder if Lisa knew me back then, if our paths crossed, or if she maybe saw me somewhere at some point – somewhere I probably shouldn’t have been. Whatever the explanation, if she did know me back in the day, I need to do whatever it takes to keep her from remembering.
The last thing I need is for my new friends – or Rowan, for that matter – to be introduced to the old Nicole. Here’s hoping my secret is still safe. For now…
3
As I wake up, my body instinctively stretches out in my bed. Slowly, I begin to open my eyes, allowing them to adjust to the light, my senses not quite awake yet. But something feels off, and then my legs collide with someone else’s, and as I squint through my tired eyes, I realise that I am not alone in my bed.
I panic, obviously not expecting anyone else to be under the covers with me, as my body deliberates: fight or flight? My heart beats so fast it feels like it might burst – so does my face, as I realise I’m holding my breath. But then, as I allow myself a moment to focus, I realise it’s just Rowan and I settle down – but not quite all the way.
‘Rowan,’ I say, practically gasping for air, semi-relieved to see that it’s him. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
‘Shh, relax,’ Rowan insists. ‘It’s Mother’s Day, the boys wanted to bring you breakfast in bed.’
‘What?’ I reply in disbelief. ‘So, what, you get in bed with me while I’m sleeping?’
‘They wanted to wake you up with breakfast, and I don’t want them catching wind of the fact we no longer sleep in the samebed. It makes sense that I’m in here,’ he explains. ‘Come on, Nicole, you’re lucky they even want to do this.’
Wow, in one sentence he’s managed to make me feel guilty about two things. Firstly, the fact that we no longer share a bedroom and, secondly, that I am not really Archie and Ned’s mum.
‘You could have woken me up, without getting in bed with me,’ I point out.
‘Ah, come on, Nicole, let them have their moment,’ Rowan insists. ‘Don’t let how you’re currently feeling about me ruin this for them.’
He uses the word ‘currently’ as though my feelings are likely to change but I really, really can’t see that happening. He’s well and truly done it this time.
Archie and Ned shuffle into the room, their faces beaming with pride, and I can’t help but smile. Archie carries a tray with a cold-looking cup of tea on it (not that I want to see an eight-year-old navigating boiling water), which he balances with so much careful concentration it almost looks as though he is more likely to spill it. Meanwhile, Ned hands me a bowl containing what appears to be a combination of several different cereals – a mishmash including bran flakes and Coco Pops, which I can’t imagine going all that well together, although adding anything to bran flakes has to improve them, surely?
As I look at the breakfast they’ve prepared, I bite my lip, trying not to laugh. It’s a cold cup of tea and a bowl of congealed cereals but they’ve clearly put thought and effort into it, and their happy expressions are too adorable to disappoint. Plus, I know they’re only young – and I’m not even sure how well they remember their mum, given that Ned wasn’t even one when she passed away – but days like today must be hard for them. I’ll eat every bite.
‘Wow, thank you, boys,’ I say with genuine gratitude as I pick up a spoon and take a cautious mouthful.
The varying tastes and textures mean that there is a lot going on in each bite. Sometimes it works, sometimes it really doesn’t. I think it’s when I catch something like a Weetabix with a Honey Monster Puff and a sprinkling of Coco Pops that it’s a bit of an overload.
I take a big swig of tea to clear my palate.
Archie, even at the age of eight, looks like a miniature version of Rowan. He has inherited Rowan’s dark, tousled hair, and his eyes mirror Rowan’s, with that almost cold shade of blue. He has his dad’s adventurous spirit too, as well as his boundless energy for all activities – anything outdoorsy. He’s already so sporty, and I know Rowan is keen to get him into playing several sports more seriously as he gets older.
Ned, on the other hand, is the baby of the family at five years old. He has that classic blonde baby hair that frames his cute, rounded face. His eyes are bright and expressive, and he’s interested in absolutely everything, so he’s always picking things up, asking questions, and being read to might just be his favourite thing.
