18

Kieran had popped out to get a late-night curry. Lizzie lay in a hot bath drinking white wine. Combined with the painkillers, it was helping her to feel much better. She got out, dried herself, sat on the loo with a towel round her. Something occurred to her. She put her hand between her legs. When there was nothing she searched higher inside herself. She washed her hand under the tap, slipped on a T-shirt and pants, went to the bedroom.

The front door was opening.

‘Stand by for the best aloo gobi in west London!’ Kieran shouted.

‘Great!’ Lizzie shouted back. But her phone was in her hand and she was looking at her diary. Three days late. It was probably nothing to worry about. After the last twenty-four hours, it would have been surprising if her period hadn’t been delayed.

The flat was filling with the scent of curry. She went to join Kieran. He was putting the aluminium containers on the table. It was a feast: biryani rice, cauliflower, prawns, spinach, poppadums, paratha.

‘You’ve got so much!’ she said with determined enthusiasm.

He was getting the wine out of the fridge and poured himself a glass. He took a gulp.

‘We’re celebrating.’

‘What’s to celebrate?’

He refilled her glass and handed it to her. ‘It’s about a year since we met.’

‘About a year?’

‘I’m rubbish at dates,’ he said, and Lizzie thought of her calendar and the discreet little P that came up regular as clockwork once every twenty-eight days. Was he rubbish at those dates too? He was holding his glass out to her. ‘Cheers then.’

‘Cheers.’

They started eating. The food was good but Lizzie was distracted. She rested her hands on the table.

‘Your daughter,’ she said. ‘You’ve taken her picture down.’

He smiled. ‘Because I thought it might upset you.’

‘But it doesn’t upset me. It upsets me that you’ve taken it down.’

He got up slowly and took the frame out of a drawer. He hung it on the wall and sat back down. He smiled resolutely. ‘Happy now?’

She glanced at the picture of the little girl dancing and then looked quickly away. She hated herself for making him put it up.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Thank you. That’s better.’