That weekend, Nancy and Felix did the sort of things that they always did, that couples were meant to do. The alarm was set an hour later than on weekdays. When it went off, Felix went out and bought some pastries. Nancy found a melon and a mango in the fridge. She sliced them up and arranged the result on a plate. They sat for an hour, drinking coffee and reading crossword clues and quiz questions to each other from their phones.
While Nancy washed up the plates and mugs, Felix packed a small bag with trainers and shorts and a bright yellow shirt. He was meeting friends for a five-a-side game.
‘What are you going to do?’ he said to Nancy.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I thought I might go for a walk.’
‘Are you meeting anyone?’
‘No.’
‘Will you be okay?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know what I mean. It was when you were out, walking on your own, that you had your little episode. Will you be safe out there?’
The phrase ‘little episode’ made Nancy angry. It sounded like some girly quirk. But she didn’t say anything.
‘I’ll be fine,’ she said with a studied calmness. ‘But thank you for asking.’
‘You can come along with me to the football, if you like.’
She laughed. ‘What? Just to watch?’
He flushed slightly.
‘It’s not so stupid. Other people bring their girlfriends.’
‘I’ll see you later, Felix.’
She walked down to the park. It was a cold day, threatening rain, but there were people walking dogs, parents with children. She spent a long time sitting on a wooden bench, looking at other people’s lives, thoughts drifting through her mind.
When she returned to the house, she found a young man at the front door, his finger repeatedly jabbing at one of the buzzers. He turned as Nancy approached.
‘I’m looking for Kira,’ he said.
‘Kira?’
‘She’s not answering her phone.’
He had a broad, open face and brown eyes like the eyes of a spaniel.
‘She’s not there,’ said Nancy, delaying the truth. ‘Are you a friend?’
‘Well, kind of. I’m Ollie. We had a—’ He stopped. ‘Anyway, I’ve been away and now I can’t get hold of her. Do you know when she’ll be back?’
‘She won’t be back.’
‘She’s moved out?’
‘No.’ Nancy took a deep breath. ‘She’s dead.’
She watched his face. At first, nothing changed, then the colour drained from his cheeks.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m sorry. She died last Sunday.’
‘But I don’t understand. It’s not possible. She was fine when I saw her. Fine,’ he repeated. ‘We were going to meet when I came back.’
‘When did you see her?’
‘Friday.’
‘And she was all right?’
‘She was—’ Ollie stopped, shook his head from side to side as if to clear it. ‘I don’t believe it,’ he said.
‘I’m sorry,’ Nancy repeated.
‘How did she die? Did she get run over or something? Did some bastard drive into her? Was that it?’
‘They say,’ said Nancy slowly, ‘that she took her own life.’
‘What?’
‘It’s what the police think.’
‘That’s stupid. Kira wasn’t like that.’
‘What was she like?’
‘Happy,’ he said. ‘She was always smiling. I used to see her in the bar where she worked and she was full of life.’
‘Tell the police,’ said Nancy. ‘Go and see them and tell them you don’t believe Kira took her own life.’
‘What?’
‘Don’t say you met me though.’
‘Sorry?’
‘If you mention me, they won’t believe you.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Just say you know that she was happy, and it makes no sense, but leave me out of it.’
But Ollie was backing away from her with a perplexed expression on his face. Then he turned his back and walked away. Nancy gazed after him, but Kira wasn’t her problem anymore.
That evening they ordered a takeaway and watched the first couple of episodes of a Spanish TV series that a friend of Felix’s had recommended. While they were watching, Felix drank most of a bottle of wine. Nancy wasn’t really supposed to drink, because of her medication, but she poured herself a glass and ignored his questioning look.
‘What do you think?’ said Felix, when the second episode finished.
‘It’s all right.’
‘It’s a bit of a commitment. I think there’s four series of it. Maybe five. That would be like…’ He considered for a moment. ‘About two days of our life.’
‘We can try something else,’ said Nancy, knowing that they wouldn’t try something else. She looked at the time. ‘I might go to Frankie’s party now.’
‘It’s nearly half past eleven, and it’s the other side of London.’
‘So?’
‘I don’t think you’re up to it. Not yet.’
‘That’s for me to decide. I want to see my friends.’
‘Your druggy friends.’
‘You mean fun friends, cheerful friends,’ she said. ‘People who are important to me.’
‘Nancy,’ Felix said. ‘What if I ask you, just this once, to stay home with me and have a nice evening? You’re on new medication, things have been weird, and I don’t think it’s wise.’
Nancy was about to tell him not to ask. But she didn’t. One party, one Saturday evening, didn’t matter.
She was on the brink of telling Felix that it was over, finished, but held back the words. She needed to do it properly, not late on Saturday night in the middle of a disagreement.
On Sunday, they went down to Tate Modern and Nancy lost herself for two hours of blessed silence, just her and the painting in front of her. Afterwards, they walked along the river and had lunch at one of the little bistros on the South Bank. As she ate her bowl of pasta, she felt a moment of regret. Could things have been different? Isn’t this what a good relationship was meant to be like? But then Felix looked around and interrupted her thoughts.
‘Look,’ he said.
‘Look at what?’
‘Look at all the waiters. Look at the cooks behind the counter. And the person at the front desk and there must be people we don’t see in the background washing the dishes. Can you imagine the finance and the organisation it takes to run a place like this? And they’ve got all the benefits of scale. There must be about fifty branches of this restaurant, all over the country, all with the same menus, all ordering the same products in bulk. Even so, it must be a struggle.’
Nancy’s regret vanished.
‘Is this about me?’ she said wearily.
They finished eating mainly in silence. They travelled home on the bus mainly in silence, Felix looking at his phone, Nancy staring out of the window. She could feel the words in her mouth: it’s over. She could see the look on his face. She felt like a murderer.
At home, they both pottered around, seeming to find it difficult to settle on anything. In the evening, they had a meal of scrambled eggs and some leftovers from the fridge.
‘Do you want to watch anything?’ Felix asked.
The pressure inside her felt intolerable, as if she must explode. She took a deep calming breath. Why was this so hard? She knew it had to be done.
‘Maybe we can talk,’ she said.
‘Sure.’
Then a message pinged onto his mobile. He glanced at it and turned away from her to answer.
‘Felix.’
‘Sorry. This won’t take too long.’
She waited and he tapped away.
‘I’ve got a bit of a headache,’ she said at last. ‘Maybe I’ll go to bed.’
Felix turned to give her a sharp, inquisitive look.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Sometimes a headache is just a headache.’
‘But it’s been a good day, hasn’t it? And a good weekend?’
It felt like Felix was talking about the end of something.
‘Yes,’ said Nancy. ‘Peaceful.’
When Felix came to bed, Nancy was still awake, but she pretended to be asleep. She lay for a long time in the darkness with him tranquilly at her side, unsuspecting. Tomorrow afternoon, when he came back from work, she would tell him it was over. She should have done it long ago. His goodness and love had bound her to him, but she needed to be free.