It feels strange to be cooking steaks for a man, any man, in One Folgate Street. Edward could never have let me—he’d have to have taken charge, tied on an apron, found the right pans and oils and implements, all the while explaining the different way steaks are cooked in Tuscany or Tokyo. Simon, though, is content just to watch me and chat—about the housing market, where to look for cheap flats, the place he’s currently renting. “One of the best things about leaving this house was not having to worry about those stupid rules any more,” he says as I automatically wipe the pan and put it away before we eat. “After a while, you can’t believe you ever lived like this.”
“Hmm,” I say. I know I’ll soon be surrounded by all the clutter of babyhood, but a part of me will always miss the austere, disciplined beauty of One Folgate Street.
I take a few sips of wine, but find I’ve lost the taste for it. “How’s your pregnancy going?” he asks, and I find myself telling him about the Down syndrome scare, which in turn leads to explaining about Isabel, and then I start crying and can’t finish my steak. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly when I’ve finished. “You’ve had a horrible time.”
I shrug and wipe my eyes. “Everyone has problems, don’t they? It’s the hormones, they make me weep at anything right now.”
“I wanted a family with Emma.” He’s silent for a moment. “I was going to propose to her. I’ve never told anyone that. Funny, it was moving here that made me decide—being settled at last. I knew she’d been going through a difficult patch but I put that down to the burglary.”
“Why didn’t you? Propose, I mean?”
“Oh…” He shrugs. “I wanted to do the most amazing proposal ever. Like those virals where the man gets a flash mob to sing the girl’s favorite song, or spells out Will you marry me in fireworks or something. I was just trying to come up with an idea, something that would really blow her away. And then out of the blue, she ended it.”
Personally I’ve always found those videos of over-the-top proposals a bit weird, even creepy, but I decide now isn’t the time to say so. “You’ll find someone else, Simon. I know you will.”
“Will I?” He gives me a significant look. “It’s quite rare I meet someone I feel I’ve made a real connection with, actually.”
I decide this has to be said. “Simon…I hope you don’t think this is presumptuous of me, but since we’re talking so openly, I just want to make something clear. I like you, but I’m definitely not looking for a relationship at the moment. I have enough on my plate.”
“Of course,” he says quickly. “I never thought…But we’re in a good place, right? As friends.”
“Yes.” I smile at him to show I appreciate his tact.
“Although you’ll probably change your mind about being in a relationship if Edward Monkford snaps his fingers at you,” he adds.
I frown. “I really won’t.”
“Only joking. In fact, there is a girl I’ve been seeing a bit of. She lives in Paris. I’m thinking of moving over there so I can see more of her.”
The conversation passes on to other things, pleasant and easy. I’ve missed this, I think: this niceness, this civilized give-and-take, so different from Edward’s dominating presence.
Later, he says, “Would you like me to stay tonight, Jane? On the sofa, obviously. But if it would make you feel safer…”
“That’s kind. But we’ll be fine.” I pat my belly. “Me and my bump.”
“Sure. Another time, perhaps.”