It was astonishing to Joss that winning a prize could make such a difference to the kind of reading you were asked to do. For years she’d been going to back rooms in libraries or chilly church halls, and sometimes to schools, trying to enthuse audiences of twenty people at most, but more often groups of six or eight. Now here she was, in a proper small theatre with what seemed like crowds sitting in rows in front of her. The Madrigal Prize was the draw. Everyone was curious to see who had won, and whether she’d deserved it. Increasingly Joss felt that she probably hadn’t. She’d written nothing for months: not since her last meeting with Gray. She felt as though there were words, thousands of them, banked up behind a wall, but whenever she tried to hammer her way through to reach them, her brain seized up entirely. Her head felt as though it were full of sand.
She’d not said a word to anyone about this occasion. There was enough to worry about without having her family there in force to see her so exposed. She’d accepted the offer of a hotel room from the organizers and already she was wishing she could be there, watching television by herself, enjoying the toiletries and the fluffy white towels in a bathroom that was luxurious mainly because it wasn’t in her own house.
Now her mouth was suddenly dry and she took a sip of the water the organizers had provided. For the last few days, she’d been working out what she was going to read, fretting that anyone who’d already bought The Shipwreck Café would come away disappointed. She’d found some early poems and, of course, Russell Blythe was on the platform with her and he’d amuse everyone. Then, perhaps, they wouldn’t notice her shortcomings.
She’d opted to go first. The chairperson, a plump, jolly woman called Mona, who wore Edna Everage glasses, was doing the introduction. Saying nice things about the collection, the Madrigal, about her. Joss couldn’t see the audience because the spotlight was shining on to the stage. Was she sweating? Would her voice work? She thought of Gray and pretended he was there, sitting in the audience. He’d given her a piece of advice once, when she’d confessed how nervous she became, faced with strangers waiting for her to speak. ‘Find a spot at the back of the hall and pretend I’m there. Talk to me.’
Joss stood up and smiled. That was another trick. You had to look as though you were enjoying yourself, even if you felt like dying of embarrassment. She opened her mouth, and for the next fifteen minutes lost all sense of everything except the words on the page; getting them out coherently; addressing the spot at the back of the theatre where the imaginary Gray was sitting. The next thing she was aware of was applause. She sank back into her chair, relieved and suddenly exhausted.
After the reading, the house lights went on and Joss and Russell took their places behind the table. Astonishingly, quite a few people were clutching books, waiting to have them signed. She bent her head and wrote her name in each copy that was put in front of her. After a while, Joss realized that the words Lydia Quentin had become meaningless to her and she had to concentrate hard to remember that that was what she had to write, over and over again.
‘Lydia?’
‘Gray … ’ It couldn’t be! What was he doing here? What could she say? Her heart lurched and thumped and she felt hot and cold, and had no idea what she might do next. Should she get up and run away? No, how would that look to Russell and Mona?
‘I was wondering if you had time for a coffee? It’s been so long … ’
‘Well … ’ No. She didn’t want coffee. She wanted to be somewhere else altogether. Somewhere far away. ‘Okay. Just a quick one.’
‘There’s a café just opposite. We could go there.’
‘I … I’ll be finished in a moment. I’ll come over and find you.’
‘Right.’
She watched him leave the auditorium. I don’t have to go, she thought. I could slip out of the back and disappear. She stood up and said to the others: ‘I’m going now, if that’s all right. I’ve promised to have coffee with … an old friend. You remember Graham Ashton, don’t you, Russell? From our course in September?’
‘Of course. I was going to tell you he was here. Quite forgot. I had a drink with him before we came in … nice chap.’
She went through the goodbyes and thank-yous and promises to keep in touch and congratulations on selling so many books, and felt as though she were watching herself from somewhere near the ceiling. Most of her attention was on Gray. She’d forgotten what his physical self was like. She’d made him into a sort of benevolent ghost, a visitor to her imagination and her dreams, but there he had been, in front of her, his hands on the table. His smile. Had she imagined it or had she really smelt him? No, that was impossible. He’d been too far away. All she knew was that her feelings for him hadn’t grown weaker with the passage of time. She’d been telling herself she was over him. She’d almost convinced herself that forgetting about him was an option and now here they were again. She sighed and left the theatre. The road in front of the café felt like a dangerous border she was crossing.
He was sitting at a table near the back. As she approached, he stood up.
‘Hello,’ he said, clearly not knowing what to do: should he hug her, shake her hand? In the end, he said, ‘I expect you’re hungry. I’ll go and get us some food. What would you like?’
‘Anything. Really. You choose. A panini sandwich or something … and coffee.’
She watched as he chose the food from the display on the counter and brought it over to their table. Then he put the tray back on the stack, and came to sit down again. He said, ‘Lydia, before I say anything else, I just want you to know how sorry I am about the wedding being cancelled. I know Zannah was set on the occasion, and even though she’s the one who broke it off, I really do sympathise with how she must be feeling.’
‘How’s Adrian taking it? Is he okay?’
‘He’s sore, but he’ll be all right, I’m sure. Maureen’s going to Barbados with him on the honeymoon tickets.’
‘That’s a good idea. But you’re out of date, Gray. The wedding’s going ahead as planned.’
‘Really? That’s impossible, surely?’
‘Cal’s asked Zannah to marry him again. It’s like something in a movie.’
‘Did Adrian know about that when they split up?’
Joss smiled. As long as they were talking about Zannah and Adrian she was okay. She wouldn’t say anything wrong. ‘No, he didn’t. I think she must have told him now, though. She had no idea that was in Cal’s mind when she and Adrian broke up. None at all. She’d simply decided she didn’t love Adrian enough to marry him. I reckon it was brave of her to admit she’d made a mistake.’
‘That’s not how Maureen sees it. She feels Adrian’s had a lucky escape from a girl – and a family – who were nowhere near good enough for him. Her words not mine.’
Joss looked down at her plate in embarrassment. ‘I know she must feel terrible. I did too, when Zannah first told me. I … I had nothing against Adrian, Gray, but I can’t pretend I’m not pleased that she and Cal are getting back together. I’m sorry.’
‘No need to be.’
Silence fell between them. What should she say now? Would he speak first? He took a sip of his coffee. He said, ‘I’ve rehearsed a meeting like this a thousand times. I didn’t think it’d ever happen.’
‘I didn’t either.’
‘Maureen and I are divorcing, Lydia. I told her in March that I wanted to leave her. Shortly after Zannah called off the wedding.’
The red and white squares on the tablecloth swam in front of Joss’s eyes. She felt slightly nauseous. ‘What reason did you give?’
‘I told her I didn’t want to live with her any longer.’
‘Did you tell her about me?’
‘Yes. But I said we hadn’t seen one another for months. She didn’t … doesn’t believe me. She thinks … Well, you can imagine.’
‘I don’t know what to say, Gray. Those pictures at Christmas … the ones she sent Adrian on the camera phone … they upset me.’
‘I’m sorry. Part of me wanted you to be upset. I wanted you to be feeling as bad as I was … ’
‘You and Maureen looked so happy together, like a holiday brochure.’
‘I was … never mind. It wasn’t like that, I swear. Every day was endless. I haven’t stopped thinking about you. I’ve left home. I’ve got a job in London. This is where I’m living now.’ He pushed a piece of paper across the table. ‘I’ve written down my new address and phone number for you. It’s in Muswell Hill … a lovely apartment. Everything’s changed, Lydia.’
She knew what he expected her to say. He wanted her to follow his example. Ask Bob for a divorce. Leave home. Start a life with him. She folded the paper in half without looking at it, and put it into her handbag. Then she said, ‘Zannah and Cal’s wedding is less than a month away. I promised my daughters, Gray. I promised Bob, too, but that’s … Well, I can’t. I can’t start it all again. I’m sorry.’
He leaned forward and glared at her. Joss flinched. ‘Let me get this quite right, so that I make sure I’m not twisting what you say. You’re not going to leave your husband. Is that right? Even though I’ve left Maureen?’
Joss nodded. She knew no words would convey what she wanted to say, so she kept quiet. Gray was white with fury. ‘I can’t believe this. You’re trotting out the whole fucking promises thing all over again. Haven’t you had enough time to think better of that crap? This is just a rerun of what you said in November. I cannot believe you’re going to throw away what we have again … I just can’t believe it.’
‘Nothing’s changed, Gray. I’m still bound. You know I am.’
‘What I know is that you’re selfish and cowardly. I’ve broken up my marriage and my career and you’re not prepared to do anything. Nothing at all. Oh, no, your cosy little life has to go on exactly as it always has and I’ve just been an inconvenience that tripped you up for a bit but which you’ve now got sorted out to your satisfaction.’ He stood up suddenly. ‘D’you want to know something, Lydia? I’ve just this second realized and, okay, I’m a bit slow on the uptake, but it’s clear to me now. You don’t love me. You’re absolutely okay without me. I saw you at the reading. You were completely self-possessed. Perfectly poised. You weren’t tormented or upset in any way that I could see and that’s the bottom line. I can tell you’re fine without me because you’re not prepared to give up one single thing. You’re not going to try to bend even one of those completely pathetic principles of yours. Not for me. Okay. Goodbye. That’s it. There’s only so much shit I’m prepared to take. Stay and finish your sandwich. I’m going.’ He flung a ten-pound note on to the table and rushed out of the café.
Joss sat there after he’d gone, paralysed. All the time he’d been talking, she’d wanted to interrupt him and explain, tell him why, beg him to wait just a little longer, but he’d given her no chance. How could he have misunderstood her so completely? Has she really seemed composed? Happy? I’m not, she wanted to shout. Really, I’m not. She could text him. She could phone him and say it was all a huge mistake and of course she’d leave Bob and come to him. She’d been mad, stupid, ridiculous. She loved him. She took her mobile out of her bag and stared at it, blinking back the tears. What would I say? she asked herself. The wedding … I can’t tell Zannah all this now. Not after what she’s been through with Adrian. And Bob … if I couldn’t leave him before, what’s changed? Nothing, except that Gray’s even more furious than he was in November. He’s left Maureen. Joss knew he’d expected her to fall into his arms and she hadn’t. She couldn’t, not yet. Would she ever be ready? She had no idea. She felt as though the scab on a wound that had been healing quite well had suddenly been torn off. She was bleeding and in pain all over again.