Dan had warned Lydia that she could expect a second, very different visit from Zoe at some point following their so-called Lunch Date of Truth – ‘I think she feels pretty bad about the way she behaved,’ he’d said. All the same, when the shop bell jangled and Lydia saw the other woman coming in, she felt completely sick with nerves at whatever was about to happen. Not to mention bracing herself for the possibility of having to duck reflexively once again.
Jonathan too recognized Zoe and immediately moved to stand beside Lydia, arms folded. For someone whose natural instinct was for jollity, he could do stern pretty well, it transpired. ‘I sincerely hope this is not going to be a repeat of your last appearance,’ he said, in an impressively head-teacherish voice. ‘Because I’m not about to stand here and let you attack my staff, do you understand?’
Zoe hung her head, clutching her own hands as if needing to cling to something. She was wearing a white linen shirt and jeans with the exact same Zara leopard-print pumps that Bridget always wore. In a different life they might have been friends, Lydia thought.
‘I’ve come to apologize,’ Zoe said, looking directly at Lydia. ‘I’m really sorry.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’m not trying to make excuses, but I’ve been under a lot of stress recently. Clearly I shouldn’t have acted the way I did, though. So I’m sorry.’
She seemed genuine at least. She also seemed a lot smaller and more tired than the last time she’d turned up here. Quietly spoken. Lydia didn’t want to stare, but it looked as if she’d only put mascara on her left eyelashes and had forgotten about the right ones. Was it possible to bear a grudge against someone who couldn’t even get it together to do their make-up properly? ‘Okay,’ she said eventually.
‘I’ll pay for the vase, obviously.’ Zoe rummaged in her bag for her purse. ‘How much do I owe you?’
Lydia and Jonathan exchanged a glance. ‘Jon – could we have a minute, do you think?’ Lydia asked.
He eyeballed Zoe with a hard stare, clearly not fully trusting her. She put her hands up, still holding her purse. ‘I’m not here to cause trouble,’ she said. ‘I promise.’
‘You’d better not,’ Jonathan said severely, before turning back to Lydia. ‘Have a break, if you want. Go and get a coffee or something.’
‘Thanks, Jon,’ Lydia replied. ‘If you’re up for that?’ she asked Zoe. Her heart was thumping, wondering how this was going to go. Her instinct was that all the fight had gone from Zoe, but you never could tell.
‘Okay,’ said Zoe. She glanced back at Jonathan, looking uncertain. ‘Should I pay for the vase first or—’
‘You can buy Lydia a bloody good coffee instead,’ he replied. ‘And be nice to her, for heaven’s sake. She’s done nothing wrong.’ He jerked his head towards the door. ‘Call me if you need anything,’ he said to Lydia as she grabbed her jacket and they left.
There was a café next door to the shop, but the staff in there all knew Lydia and she couldn’t bear the thought of any of them eavesdropping on what was potentially a dynamite-packed conversation, so she suggested the Italian place at the bottom of the road that did the best latte in the postcode. She was going to need rocket fuel to get through this little chat, she guessed.
They ordered drinks and sat down, neither of them quite able to meet the other’s eye. ‘So how shall we do this?’ Zoe asked. She looked incredibly nervous, Lydia thought, drained of colour apart from some very red lipstick that she had presumably put on for courage. For her part, Lydia was only glad she had bothered to do her make-up properly herself that morning – both lashes coated in mascara, for starters – and that she was wearing her favourite olive-green jumpsuit, which had been an absolute bugger to make, but was the most flattering item in her wardrobe.
‘Um . . .’ Lydia said, thinking fast. The stakes felt dizzyingly high right now; she had to find the words to navigate her way through. ‘I guess I want you to know that I had no idea Patrick was married when he and I . . . you know. On my life, I had no clue.’
Zoe nodded. ‘Dan said as much. But thank you.’ There were such bags under her eyes, Lydia noticed. Bags that even a ton of foundation and concealer couldn’t disguise. This woman must be completely shattered, she thought, feeling a stab of sympathy for her, despite the circumstances. Because of the circumstances as well, if she was honest. She found herself wanting to be generous in defeat, to give this broken woman some kind of comfort, if possible.
‘Getting pregnant was an accident,’ she went on, ‘but Patrick was quick to choose you over me. That was made very clear to me: his loyalties definitely lay with you.’
Zoe fiddled with the salt cellar, a scornful breath puffing from her lips. ‘I’m not sure “loyalty” is really a word I could use about my husband now,’ she replied. A moment passed. ‘I’m sorry he was a shit to you,’ she added in a low voice.
There was a lump in Lydia’s throat. ‘I’m sorry he was a shit to you, too,’ she said. They looked at each other and, for the first time, the barriers of mistrust seemed to lower a fraction, replaced by what felt like a slender thread of mutual understanding. They had both been wronged by the same man, after all. They had both adored him too. Despite everything, there was some common ground to be had.
A moment passed and then Zoe cleared her throat. ‘Tell me about your daughter,’ she said.
Lydia hesitated. ‘Are you sure? It won’t be too weird for you?’
Zoe’s body language was taut, as if she were steeling herself to receive a blow, but she nodded all the same. She had guts, it was undeniable. ‘We’re going to have to do this, aren’t we?’ she said. ‘We can’t pretend that this isn’t how things are.’ Her mouth buckled a little. ‘I mean, part of me would love to pretend, obviously. I was desperate for none of this to be real, but . . .’ She broke off, pressing her lips together.
‘We’re grown-ups,’ Lydia finished for her, and her own words took her by surprise. Hadn’t she been fretting the other week that she wasn’t a proper grown-up? Maybe she was making a better fist of it than she’d thought – thinking things through, as her mum had always advised. ‘All the same,’ she added, seeing tears glimmering in Zoe’s eyes, ‘we don’t have to do this here and now if you’d rather take some time.’
Zoe shook her head. ‘Let’s rip the plaster right off,’ she said. ‘I can handle it.’
‘Well, in that case . . .’ Lydia opened her phone and showed Zoe the photo on the home screen of Jemima upside-down mid-cartwheel, hair flying everywhere, face screwed up in concentration. ‘This is Jemima. She’s seven years old, loves sport and dogs, is friendly and brave, constantly trying to find me someone to marry, even if that’s my best female friend . . .’
And so it begins, she thought, feeling nervous and a little trepidatious as she flicked through her gallery to find more photographs, and the two of them began to exchange fragments about each other’s lives. Zoe produced pictures of her children and Lydia found herself poring over them. Jemima’s brothers and sister, she marvelled, gazing at every detail of their faces. This would not be an easy road for her and Zoe to walk down, that was for sure, but at least they were both trying to make it work. Could she ask for any more at this point?
It was only as Lydia finished her coffee that she realized they’d been sitting there for forty minutes and she should probably get back to work. There was a limit to Jonathan’s generosity, particularly so close to lunchtime. ‘I should head off,’ she said, ‘but thank you for this chat. I really mean it. I know the situation isn’t great, but thanks for – well, for not hating me, I guess.’ She grimaced at her own naive positivity. For all she knew, Zoe did hate her, but had a better poker face than Lydia gave her credit for.
Zoe’s expression was certainly hard to read now. ‘You’ve got Dan to thank for that,’ she said. There was a pause. ‘Um, I’m not sure where we go from here,’ she went on. ‘What do you want out of this? Ideally?’
Lydia gulped. She had been so busy feeling sorry for Zoe that she hadn’t actually considered her own self in the matter. ‘Um . . .’
‘I don’t mean financially,’ Zoe said quickly and then it was her turn to pull a face. ‘Although I suppose we’ll have to talk about that at some point too.’ She bit her lip. ‘God, this is so strange, isn’t it? I don’t know the right thing to do. How to feel.’
‘No,’ Lydia agreed. ‘Me neither.’ She thought for a moment. ‘I can see that your children might be upset to hear about Jemima and me, whereas for Jemima, the stakes aren’t so high. She would be over the moon to have a half-sister and half-brothers, in fact. So let’s take any next steps at your pace. Whenever you’re ready.’
‘Thanks.’ Zoe’s eyes looked wet again. ‘I don’t know how I’m going to tell them,’ she confessed. ‘Mind you, saying that, Bea would love a sister too. She’s always going on about how annoying brothers are.’
They exchanged small, anxious smiles. It was a mess, but neither of them was afraid. Perhaps that was all that could be hoped for right now. ‘By the way, could you give me Dan’s address?’ Lydia asked, changing the subject. ‘I’ve got something for him. A surprise.’
Zoe hesitated a fraction – maybe she didn’t completely trust her after all – but then reeled off a street name and number. She gave Lydia an appraising look. ‘What’s the deal with you and him, anyway?’ she asked. ‘He was very nice about you over lunch yesterday, but then again we were completely pissed by that point.’
Lydia tried to keep her face neutral. He’s got the brains, I’ve got the looks, Patrick had said about Dan all those years ago, and she’d laughed coquettishly at the time. I know which I prefer, she’d replied, pressing herself against him. Funny how a bit of time and distance could change your mind about things.
‘We’re just friends,’ she said, getting to her feet. Her complicated feelings for Dan meant it was impossible to answer honestly in one single snappy sentence. She really liked him – and for a few heady moments at Jonathan’s party she had wanted very much to kiss him – but she recognized that they were both holding the other at bay, because the repercussions were potentially so difficult, so messy. Not that Zoe needed to know any of this right now, obviously. Lydia didn’t want the other woman getting the wrong idea about her either. First you have a fling with my husband, now you’re going after my brother-in-law . . . It really wasn’t like that. It wasn’t like that at all.
Walking back to the shop a few minutes later, Lydia felt light with possibilities, though. As if good things might be on the horizon. Okay, so she had told a tiny white lie to Zoe about having ‘got something’ for Dan, but she knew exactly what that thing was, it was simply a matter of organization. She pulled out her phone again, feeling fizzy with the prospect of a plan. ‘Dad? Can you do me a favour?’ she asked. ‘No, everything’s fine. I just need to borrow something and I’m hoping one of your mates can help me out . . .’