God. I give him a small smile and then look back at the painting again and try to think. My instinct is a big fat ‘no, of course not; there’s a reason that we split up’. But I don’t feel that my instincts have served me well recently. I should try to analyse this.
Dev would never hurt me the way Callum did, because hecan’t. Because I do love him, of course I do – you never stop completely loving someone you used to love if there’s no good reason to stop, and in our case when he asked me to marryhim I just felt as though I shouldn’t because it was like I needed something more – something indefinable – and that’s why we split up – but I don’t love him in the same stupid, self-destructive, all-in way I love Callum. I know that because when we split up, the biggest thing that upset me about our big conversation was that I thought Dev was right when he very politely and kindly said could he just mention that he worried I didn’t seize the day enough. And the reason I thought that he was right was that I’ve had an underlying worry through the whole of the past twelve years about that very same thing because of Callum.
I keep on staring at the lilies.
Maybe what this road trip has done is prove to me that I need to grow up. Stop with the hankering over what can never be. I want kids. I know that Dev wants kids. We’re nice to each other. He’s never hurt me and never would because he’s a generous, kind, considerate, lovely man. Maybe this trip has taught me that I need to be pragmatic. I could have a lovely life with Dev.
Seize the day.
That’s what I was doing when I set off on this trip so spontaneously.
Maybe, when you grow up, you have to learn that there are different kinds of seizing the day.
I think about the painting in front of me. Great painters have to seize the day, follow their passion, do what’s right for them.
There’s a lesson there.
I’ve come to a snap decision, I realise.
I turn to Dev.
17
CALLUM
It’s the Sunday after I got back from France, and I’m standing with Thea in a beautiful old church in a chocolate-box-perfect Cotswold village, about to take part in the christening of my soon-to-be god-daughter Rose, Azim’s baby girl. Azim’s wife, Becca, grew up in this village, and wanted to have the christening here so that her elderly grandparents could come, so most of us have come here from London, and a few from other parts of the country.
I’m extremely honoured to have been asked to be godfather to Rose, and I’m grateful to be here in the Cotswolds. It feels such a world away from Italy and France that it’s almost easy to pretend that my trip with Emma never happened, or that it was a very long time ago, so overall I’m feeling a little better than I was.
‘Hugely relieved that you could make it,’ Azim tells me. ‘We were having nightmares about having to postpone it. You wouldn’t believe how chocka this church’s christening schedule is. When’s Emma getting here?’
‘Emma?’ I query, confused. Is he talking aboutEmmaEmma? He must be. But why? Why would he think that I would bring her? Or that she would be coming at all?
‘Emma Milligan. Emma who you have just driven across Europe with.’
‘She’s coming?’ I ask. ‘To the christening?’
Damn.Damn. I should have thought of this. Azim is after all the person who put me in touch with Emma for the lift.
Azim doesn’t have a chance to reply, because, as he’s about to speak, Becca screams, ‘Ems,’ in a particularly piercing voice, thrusts Rose into Azim’s arms, and sprints (as fast as someone can in a very tight knee-length dress and skyscraper-high heels) down the church path to launch herself into a huge hug with… Emma.
EmmaEmma.
For the second time in under two weeks, I’m standing staring in her direction with no ability to think anything other thanwhat the actual…
I feel as though fate’s having a laugh at my expense right now. A nasty laugh. Or Azim is.
‘How did you two get on?’ Azim asks me. ‘Becca and I thought you might… you know.’ He does an exaggerated nudge and wink as my jaw hits the ground.
I’m pretty sure that he’s just effectively told me that he and Becca tried to set me and Emma up. Owing to my mind being too stunned to work properly, I can’t work out the implications of that, but my gut tells me that it really can’t be good, given that she’shere. I kind of want to discuss what he said with Emma, and dissect it with her, but of course I can’t do that, because Emma and I aren’t going to see each other ever again.
Except, here we are. Here Emma is.
She’s now standing in front of me, her mouth in an O shape, staring at me just as much as I’m staring at her.
All of a sudden, I’m incredibly tired. I can’t think beyond the very basic. In this case, the basics are that Emma has very nice shiny orangey lipstick on her O-shaped mouth, and she must be wearing heels as high as Becca’s because her head’s higher than usual. Oh yes, and she’shere. That’s the biggest basic.
‘So Emma, you obviously know Callum,’ Azim interrupts my thoughts. He indicates the other two godparents, who he introduced me to a few minutes ago. ‘This is my friend Rob and I think you know Izzy, don’t you?’
