‘Exactly,’ I say, equally jollily.
‘You look like you’re moving well on that ankle now.’
‘Yep, fully better, thanks.’
‘Great news. Hopefully this will be a foot-injury-free day for you.’ He slightly winces as he finishes speaking, as though he’d thought he was going to make a joke but it didn’t come out funny.
‘Hopefully,’ I agree.
Then we look at each other. It’ll be weird if we don’t get a cab together. It will also be twice as expensive for both of us. But… is either of us going to suggest sharing? I know already that I’m not going to because Tom is the one who effectively stopped our text conversation and I’m not going to risk further humiliation by setting myself up to be turned down now.
‘Share a cab?’ He says it a few seconds too late, like he doesn’t want to but knows he has to.
I spend too many seconds trying to think of an answer, and eventually come up with the only possible one. ‘Good idea.’
‘Great, then.’ He’s still jolly.
‘Yes!’ So am I. ‘Looking forward to the party!’
I’m just wondering whether to pull a sickie or tell him I can’t actually talk to him when I hear Bea hollering down the platform.
‘Nadia. Tom. Taxi?’
Thank fuck for that. I want to be alone with Tom even less than I thought I did.
‘Perfect,’ Tom and I call as one, and then, still as one, and without looking at each other (well, more accurately, I’m trying not to look at him but I do sneak a glance out of the corner of my eye and see him not looking at me while also slightly looking at me) we begin to walk along the platform to meet Bea and Ruth.
‘You’re both looking very well,’ Ruth tells us.
‘So are you.’ Tom and I are still speaking as one.
We all share hugs (well, Tom and I each hug both Bea and Ruth; we do not hug each other) and then we set off towards where it says exit.
Soon, we’re in a taxi together, with Tom in the front next to the driver, and me in the middle of the back squished between Bea and Ruth.
‘This is lovely, isn’t it,’ Ruth says. ‘It’s so nice to see each other again.’
‘And it’s wonderful that Carole’s throwing this party,’ Bea says. ‘You have to be positive about the future rather than having bitterness or regrets about the past.’
‘Exactly,’ Ruth agrees. ‘Your past is just a journey to where you are now, and the future is yours to mould and we all have to let go of previous disappointments and view them as development.’
Ilovethe way they’re such acouplein the way they speak, like they’re taking it in turns to express the same thought. Even if that thought is a little irritating in the very specific circumstance of me and Tom right now. Because Idoregret that evening and that moment where, if I’m honest, I was sending out the biggest kiss-me-now signals in the entire history of signalling. And Iamdisappointed that it’s clear that Tom has no interest in me and I am also embarrassed and I am also quite sad that after we had so much fun together being fake partners we’ve got to the point where we politely go fake jolly about even a small thing like sharing a taxi.
‘Yes. Andalso,’ Bea says, ‘I’mreallylooking forward to the party.’
We all chuckle a little bit and then somehow, with Bea and Ruth there, helped by the fact that we can’t see each other’s faces, I think, Tom and I join in the gentle chat.
The taxi gets slightly lost (Bea instructs the driver very strictly on where he should have gone and then Ruth asks very gently whether he was trying to stitch us up and overcharge us – he blatantly was – and he apologises and says that his dad always taught him to do that with rich-looking out-of-towners, and Ruth, still very gently, tells him that that’s appalling and he should stop, and he practically bursts into tears) and the journey takes a good half hour.
By the time we pull up at the pub, it’s feeling (from my side anyway) surprisingly normal with Tom.
Once we’re out of the car, we all exclaim how beautiful the building is. It’s very ancient-looking, stone-built, with a huge timber door, and is surrounded by trees and shrubs.
Inside, it’s a warren of little rooms (already decorated for this evening), beautiful oak floors and stone steps, cosy seating round huge fireplaces, lots of nooks and crannies, your basic dream country pub.
The four of us are all staying upstairs overnight.
Two people escort us up the stairs, which rise from the middle of the ground floor. At the top, a man directs Bea and Ruth left, telling them that their room is at the far end, and a woman indicates that Tom and I should follow her to the right.
