Stephen winced in sympathy. ‘Would you like some coffee?’
‘That would be great, thanks.’
While he was pouring her a cup, she tightened the belt on her dressing gown and wandered across the room. On the mantel by the fireplace were framed photographs. One from Stephen’s brother Nick’s wedding, one of a woman, sitting in a deckchair with a dripping ice-cream cone, laughing, another of a family of four, which included the same woman – younger – and a man, alongside two boys. One a blond toddler, the other older and dark-haired.
‘That’s my mum, and her husband – Nick’s dad – with me and Nick,’ Stephen said, coming up behind her. Lila jumped and looked around, a flush crawling up on her cheeks, feeling as though she’d been caught out being nosy. ‘He died when I was ten.’
‘I’m sorry. You’ve experienced a lot of big losses.’
Stephen gave a rueful smile and handed her a mug of white coffee. ‘I was lucky to have had them in the first place though. I’m sorry you didn’t have any real family around you growing up, other than your mother.’
Lila shrugged and then tightened her fingers around her mug when the contents almost spilled. The carpet in here was really pale – that would be so like her to come in and wreck his perfect-looking life with a big dirty stain. When she looked up Stephen’s head was cocked, and he was frowning slightly.
‘Are you okay? I couldn’t help but hear you on the phone in the night—’
‘Oh God, I’m sorry – I tried to keep my voice down.’
‘It’s fine. I couldn’t hear what you were saying but…you look like you’ve been crying. Is there anything I can do?’
‘No. You’re doing more than enough and it’s all over—’ Her voice hitched and she swallowed. ‘It’s over now.’
‘You broke up with your boyfriend?’ he asked gently.
She just nodded.
‘D’you want to sit out on the balcony with these?’
She nodded again and he led her outside onto a large balcony, overlooking the green in the centre of the wide road with its beautiful old buildings. It was a little like being in one of those Regency dramas she loved, but with the sound of traffic in the distance. She took a seat on one of the metal and canvas chairs, which was surprisingly comfortable, and closed her eyes. ‘You can hear the birds singing so clearly. I wasn’t expecting that.’
‘I know. I never used to come out here. I lived here for years and never came out onto the balcony.’
‘Why not?’
‘Fear of heights.’
Lila looked over at Stephen’s relaxed posture, one ankle resting on the knee of his other leg as he sipped his coffee. She couldn’t imagine him being scared of anything – let alone a fear so strong he couldn’t come out on a solid first-floor balcony. ‘But you’re not scared anymore?’
‘No. I went to see someone to help with the phobia.’
‘Like, hypnotherapy?’
‘No. Cognitive behavioural therapy.’
‘Right. CBT. What…’ She hesitated a moment, not wanting to pry but he just lifted his eyebrows slightly to show his interest in what she was about to say. Hewasinterested in what she had to say – and he’d brought the subject up. Maybe hewantedto talk about it. ‘What made you want to do it? After so long?’
‘Going to New York. Meeting Noelle.’ He squinted up at the blue sky and it reminded Lila of her dad so strongly for a moment it was like déjà vu. But she couldn’t really remember much about her dad now – she already felt like she knew Stephen better. ‘Actually, I was just sick of missing out and being scared I suppose. And when Noelle and I got together, it brought it home to me. I knew she would understand if I didn’t want to go to a rooftop restaurant or on a roller coaster – butIminded. I wanted to. For me.’
Lila nodded. She understood that – utterly and completely. How many times had Rowan said that it was fine, not everyone wanted to go out socialising all the time, and that was okay – but it wasn’t okay withher. She wanted to have that choice. And as for being sick of being scared…Lila was bone-weary of it. ‘Was it…hard? To get over it?’
‘Not as hard as I thought it would be.’ Stephen uncrossed his leg and put his mug on the table, crossing his arms on top instead to face her. ‘I mean, I still have a ghost of it, I suppose. You’re not going to catch me going hang-gliding or abseiling down Canary Wharf. But, who knows; maybe that will change in time, once I’ve got used to not being scared.’
She nodded slowly. Like she’d been getting used to speaking up with Rowan, to feeling like she was a person others might want to get to know, to venturing her opinions and ideas, and how that had made her capable of coming here to London and meeting Stephen. Practice made perfect. She took a sip of coffee and thought about what she’d said to Rowan, about wanting to get better. Wanting to change. She’d already told Stephen about her social anxiety in their emails but…talking about it in person, that would be another step, wouldn’t it? ‘They suggest CBT for social anxiety too. I saw this counsellor at school who diagnosed me, and he talked about referring me, but I never got around to seeing anyone properly. It’s too expensive and…the idea of talking to a stranger about all the weird, irrational thoughts I have, is just…so hard.’
Stephen looked at her steadily. ‘Yeah, I would think that is tricky. Kind of like if I’d had to go see a CBT counsellor whose office was on a cliff edge.’
She laughed and he smiled back.
‘If you want to do it though – try the CBT – I can give you the details of who I saw in New York. Or get a recommendation for over here if you’re staying.’
