After boarding, she turns her phone to flight mode, although still no report of Tolly has hit the internet. Withher window seat, she is hemmed in by a middle-aged woman and her teenaged son, both of whom switch on the in-flight entertainment and disappear into their respective universes. Probably for the first time in her life, Anna could have done with a chatty seat companion. She knows she is too sleep-deprived to read anything that requires focus. Instead, she puts in her earbuds, starts an audiobook, and tries to become immersed in a prize-winning but turgid literary novel she has been postponing reading for a long time. It is not long before she is asleep.
She wakes a couple of times, peering round at the darkened, sound-deadened plane, but each time she settles back down once she establishes where she is. In the early hours, while the sky is still dark outside, the plane begins to descend. The cabin lights come up and a quiet rustle develops as passengers clear rubbish and stow their belongings in anticipation. The plane lands with the usual accompaniment of the wail of small babes. By the time the aircraft taxis to the airbridge, Anna has switched her phone off flight mode. While the passengers leap up to extract belongings from overhead lockers, Anna stays in her seat until she receives the first alert. There he is, Tolly, looking suave and delectable, entirely unaffected by his nighttime misadventure. Once again clean-shaven, his hair immaculate, he is posed on the red carpet, all polish and charm. His smile to the cameras makes Anna’s belly ache. There is no trace of the rugged voyager she met. And no trace her absence might be affecting him in any way. But it is enough. She knows now he is well and there are no lasting effects. Tolly will be okay.
Unlike herself. Anna exits the terminal building in search of a taxi. She stands for a moment in the cold air with wind-driven rain splattering her coat, turning her face to the weather, breathing in the damp, fuel-infused scents of Heathrow.
She is home, but the world is different.
Imitation of a Life
Anna hauls her suitcase up the last flight of steps and opens the door of her attic apartment. She is relieved to see her cleaner has been in during her absence. The place is immaculate. She drops her keys on a side table, abandons her suitcase in the middle of the living room, and goes to put the kettle on. Tea is in order. Nothing else will overcome the wet grey weather.
When she has a cup of steaming goodness in her hands and a plate of only slightly stale cookies, she settles on the sofa to send the mandatory texts announcing her safe return. She is never sure whom these comfort more – the receivers, who await news of a loved one, or the senders, who are glad to have been missed. It’s a reassurance of your importance in the world. Someone, somewhere, cares about you.
She wants to send a message to Tolly, but that would be wrong. She is the one who severed the connection. By now, he must hate her. Or maybe that is too strong. They had a connection, but it was short-lived and stunted before it could flourish. Realistically, he has probably already forgotten her existence, much as she has done so many times with so many admirers after explaining her lack of reciprocation.
In the midst of thumbs-up and heart replies, one message comes in.You back yet?James.
She hesitates. He will want to talk about Bella, and she is not sure she wants to face that can of worms. Eventually, she sighs. What do they say about eating a frog? If you have to do it, better to do it sooner.
Just now, she types back.
Coffee?James gives a location halfway between their homes. She has enough time to open her suitcase and set off the first load of washing before she sets off to meet him. Despite the miserable weather, she elects to walk. She is feeling antsy, disconnected from her life for the first time ever, and exercise can only help. Perhaps she can walk off the effects of Tolly Hyde, like you walk off a hangover. But all that happens is she arrives at the coffee shop thoroughly soaked. She disrobes carefully, trying to keep from dripping on the chairs. James waits, his eyes sunken and his bottom lip chewed. His mop of red hair is more unruly than normal.
He continues to wait, eyes on Anna as she orders at the counter. She grabs a chocolate brownie. She has a feeling she may need extra bolstering. When she returns to his table, cappuccino in hand, he nods slightly. He cannot even raise a small smile.
Anna cuts right to the chase. “Have you heard from Bella?”
He nods again. “But I’m not sure what to believe.”
Anna avoids his eyes and looks down at her cup as she scrapes the edge of the foam around the rim. She raises the spoon to her lips and licks it clean while she unpacks his statement. A relationship is in a sorry state when those words are true. Especially when it is only a week old. She wonders if James already realises this.
“What do you want from me?” she asks.
“The truth.” His eyes search hers.
She considers. She has known Bella a long time. Far longer than she has known James, and while they haven’t been in constant contact, Anna is neglectful enough of friends not to hold them to high standards of contact herself. She is also loyal, although loyalty has its bounds. But she realises with a slight shock, if she had to ask either Bella or James for help, it wouldbe James who would respond. She can guarantee it. She would trust James over and above everyone else in her life, apart from her family.
She nods. “Shoot.”
“Did you really ask her to come with you to a party?” James asks.
Anna sighs. “I did. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I did. I was nervous, I guess. I wasn’t sure why I’d been invited and I wanted a wingman.”
“And the pictures from the nightclub? Do they look worse than they were?”
Anna sips her coffee, then licks her lips. Here we go. James has asked for the truth. “I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t there. I left the party by myself. Bella had already gone. I didn’t see Bella again until Saturday, shortly before I left Los Angeles.”
“So she could be telling the truth,” James mutters. He so desperately wants to believe in a Bella who doesn’t exist. Anna can see how this may play out, how Bella gets her claws back into James, how his inevitable heartbreak is only going to get worse, the wounds getting deeper. But is it really her job to protect him? James is a grown-up, able to make his own judgements, even if they are incorrect.
She closes her eyes for a moment. Then she opens them and says, “I doubt it.”
His eyes bulge and his mouth drops open. Anna can see his thoughts cycle across his face as her words settle in. Disbelief, acceptance, sadness.
“Why did you say that?”
“Bella left the party with a scriptwriter who had already hit on me. That was after she offered me some of the ketamine she had got from somewhere.”
She lets James absorb her words. Damning words, but not fatal. Yet. James would not hold addiction against anyone. Hewould suffer faithfully by Bella’s side as he coaxed her towards treatment.
