Page 106 of People Skills

‘Not at all,’ I say, resisting the urge to tell her some terrible story about my own family to make her feel better. I have learned from experience that she is not especially interested in these stories and also doesn’t actually like her family being compared to others.

‘And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Graham,’ she says.

‘Well, that’s none of my business.’

‘I don’t know what I’m thinking. I can’t explain it. It’s a magnetic thing, an animalistic thing. It’s pheromones. It’s—’

‘I get it,’ I say because I’m scared of how much more she’s going to say and I do get it, more than she’ll ever know.

‘We always had a great sex-life.’

I make a noncommittal noise at this, desperately trying to think of a topic to divert her, because she’s leaning forward, eager to offload.

‘We fell into bed last weekend, after fighting—fighting always got us riled up, I either wanted to hit him or screw him, you know—and then we saw each other a few times during the week, and now he seems to think it’s back on. He thinks we’re getting back together. I mean, for god’s sake. We’re sleeping together, we’re having a bit of fun. That’s it. What is going through that man’s head? And telling the children. I cannot believe he did that.’

‘Have you rebooked with your therapist?’ I say.

‘God no, I’m not telling her about this. Oh, she’d have a field day.’

I pause, uncertain of what to ask next, but Hillary is clearly waiting for me to ask something.

‘So, you don’t want to get back with him?’ I ask.

‘Absolutely not.’

‘And there’s nothing he could do that would convince you otherwise?’

‘No. Everything he does reminds me of why we shouldn’t be together.’ She shakes her head.

‘Right.’ I wonder if I should find a way to casually relay this to Graham. No. I’m not getting involved. Let them figure it out.

‘Anyway,’ Hillary ploughs on. ‘How’s Xavier? Did he talk to Lana? Did she stay the night?’

‘They talked, then she went home.’ Now I wish I could bring the conversation back to Graham.

‘And what do you think? Is he open to her, to getting back together?’

‘Um. I really couldn’t say at this stage.’ My voice sounds strange. Lying to Hillary is something I do often, but there are levels to the lies. ‘Yes I have it under control’ isn’t so much a lie as a future projection. But this is making me sweat. It’s making my stomach roil.

‘He’s such a closed book. Getting anything out of that boy is impossible. What about his body language?’

‘His body language?’ I chew a fingernail.

‘After she left. What did he do?’

‘He, um, you know, he went to bed.’ I am trying so hard to sound nonchalant, my voice is practically breaking under the strain of it.

‘Why didn’t she stay? I can’t understand it. At dinner things were looking so positive. What happened?’

‘I really don’t know,’ I say weakly, looking at my screen and trying to rearrange my face so that it looks like I’ve just received an extremely important, engrossing email.

‘You’ve got quite a bit of time in lieu,’ she says to me. ‘You shouldn’t be working on a Sunday.’

‘I know,’ I say, and then impulsively I add, ‘I was hoping to take a day off this week, actually. I know we’re busy, but I’m across everything and—’

‘Yes, take a day!’ Hillary says. ‘Take two. I promise I can survive without you for forty-eight hours. Sort of,’ she adds and laughs.

‘Okay great, thank you,’ I say. ‘Maybe tomorrow and Tuesday? I’m going to visit my parents.’