Текст книги "Second Life"

Автор книги: S. J. Watson

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

‘You’re the last person I’d have thought would have been bothered about that!’

I realize what he means. ‘No, I’m not talking about him being gay.’ I could cope with that, I think. That would be easy, compared to this, at least. ‘I mean, do we even know this Evie is the person Connor thinks she is. She might be older, a bloke, anything.’

I realize I’m closer than I thought to telling him. It’d be easy, now. I could just say it. I think I know who it is. I think it’s this guy. I’m sorry, Hugh, but …

‘Well …’ He draws breath. ‘I’ve spoken to her …’

A mixture of emotions hits at once. Relief, first, that Connor is safe, but also annoyance. Hugh has been allowed into a part of our son’s life to which I’ve been denied access.

‘What? When?’

‘I can’t remember. She called. The night you went out with Adrienne, I think. She wanted to speak to Connor.’

‘And …?’

‘And what you’re asking is if she’s a girl? Yes. She is.’

‘How old?’

‘I don’t know! I didn’t ask. She sounds about – I don’t know – seventeen?’

‘What did she say?’

He laughs. He tries to sound flippant. He’s trying to reassure me. ‘She said she’d tried his mobile, it was just ringing out, he must have it on silent or something. She asked if he was there. I said yes, we were halfway through a game of chess—’

‘I bet he loved that …’

‘What d’you mean?’

I shrug. I don’t want Hugh to know that none of Connor’s friends knows he plays chess with his father. ‘Carry on. What happened?’

‘Nothing. I gave the phone to him, he took it into his room.’

I’m angry, yet relieved.

‘You should’ve told me.’

‘You’ve been very distracted,’ he replies. ‘There never seems to be a moment to talk. Anyway, he’s growing up. It’s really important that we allow him his privacy. He’s had a really tough time. We should be proud of him, and we must tell him that.’

I say nothing. Silence hangs between us, sticky and viscous, yet familiar and not altogether uncomfortable.

‘Julia. What’s wrong?’

If only I could say. Life is spiralling. I see danger everywhere, I’m paranoid, hysterical.

I don’t speak. A single tear forms.

‘Julia?’

‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘Nothing. I …’

I let the sentence disappear. Again I wish I could tell him, but how can I? All this has happened because I tried to take more than I was owed. More than I deserved. I had my second chance, my second life, and it wasn’t enough. I wanted more.

And now, if I tell my husband, I’ll lose my son.

I go upstairs. There’s a message on my phone, one that I suppose I’ve been expecting.

It’s from Lukas. My heart leaps, though now my response is Pavlovian, meaningless, and as soon as it forms it disappears and turns to terror.

You’ve won, I think. Okay, you’ve won.

I want to delete it unread, but I can’t. I’m compelled, driven. I marvel at Lukas’s timing, almost as if he knows exactly when I’m most vulnerable. I wonder if Connor’s somehow back on Facebook already, broadcasting to the world.

I click on the message.

There’s a map. ‘Meet me here.’ It’s just like the old days, except this time the message continues.

‘Noon. Tomorrow.’

I hate him, yet I look at the map. It’s Vauxhall, a place I don’t know well.

I type quickly.

– No, I say. Not there. Forget it.

I wait, then a message appears.

– Yes.

I feel hate, nothing but hate. It’s the first time my feelings for him have been wholly, unambiguously, negative. Far from giving me strength, for the briefest of moments it saddens me.

A moment later an image appears. Me, on my hands and knees, in front of him.

Bastard, I think. I delete it.

– What d’you want from me?

– Meet me tomorrow, he replies. And you’ll find out.

There’s a pause, and then:

– Oh, and surely you don’t need me to tell you to come alone?

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I don’t sleep. Morning comes, my family eats breakfast. I claim a headache and more or less leave Hugh to make sure Connor gets ready for school. I feel nothing. I’m numb with fear. Unable to think of anything other than what I have to do today.

I take the tube. I’m thinking back to Lukas’s last message. Who would I bring, anyway? Does he think I know someone who could be trusted with this? Anna still isn’t answering my calls, and even if I felt I could confide in Adrienne, she’s away until next week. I realize again how grief has overwhelmed me, has taken everything, and in its place there’s nothing but emptiness. And so I’m here, facing Lukas, alone.

I emerge from the tube station into the clear light of a sunny day. There are people everywhere, on their way to lunch, pushing prams, smoking on office steps and outside the station. Ahead of me there are blocks of flats, silver and glistening after a misting of rain, and beyond them the river. I follow the map on my phone and walk through a tunnel, lit with neon, as trains roll overhead, and emerge to traffic and more noise. There are alleyways, graffiti, refuse bins everywhere, but the area has a strange beauty. It’s rough, it has edges. It’s real. In different circumstances I would have wished I’d remembered my camera; as it is, I couldn’t care less.

I check my phone again. I’m here, more or less, the corner of Kennington Lane and Goding Street. The Royal Vauxhall Tavern stands alone; beyond it is a park. I wonder if that’s where Lukas intends us to go. I tell myself I’ll refuse, if so. It’s too dangerous.

I light a cigarette, my third of the day. I guess this means I’ve started smoking again. I inhale. Hold. Exhale. Its rhythms calm me, even in these desperate circumstances; I can’t believe how much I’ve missed it. I look at my watch.

I’m late. He’s even later, I think, but then I feel his gaze burning into me and I know. He’s here, out of sight, watching me.

Suddenly I see him approach. He’s in front of me, wearing a blue parka jacket. He’s walking slowly, his head up. I’m aware my hands are shaking. Instinctively I put my hand in my pocket, feel for my phone, just as I’ve been practising. By the time he’s level with me I’m ready, composed. For a long moment we stare at each other, then he speaks.

‘Hello, Julia.’ He glances at what I’m wearing: jeans, a sweater, my Converse trainers. I tell myself not to react. I mustn’t let him make me angry. I’m here to find out exactly what he wants, to make him stop.

I notice the red mark on his cheek. I open my mouth to speak when he lunges for me. He grabs my arm, I yelp.

‘What the—?’ I begin, but he silences me. His grip is strong, and then he kisses me on the cheek. It’s rough, unpleasant, yet brief. Even so, every part of my body reacts powerfully, reflexively. I pull away.

‘For old time’s sake. Come on.’

He tries to direct me down Goding Street, towards the arches under the railway. A street of bike shops and storerooms, the shuttered rear entrances of the bars and clubs of the Albert Embankment. I resist. ‘What’s down there?’ I say, my voice high and anxious. ‘Where are you taking me?’

‘Somewhere quiet,’ he says.

I have visions of being found, my neck broken, bleeding, gutted like one of Hugh’s patients. I have to remind myself again that he didn’t kill Kate, that I mustn’t let him see my fear. Whatever else he did, he didn’t do that. I repeat it like a mantra.

I shake my arm free. I could run, I think. Into the pub, though its shuttered windows suggest it might not be open.

‘Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.’

‘Just stay away from me.’ I’m shaking with fear, my voice is unsteady. ‘We can talk here—’

‘You want me to stay away from you?’ He looks incredulous. ‘I want you to stay away from me, and from Anna.’ I begin to protest, but he continues. ‘You’re the one who’s messaging me non-stop, who’s ringing me up day and fucking night, over and over. I had to change my fucking number, just to get rid of you.’

I stare at him. We’re both totally still, as if locked in stalemate, then I speak. ‘No,’ I say. ‘No.’

‘So, you’re the one who won’t leave me alone.’ He points to his cheek. ‘I mean, look at this. Crazy. You’re crazy.’

The wound has healed, more or less. It’s superficial. Soon it won’t be visible at all.

‘You did that.’

He laughs. ‘Are you mad? I brought the knife down with me to protect myself, not so that I could stab myself! I didn’t know you were going to lose it and try to grab it out of my hand …’

‘No. No, no …’ I take a step back. I remind myself why I’m here. To protect Connor. ‘You’re stalking my son!’

‘What?’

‘The bowling alley. He told me.’

He laughs. ‘You’re crazier than I thought! So keep away from me, okay? Or else—’

‘Or else what?’

‘Haven’t you worked it out yet? I can do anything. Anything at all … Hugh? Anna? I can destroy them both. Unless there’s a way you could make it worth my while not to …’

‘You’re wrong.’ I try to keep my voice steady. I want it to have a strength I don’t feel. I want him to think I’m telling the truth. ‘You think I care, but I don’t. Hugh and I are only staying together because of Connor. I’ve already told him all about you. He understands. So,’ – I shrug – ‘what you’re trying won’t work. Show those photos to anyone you like …’

‘Anyone?’

I nod.

‘Really?’

‘Yes.’

‘How about Connor?’

I try not to recoil, but I can’t help it. He sees it.

‘Connor’s grounded. You won’t get near him again. Coincidentally or not.’

‘Oh, don’t worry. Me and Connor? We have history now. We’re virtually friends.’

I feel a chill. What does he mean? Is there something else, something I don’t know about? Again the fear comes, that he’s got something to do with Evie. I have to remind myself that Hugh’s spoken to her, in real life. He’s heard her voice. It can’t be Lukas. I have to remember that.

‘You don’t scare me.’

‘Don’t you get it? You and me? It was fun while it lasted. But now I just want what’s owed to me. You have to back off. I’m having my fun with someone else. You have to get it into your stupid head that it’s over.’

I’m shocked. ‘Anna? Anna? You make her sound like an object, but you asked her to marry you!’

‘There are lots of different types of games, you know …’

He’s a few feet away, a little further than arm’s length. It might not be close enough. I step towards him. I raise my voice.

‘What’re you doing with Anna? Really? I know you’re using her. You don’t love her, like you didn’t love me.’

He’s smiling. It’s an answer in itself, but I want to hear him say it.

‘What are you doing with her? I know this is about the money, my sister’s money, but why involve her?’

He leans in. ‘How else was I going to get close to you?’

I remember why I’ve come here.

‘You don’t love her? You’ve never loved her?’

I’m careful to phrase it as a question. It takes him only a moment to reply.

‘Me? Love Anna? Look, we have a nice little arrangement going on, but I don’t love her. The sex is great, that’s all. And you know what? I like to think of you as we do it.’

I take a deep breath. There, I think. I have it. I almost smile. It’s my turn to feel smug now.

‘Oh, by the way, don’t even think about contacting Anna again.’

I can’t help but reply: ‘You can’t stop me.’

‘How so?’ He hesitates, he’s enjoying this. ‘Oh,’ he says. ‘You think you’re having lunch with her tomorrow?’ His smile is chilling. ‘I guess she hasn’t told you? She’s changed her ticket. Some family emergency, I think. Or something at work? I can’t quite remember. Maybe it’s just that she thinks you’re absolutely crazy and wants to get as far away as possible. In any case, you won’t be seeing her tomorrow. In fact, I reckon she’ll be leaving the hotel,’ – he looks at his watch – ‘around about … now.’

My eyes narrow. I have to make him think he’s beaten me.

‘What?’

‘You heard me. Anna thinks you’re crazy. She’s on her way back home, and I’m joining her in a few days. So why don’t you just toddle off home? Go back to your husband and be a good little wife for him? Eh?’

I don’t react. I can’t. I don’t want him to see how scared I am. I haven’t won, not yet. Not until I can speak to Anna. I have to make him think I’m going to do exactly as he says. Go back home.

I shake my head. ‘Fuck you,’ I say, and turn away from him.

His gaze burns into me as I retrace my steps. I don’t run, I have to look unconcerned. I daren’t turn round, I don’t want him to know how much I hope he’s not following. Everything depends on him leaving me alone, just for a couple of hours. Everything depends on me getting to Anna before she boards her train. I turn the corner and am out of sight. Then, I run.

I head through the bus station, on to the main road. I look behind me, but he’s nowhere in sight. Why would he hang around? He’s won. A taxi pulls up, at the lights. It’s available and I hail it. ‘St Pancras,’ I say, then get in.

‘Okay, love,’ says the driver. She must sense my urgency. ‘Traffic’s bad today. What time’s your train?’

I tell her I don’t know, I’m meeting someone. ‘Please hurry,’ I say again. The lights change and she pulls away. She says she’ll do her best. I take my phone out of my pocket, where it’d been the whole time, the voice memo recorder already running, and press done. I’d hit record as soon as we met. With any luck I’ve recorded our entire conversation.

I look over my shoulder. Lukas is still nowhere to be seen.

We’re in luck. Our route through Lambeth is pretty clear, the lights are in our favour. I listen back to what I’ve managed to capture. It’s muffled, recorded as it was from the pocket of my jacket, while the two of us were moving around. Some of it is okay – in places my voice is loud but it’s Lukas’s reply I need and it’s barely registered on the recording – but a good deal of it is usable. I can hear him saying ‘For old time’s sake’ after he kissed me, and he’d also raised his voice to say, ‘You’re crazier than I thought.’ But that’s not good enough. It isn’t what I’m looking for. I fast forward, desperate to find a section that is incontrovertible proof of what I need Anna to know; that he’s not who he says he is, that she’s in danger and that we need to help each other.

It’s there. The part I’d hoped for. Luckily, I’d stepped towards him, he’d been close; plus, my plan to raise my voice in the hope that it would encourage him to raise his had worked.

I rewind. Play it again. At first it’s broken: ‘… using her … love her …’ but then there’s a gap and the next sentence is clear. ‘I know this is about the money, my sister’s money, but why involve her?’

Lukas’s answer is clear, too.

‘How else was I going to get close to you?’

Then it’s me. I must’ve shifted on my feet as I spoke; the first part of the sentence is lost as something rubs against the microphone of my phone’s recorder. I recognize my own voice, but what I’m saying is all but lost. Only one word is audible: ‘her’.

It shouldn’t matter, though. I know it’s his response I need next; I remember what he’d said, but the whole recording is meaningless unless it’s audible.

Luckily, his answer is perfectly clear. I play it twice, just to be sure.

‘Me?’ he’s saying. ‘… Look, we have a nice little arrangement going on, but I don’t love her.’

I close my eyes, as if in victory, then rewind and listen to it a third time. It should be enough to convince my friend, I think. I just need to get there in time now.

I freeze. It occurs to me, as if for the first time. I don’t have to do this. I could just leave it, just walk away, go home. Lukas has demanded I leave them alone, so why not?

I think of his hands on me. I think of the places he’s taken me. Can I abandon my sister’s best friend to that? What kind of person would that make me?

From nowhere I think back to Anna’s reading, at the funeral. ‘To the angry I was cheated, but to the happy I am at peace.’

She thinks she’s happy, but it won’t last. I can’t abandon her now and live with myself, knowing I’ve betrayed her. I can’t.

I glance at the time and shift forward in my seat. It’s just after one o’clock. The traffic is bad, but we’re moving; already we’re over the river and skirting the city. If only I knew what time her train was, I think, then I’d be able to work out whether I have time, or no chance at all.

I look on my phone, navigate to the Eurostar webpage, to the timetable. It’s grindingly slow – I need to press refresh two, three times – but it makes me feel like I’m doing something, at least. Eventually the page appears. There’s a train just after two, and she’ll be checking in at least half an hour before it.

I look up. We’ve got as far as Lambeth North. It’s a twenty-minute trip, I’d guess, then we’ll have to find somewhere to pull in. I’ll need to pay the driver, then I have to find my friend. I’m desperate, yet helpless. I will the traffic to move, the lights to change. I curse as we get stuck behind a cyclist, as someone steps out on to a pedestrian crossing and we have to brake.

I’m not sure we’re going to make it, plus Lukas may ring her and tell her I’m on my way. It’s hopeless.

It’s almost one thirty when we pull up outside the terminal; I’m numb, certain I’ll have missed her. I pass my fare over to the driver – far too much, but I tell her to keep the change – and then I start to run. She shouts, ‘Good luck, love!’ but I don’t answer, don’t even turn round. I’m already frantically looking for Anna. I run in, towards the gates to the terminal, past the coffee shops and ticket offices, remembering as I do the times I’d met Lukas here. The images assault me, in Technicolor. I think of the second time we’d met, just after he’d lied to me and told me he lived near London after all. Back when I felt almost nothing for him, by comparison to what came later, at least. Back when it would’ve been easy, relatively, to walk away. Back when I was worried he had a wife, when really he was about to ask someone else to marry him.

Not just someone, I think. Anna. And now, I realize with increasing panic, I’m here rushing to try to save her.

The station is crowded; I can’t see her. I stop running. ‘Find Friends,’ I think she’d called it. We’d linked our profiles. I scrabble for my phone, drop it, pick it up again. I open the map, but there’s only one dot. Mine.

She’s disconnected her profile from mine. She hates me. I’m about to despair. She’ll go back home; all is lost. I could try to call her, yes, but she probably won’t answer the phone, and even if she does how will I make her believe me? I need to be there, in front of her. I need to make her understand.

I see a flash of red in the crowds, and somehow I know it’s her coat. When the crowd clears I see I’m right. She’s at the gate itself, pulling her case behind her with one hand, with the other already fumbling her ticket over the automatic scanner. ‘Anna!’ I shout, but she can’t hear me and doesn’t respond. I start running again. My words are lost in gasped breath, caught up in the noisy chaos of the station, rising and echoing in the vault of the ceiling. I shout again, louder this time – ‘Anna! Wait!’ – but by the time she looks up and sees me I’m too late; the automatic gates have registered her ticket, swung open and she’s gone through.

‘Julia!’ she says, turning back to face me. ‘What’re you …?’

I stop running. We’re on either side of the gates, a few feet apart. There’s a security booth just beyond her, and beyond that the waiting rooms and restaurants of the international terminal. ‘I met Lukas.’ She looks momentarily confused, then I remember myself. ‘I mean, Ryan. I saw Ryan.’

She looks at me, her head tilted, her mouth turned down. It’s pity. She feels sorry for me. Again I’m reminded that Lukas has won.

‘I know. He called me.’

‘They’re the same person, Anna. I swear. Ryan is Lukas. He’s been lying to you.’

She seems to well up. Something she’s so far been holding in check erupts to the surface.

‘I thought you were my friend.’

‘I am.’ But then my mind goes to the scar on Lukas’s cheek, just beginning to crust. I can only imagine what he’s said to her.

‘Whatever Ryan’s told you, he’s lying.’ I look her in the eye. ‘Believe me …’

She shakes her head. ‘Bye, Julia.’ She turns to leave.

I grip the barrier. For a second I think I could jump it, or push through, but already we’re attracting attention. A staff member is watching us, he’s stepping forward, as if he expects trouble.

I call instead. ‘Anna! Come back. Just for a minute. Let me explain!’

She looks over her shoulder. ‘Goodbye, Julia.’ She begins to walk away.

‘No!’ I say. ‘Wait!’

The guy in the uniform is standing right by us, now looking from one to the other. Anna doesn’t turn round.

I cast about for a way to convince her. I’m desperate. I need something that proves I know him as Lukas, have slept with him. Then I remember.

‘He has a birthmark. On his leg. His thigh. His upper thigh.’

At first I don’t think she’s heard me, but then she stops walking. She turns, then slowly comes back towards the barrier that separates us.

‘A birthmark.’ I point to my own body. ‘Just here.’

At first she says nothing. She shakes her head. She looks hurt, devastated. ‘You … bitch.’

The last word is hissed. Of course she hates me, and I hate myself for having to do this to her.

‘Anna! … I’m sorry …’

She’s standing just on the other side of the barrier now. If either of us were to reach over we could touch each other, yet she is utterly unreachable, as if the barrier between us were impenetrable.

We both remain utterly still, just staring. A moment later a voice cuts in with a jolt.

‘Is there some kind of a problem here?’

I look over. It’s the guard. He’s standing just beyond Anna. We both shake our head. ‘No. It’s fine.’ Dimly, I’m aware that I’m blocking the barrier, a queue is forming behind me.

‘Could you move along, please?’ He sounds so calm; his politeness clashes with what’s going on.

I put my hand out, palm up, as if offering something. ‘Anna, please.’ She looks at it as if it’s an unknown object, dangerous, alien. ‘Anna?’

‘Why are you doing this?’ She’s crying now, tears pouring down her cheeks. ‘I thought we were friends …’

‘We were.’ I’m desperate, insistent. ‘We still are.’ I wish I could make her understand, let her know I’m doing this because I do love her, not because I don’t. I get out my phone. ‘He’s not the person you think he is. Ryan, I mean. Believe me.’

‘You have everything. From the moment I told you we were engaged you haven’t been able to even pretend to be happy for me. I feel sorry for you. D’you know that?’

‘No—’ I begin, but she interrupts me.

‘I’ve had enough.’ She turns to go, and I try to grip her arm. The guy watching us steps forward; again he asks us to move along.

‘Give me a second, will you? Please?’

I have to make Anna understand, before she gets on the train and disappears back to Paris and everything is lost. Otherwise she’ll marry this man and ruin her life. It hits me that, even if I succeed, Lukas will carry out his threat, send Hugh the pictures. Whatever happens I might lose everything.

I feel myself slip back into the blackness, but I know I can’t. This is my last chance to do the right thing.

‘Wait a minute. I need you to hear something.’ The rest of the station disappears; I can think of nothing else. It’s just me and her. My words come out in a rush. ‘He’s … I know him as Lukas … he’s the one I met through the website you told me about … he … he’s … he’s got to Connor. He’s been following him … following me, too … he’s flipped, I swear …’

‘Liar.’ Over and over again she says it. ‘You’re a liar. A liar.’

‘I can prove it.’ I hold my phone in front of me. ‘Just listen to this. Please. And then—’

‘Miss. I’m going to have to ask you to move out of the way. Now.’

He steps between us. My desperation turns to anger; the world comes back in a furious rush. The station seems noisy and I don’t know whether Anna will be able to hear my recording. A small crowd has now gathered, on both sides of the barrier, staring at us. A man has taken his phone out and is taking pictures.

‘Please! This is important.’ I’m fumbling with my phone, unlocking the screen, opening the file. ‘Please, Anna? For Kate?’

She stares. It’s calm, suddenly, and then the guard asks me again to move away. This is my last chance.

‘Just give her this. Please?’

‘Miss—’ he begins, but Anna interrupts him. She’s holding out her hand.

‘I’ll listen. I don’t know what you want, but I’ll listen.’

I hand the phone to the man standing between us, and he passes it to Anna.

‘Press play. Please?’ She hesitates, then does so. She stands, her head craned forward. The section I’d selected is ready. My voice, his voice. Just as it’d been in the taxi. She’s too far away and I can’t hear what she’s listening to, but I know it by heart: ‘… a nice little arrangement … I don’t love her.’ She plays enough, just a few moments, then it ends. She crumples. It’s as if all the tension of the last few minutes has caused her to snap.

‘I’m sorry.’

She looks at me. She’s crushed. She seems diminished, empty. All emotion is squeezed out. I wish I could reach out, comfort her. I can’t bear the thought of doing this to her and then sending her on her way. Back home. Alone.

Then she speaks.

‘I don’t believe you. It doesn’t even sound like him. Ryan’s right.’

I see the doubt on her face. She’s not sure.

‘Listen again. Listen—’

‘It’s not him.’ Her voice falters, broken. ‘It can’t be.’

Her free hand goes to my phone, though. She presses the play button, tries to turn up the volume.

‘Love Anna? … I don’t love her.’

‘Anna. Please …’ There’s a hand on my arm, someone tugging at the sleeve of my jacket, trying to drag me away.

‘Anna?’

She looks up at me, then. The expression on her face is chilling, her eyes wide with disbelief and pure horror. It’s as if I’m watching all of her plans evaporate, taking flight like nervous birds, leaving nothing behind.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘We need to talk.’ It’s so quiet I can barely hear her. The crowd around us senses the breaking tension and begins to move, to go back to their day. The bubble of drama that had formed in front of them has burst. Anna turns to the official standing between us and says, ‘Can you let me back through? Please? I need to talk to my friend …’

Time seems to speed up. The world has been on pause, held in the thrall of her fury, and my desperation. But now it’s all been released; it crashes in. The noise of the station, the bustle and chatter, the old piano that’s been installed on the concourse and which somebody is playing badly, the same phrase, again and again. I take her arm and she doesn’t resist; together we go, up the escalator, supporting each other. We’re silent. I suggest a coffee, but she shakes her head, says she needs a drink. I need one, too, I tell myself I could, just this once, but I force the thought away. Anna is crying, her voice cracks as she tries to speak. She fumbles for a tissue and we go upstairs to the bar. I feel wretched, my guilt is almost overwhelming. All I can think is, I’ve done this. This is my fault.

We sit under the umbrellas. Behind me the door leads to the hotel, to the room in which Lukas and I first had sex. Memories of our affair are everywhere, and I look away, trying to ignore them. Anna is murmuring something about her train. ‘I’m going to miss it,’ she says, stating the obvious. ‘I want to go home.’

I hand her a tissue. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll help. You can stay with me, or—’

‘No. Why would I want to do that?’

She looks angry. It’s as if things are finally coalescing for her, the hurt she feels condensing, becoming easier to comprehend. I want to do something, make some small gesture, however meaningless.

‘Then I’ll pay for you to go on the next train. But Anna, you have to let me explain. I didn’t want any of this to happen …’

‘I can pay for my own ticket.’ She’s defiant, but then she looks down at her lap. I imagine she wonders how she could ever have got herself into this situation, how she could have let herself trust Ryan. And also how she could have ever trusted me. The waiter comes over and I order some water and a glass of white wine. He asks which we want, whether we’d like to see the list. ‘Anything. Just the house white is fine …’

Anna looks up once he’s moved away. ‘Why?’

‘I don’t know. Believe me. I never knew … I didn’t know that that man, Lukas was seeing you. If I had, I’d never have dreamt—’

‘You mean he didn’t tell you? He didn’t tell you he was engaged? To me?’

‘No.’ I’m emphatic. ‘Of course not.’ I want to make her understand; right now it’s all that seems to matter.

‘And you didn’t think to ask?’

‘Anna, no. I didn’t. He was wearing a wedding ring—’

She interrupts me, shocked.

‘A ring?’

‘Yes. He told me he’d been married, once, but that his wife had died. That was it. I thought he was single. I didn’t … I wouldn’t have seen him if I’d known he was involved with someone else. Least of all you …’

Even as I say it I wonder if it’s true. Am I kidding myself? My relationship with Lukas had developed incrementally, had started off with my search for the truth, developed into chatting online, and from there had turned into what it became. Even if he had been married, or engaged, at what point would I have stopped it, said, no, this far but no further? At what point should I have done that?

There’s a point when an online dalliance might become dangerous, but who can really say when it is?

‘I swear.’

‘And I’m supposed to believe that?’

I feel a flicker of anger, of injured pride, but her face is impassive.

‘He pursued me, Anna. You might not want to hear that, and I’m sorry, but you need to know. He came after me.’

She blinks. ‘You’re lying. He wouldn’t.’

Her words are a slap. They sting. Why not? I want to say. Why wouldn’t he? I’m aware again of the way he’d made me feel. Young, desirable. Alive.

‘Because of my age?’

She sighs. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘I didn’t mean that. I just meant …’ The sentence dissolves, her head sags to her chest. She looks exhausted. ‘I don’t know what to think.’

‘Anna—’

She raises her head. She looks defeated, she’s searching for help, for somewhere to turn. ‘Tell me what happened. I want it all.’

And so I do. I tell everything, in great detail. She’s silent as I talk. Five minutes. Ten. The waiter comes with the glass of wine and my water, but I push my drink away and keep talking. There are things she’s heard before, and things she hasn’t, yet this is the first time she’s known the story is not about me and a stranger but about me and her fiancé. I find it hard enough; for her the pain must be unbearable. Every time I ask her if she’d like me to stop she shakes her head. She says she needs to hear it. I tell her about Lukas’s first approach. I tell her that we’d started to message regularly, that I thought he lived abroad, in Milan, that he told me he travelled a lot. I explained that he’d asked me to go and meet him, in real life, and because I’d thought it could only happen once and might lead me to the truth about my sister I’d done so.