I raise my eyes to him, smile. “We did.” I’m grateful this is ending well, civilly.
“Listen, do me a favor, will you?” he says. “Cancel your gym membership. Find another gym.”
“Oh. OK.”
“I don’t really want to see you ever again, if that’s all right.”
Oh, wow. So much for civil. I nod. “Sure, OK.” I don’t like to point out I get free gym membership at work now, thanks to one of our donors, and only went to George’s gym to be near him because he worked so much that I hardly ever saw him otherwise. But his parting shot stings nonetheless.
“Bye, Hannah,” he says, picking up his Christmas present. He mumbles an awkward-sounding, “Thanks for the present,” fumbles for the door latch and leaves.
As I move to close the front door, the ice-cold December air penetrates the entrance hall and I step out onto the path to watch his retreating figure as he turns and leaves without a backward glance.
I stare up into the cold night sky. I can feel the chill wrapping around my legs. The clouds have parted and thousands of miles above me stars are twinkling brightly, the light traveling so far until it reaches me.
By the time I look back to the end of the street, George has already gone.
—
“You never lethimin?” Miranda explodes at my own reasoning as to why George and I have finished, when she and Paul come over for fake Christmas. Hosting this was the very last thing I needed, and also the very best. “He never letyouin! Did you ever see his flat? In nearly a year?”
“No. George said he didn’t like it, didn’t like his flatmates, my place was nicer.”
“Do you even know where he lives?”
“About ten minutes from here.”
“Ten minutes by car, on foot? What road?” Miranda pushes.
I rub my forehead. I’ve had a stress headache for a solid twenty-four hours and this isn’t helping. “I’m sure he told me. I can’t remember.”
“And he met your parents. Did you ever meet his?”
“No. But I was going to.”
“Why, in almost a year, has it taken until now for that to get planned?”
I try to think. “There wasn’t a reason. It just never happened. Timing and work and…” This is a lame excuse that I was fed by George and so I drop it.
Paul chimes in. “He’s done you a favor, getting in first. He’s an idiot. An annoyingly good-looking idiot who, by all accounts, gave you some decent sex, but he’s gone. And without too much of a fight, by the sound of it. George being gone is a good thing for you,” Paul says.
I give him a well-earned smile and nod in agreement. It is a good thing for me. I know this.
Miranda dusts her hands together as if to say, “Case closed.”
“Yeah, I’m not exactly crying. I’m OK. Really. I just need to go home, see Mum and Dad and, you know…Ugh!” I rub my hand over my forehead. I know that now is the time to tell my best friend the reason why George and I have finished. But how do I say it? I can’t. It hurts too much to keep thinking about it. And Iknow I really am going to cry if I talk about Davey. So I’m not going to. I’m not going to tell them I saw Davey. In the spirit of self-preservation, I’m simply not going to.
“Yeah,” Miranda says. “Good. Perfect, in fact. So no sad pep talks needed then?”
“No sad pep talks needed.”
“Thank God.” She pulls out a bundle of presents for me from a huge Selfridges shopping bag. “Can we do Christmas presents now then?”
Chapter 35
January
I’m standing insludge. The thick winter snow is melting beneath my boots, which are now even more battered than ever and stained with the wet marks of melting snow. I hand the plate of biscuits over the fence to Joan and she looks at it appreciatively as she zips up her winter coat. I note she’s tucking into the biscuits with even more aplomb than usual, now she’s not got a wedding dress to fit into. One friend is out of the wedding woods, while Miranda is skipping merrily toward hers. I should probably feel a bit left out of all the bridal shenanigans, but I’m actually deeply thankful that I’m young, free, and single.
