Ten minutes later, just as the sun was starting to go down, Anna was out on the street, a box of sticky dessert in her hand, heading for home. She passed a film crew, a cordoned off street, and scanned the faces for anyone she recognised. The first time this had happened, she’d stopped and watched for an hour or more, fascinated. But she’d soon learned it was something you got used to in this city. Waiting in the subway station, she saw a rat darting across the platform and shuddered, picturing the tiny mice she’d sometimes glimpsed on the tracks of the Underground in London. And then she spotted her boss, David. He was alone, hands clasped behind his back, one foot tapping the floor. He must have felt her eyes on him because he looked up then, and put up a hand in a small wave. Anna wasn’t sure what to do. Should she go over? Would he come to her? Would they both stay where they were and carry on as if they hadn’t seenone another? Before she could make a decision, it was taken out of her hands. He was walking over.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Having a good evening?’
It was awkward, almost embarrassing, a little like seeing a teacher out of school as a child. She wasn’t really sure why. Perhaps because she had never seen him out of the context of the office, had never socialised with him or run into him in a park or in a shop. She realised that he hadn’t really existed, for her, outside that space they both worked in. He was a caricature, almost. The absurdly handsome manager. God, those lips.
Anna said something about drinks and dinner, wondered briefly whether he knew that she and Sarah were… whatever they were.
‘You?’ she asked.
‘Nothing special,’ he said.
She realised that he was drunk and wasn’t sure why she hadn’t noticed it before. Was it just because she’d been so thrown by seeing him at all? He was unsteady on his feet, rocking back and forth.
‘Listen, Anna, do you want to get a drink?’
16
YES
Thursday 5 June 2008
Anna remembered it was their anniversary the moment she woke up. She had a card, written and waiting in her bedside drawer. They’d stopped giving each other presents at some point. She couldn’t quite remember when. They still did birthdays and Christmases but they’d stopped buying presents for their anniversary and Valentine’s. She didn’t mind. She liked to mark the day with a card, though, because she thought it was important to look back over the years and assess. They’d been married for nine years, together for about thirteen. It was something, she felt. It meant something.
She went into the bathroom for a shower before Edward was awake, and when she emerged, the boys were fighting in her bed and Edward was shouting at them to go and get dressed.
‘Morning,’ she said, and Edward looked over at her, and she tried to guess whether he’d remembered or not.
‘Mummy,’ Sam said.
‘Yes, baby?’
‘You look beautiful.’
Anna laughed. She was wrapped in a towel, her hair dripping onto her shoulders, unbrushed. ‘Thank you, my angel,’ she said, leaning over the bed and kissing him on the top of his head.
‘Happy anniversary,’ Edward said, just as she’d started to believe he wouldn’t.
When she turned her attention to him, he was holding out a thick white envelope. The card inside was simple, elegant. Two hearts, a plain white background. Inside, he’d written:
Thank you for everything, Anna. For loving me, for our boys, for our lives together. There’s nothing else I want.
She felt close to tears, and he saw that when she looked at him and mouthed a thank you, and he got out of bed and put his arms around her, his warm body against her damp, towel-covered one. How long had it been since they’d held one another like this? There never seemed to be time, to just be still, and to comfort each other with their bodies. Anna resolved to start going to bed earlier, to start making more of an effort. There was always so much to be done, swimming badges to be sewn onto uniforms, shopping lists to be made, clean clothes to be folded and put away. But this, this closeness, it was important too.
Half an hour later, they were all dressed and Edward had gone, saying he would pick up breakfast on his way into the office. Anna and the boys were sitting at the table, eating Rice Krispies.
‘When is it too?’ Sam asked.
Anna looked at him. So often, he had questions she didn’t understand. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I know when it’s Monday and Tuesday but when is it too?’
Anna was at a loss. She looked at Thomas. Sometimes he understood his brother in a way that she couldn’t. He shrugged his shoulders, and Anna could see that he was close to laughing.
If he laughed, Sam would cry. Anna knew this from bitter experience. He needed to feel taken seriously, listened to.
‘Can you try to explain it a bit more?’ Anna asked.
Sam burst into song. ‘Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday too.’ He paused. ‘We sing it at nursery. Is there a day called too?’
