‘So, a baby?’ she asked, and then she thought that that might have been the most stupid thing she’d ever said. She gestured towards the buggy, as if he might not know which baby she meant.
‘A baby,’ he said, his face all light. ‘Ella. She’s six months.’
Anna peered into the buggy. Ella was sleeping, her arms up by the side of her face.
‘Did you get married again?’ Anna asked. And then she wasn’t sure why she’d asked it. What did it matter? Perhaps hehad, and if he had, that was fine, wasn’t it? And if not, and he’d had a baby without going through all that again, well, that was fine too.
‘Engaged,’ Edward said. ‘And you?’
‘I’m single,’ Anna said.
She felt the familiar urge to make an excuse for that, to say that she hadn’t been back from New York for long or that she was busy with work, but she resisted it. And she was proud of herself for doing so. It was okay, to be single. It was fine.
‘What’s she like, your fiancée?’ she asked.
Anna wanted to know everything. Was she one of those girls you saw on the Tube who looked up at their boyfriends adoringly through false eyelashes, or the kind of woman who went to the gym every day and lived on fresh air and smoothies, or was she someone Anna would like, that she would have as a friend?
‘She’s great. I met her through work and we just hit it off.’
Was he asking her to give up her career, or was it a given that her career was important, because she was in the same field as him? Why were all the questions she wanted to know the answers to the sort you couldn’t ask?
‘That’s great. I’m glad it worked out for you.’
‘Thanks, and…’ He broke off, looked down at his feet. ‘I’m sure it will work out for you too.’
Anna realised that he felt sorry for her, and was embarrassed. There was no easy way to show an ex you’d met on the street that you were happy enough as you were, that you were fulfilled. Pushing a buggy was like a trump card, and he’d played it.
‘It’s good to see you, Edward,’ she said, turning to walk away.
He reached out a hand, touched her wrist. ‘Do you have time for a coffee?’ he asked. He gestured in the direction of the little café in the middle of the common.
Anna thought about that. She did have time. She was going home to an empty flat, to rustle through her cupboards looking for something she could turn into dinner. But would it help? Would it help him, or her, to spend an hour going over things? Going over the past, or the present?
‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I need to get going.’ And she held up the coffee cup she was holding, as a sort of excuse.
He looked a little crestfallen and Anna almost changed her mind. But then she reminded herself that he was part of a family, that he had someone to go home to. She didn’t need to feel bad for him. He had Ella. Sleeping and perfect, a whole new life ready to uncurl. Anna rummaged in her bag, pulled out an old press release and a pen, scribbled down her number.
‘Another time?’ she asked, handing it over to him.
He nodded, folded the paper up and stashed it in the basket of the buggy. ‘Another time.’
And then, before she could say or do anything else, Anna held up her hand in a little wave and turned away, heading back in the direction of her flat.
She could be a mother, she thought. She could have stayed with Edward and built a family. That baby in that buggy could be hers. Or another baby, with another man. She felt a kind of ache at the thought of it. It wasn’t about Edward, she was pretty sure. Turning forty had felt like a full stop on any questioning about motherhood. She knew that people still did it after forty, but she felt sure she wouldn’t. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if it had all been a terrible mistake. Had she put her career ahead of her happiness? And if she had, had it been worth it? She stood at the edge of the common, her hands on her hips, finding it hard to breathe.
Before she really knew what she was doing, Anna found herself heading for the Tube, into the station, going to Clapham.It wasn’t really a decision she made; it was all instinct. Was she going back to the flat she’d shared with Edward, pretending it was a different time? No, she was going to Nia’s. That was what she did when anything big happened. She went to Nia and they raked over it, looked at it from every angle, until they’d made sense of it. She hadn’t done it much since she’d been back, but Nia had. A handful of times she’d turned up on Anna’s doorstep, needing to talk about an argument with Jamie or something about Cara that had made her worry. Anna had been pleased, that she still held that position in Nia’s life, after the years apart.
It was Jamie who came to the door. He welcomed her warmly, as he always did. ‘Anna, come in. Nia’s in the shower but she won’t be long.’
He led her out to the flat’s patio garden, where Cara was running around in her pants, chasing the bubbles he was blowing.
‘Hey, Cara,’ Anna said, and Cara gave her a shy little wave. Not for the first time, Anna wondered about the relationship they might have had, if she’d been in Cara’s life from day one.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ Jamie asked.
Anna shook her head. ‘I’m fine.’
They sat down opposite one another at the little table for two that sat in one corner of the small garden.
