All we have to do is take a walk around Hampstead. Normally, we would set off from home, jumping on the bus or the tube as necessary, grabbing a coffee on the way, and then walking, soaking up the atmosphere. But this time, with James joining us, Jess has switched things around. I think she’s probably feeling a bit edgy about it. Maybe I’m reading too much into it. Anyway, she’s suggested we meet at Kenwood House instead, and set off from there.
‘You off out?’ Emma says when we meet in the hall as I come downstairs.
I nod. ‘You look nice. Off somewhere interesting?’
Emma flips her long dark hair over her shoulders and smiles. She knows she looks good. I like her for that. ‘A third date, actually.’
‘Nice.’ Is this awkward? I wonder. But, you know what? I think maybe it’s okay.
‘Yeah.’ She looks at me for half a moment with an odd expression on her face, and then she grins. ‘He’s a lawyer, funnily enough.’
She’s dressed beautifully as ever, her hair hanging in a shiny curtain down her back. There’s a rumble of music from downstairs – Rob must’ve woken up from his post-work sleep, and be getting ready to head off to the restaurant. I pick up the pile of letters and rifle through them, checking none are for me – which thankfully they’re not, as all I seem to get is junk mail and credit card bills – and stack them neatly on the dresser in the hall.
‘Anyway,’ she starts, pausing to run lipstick around her lips, looking at me in the mirror in the hall. I look back at her reflection for a second.
‘You all right?’ I ask.
She nods. ‘You?’
I nod as well. It’s the nearest we’re going to get to a well that was nice while it lasted, but that’s it conversation.
She picks up her keys and puts them in her expensive-looking red leather bag. ‘I better get going. We’re having lunch at the Granary this afternoon.’
She slings her bag over her shoulder, opens the door, and heads down the stairs and onto the street.
I sit on the overground train heading towards Stratford, head against the window, staring out but not really taking in what I’m seeing. It’s only when the woman sitting opposite drops her bag on my foot that I glance up, realising I’ve almost missed my stop.
‘Sorry, excuse me,’ I say, climbing out of the seat and heading for the exit. I check my watch – I don’t want to get there early and be hovering outside Kenwood House like a loser. I nip into the bakery beside the station and get a sandwich and a can of Coke, and eat them sitting at the entrance to the Heath, before setting off through the trees.
It feels like everyone in London’s here today – dogs on extendable leads getting tangled round each other, and little kids on training bikes being chased downhill by exasperated-looking parents. I march up towards Kenwood House – I haven’t been there for ages, and it was one of the places I’d planned to show Jess on our walks. I just hadn’t banked on James being there, too. It comes into sight – huge and magnificent at the crest of the hill – and I wonder what it’d be like to live in a place like that. Mind you, I bet people think that about our place. I’ve had more than my fair share of raised eyebrows at college when I’ve told them I live on Albany Road. I wonder how long it’ll be before Becky sells the place? I can’t imagine her keeping it as a house-share when it’s worth millions.
I walk around the edge of the house to the place where we’ve arranged to meet, and—
‘Alex, there you are.’
Jess is tying her shoelace. She looks up and beams at me and I feel something in my stomach give a sort of flip. I can’t help it – I grin back. Realising James is standing just to one side of her, I reach out a hand and shake his hand in greeting.
‘Hi,’ I say.
‘This is gorgeous,’ says James. ‘I’ve never been here before.’
‘Pretty nice, isn’t it? There’s a gallery inside,’ I say, realising as I do that James is the sort of person who’ll probably want to go in. I’ve nothing against art per se, but the prospect of wandering around a stately home looking at paintings doesn’t exactly fill me with joy.
‘And a collection of shoe buckles,’ says Jess. ‘I’ve googled. Anyway, shall we walk?’
‘Let’s go,’ James says, heartily. I realise this is probably as awkward for him as it is for me.
We set off through the gardens of the house. Jess stops to take a photograph of the Henry Moore sculpture, (because in Jess’s world if you haven’t Instagrammed it, did it really happen?) and while she’s standing with her phone, trying to get the perfect angle, James and I are left standing side by side, making conversation.
‘So I gather you two have been walking miles all over London?’ James says, looking at me intently. He’s very … solid. Golden. Like – oh my God, he’s like a Golden Retriever. Sort of healthy and sturdy and reliable. I have no idea why that just popped into my head, and now it won’t go away. The irony is that Jess would normally find that kind of comment funny, but under the circumstances …
‘Well,’ I begin, sounding very serious because I’m trying not to think about James as a Golden Retriever in a suit and tie, ‘it started because Jess didn’t know her way around.’
‘And Alex knows it really well because he spent loads of time here when his dad used to come up here for work.’ Jess appears beside us and finishes my sentence, looking at me sideways and smiling. She hooks a strand of hair behind her ear. She’s wearing a jumper and a dress that is patterned all over with tiny little rosebuds, and the necklace she told me her Nanna Beth gave her as a good luck charm before she moved up here. I blink hard and look away, wondering if I’ve been staring.
‘And Alex just seems to know loads of history about the places we’ve been,’ she continues, as if I haven’t just been gazing at her for what felt like ages. Maybe it was only a couple of seconds. Maybe – no, definitely – I need to get a grip.
‘That’s only because I’m a complete geek, with a weird memory for random stuff,’ I add.
‘It’s not random. If it wasn’t for you, I’d never have discovered the delight that is the Hyde Park pet cemetery.’ She laughs.
‘I thought you’d like it here because of the whole Notting Hill thing.’ I wave an arm down in the direction of the sweep of grass where a scene from the movie was shot.
‘Ahh,’ sighs Jess, happily. ‘If only a young Hugh Grant would materialise in front of us right now.’
‘What would you do?’ I raise an eyebrow.
‘Go scarlet in the face and hide behind a tree, of course. I mean in my fantasy world I’d introduce myself and he’d fall madly in love with me, but—’
James clears his throat. ‘I was thinking we could walk down to the Pergola – there’s a lovely view over the city from there.’
Jess shoots me a quick look. I make a face. I’m not sure her Richard Curtis movie daydreams are really James’s thing. He’s going to need to get used to them, mind you. It’s a standing joke in the house that every time we turn on Netflix in the sitting room we’re asked if we want to carry on watching one of them. She’s completely addicted.
‘That sounds good, doesn’t it, Alex?’
I nod. And we start walking – James slightly in front, because he’s got a printed-out map, even though it’s not exactly difficult to find, and if we keep walking in a straight line we’ll get there. I don’t say anything. Jess hovers somewhere between the two of us. This is – awkward. I feel like the third wheel on a date, only a date that isn’t even going all that well. ‘Um,’ I start to say, trying to think of something intelligent and interesting to say that’ll get James talking – and then a gust of wind blows a kid’s plastic kite right through the middle of the three of us and we duck out of the way. James grabs it and walks over to the little boy and his parents, bending down to his level to hand it over. He smiles and shows James a handful of pebbles he’s collected and stuffed in his pockets. The parents get involved, and I watch as he chats to them, probably about the weather and other suitable topics, and when he stands up and dusts down his trousers he looks across at us and smiles, and the little boy does, too.
‘Well, he’s good with children,’ I say, with an eyebrow raised.
‘Shut it, you.’ Jess shoves me with an elbow.
‘I’m just saying. Good marriage material, and all that.’ Why on earth did I say that? Why am I trying to push her into his arms? Oh, God. I give myself a shake.
‘Well, don’t,’ she says, looking a bit cross.
‘Talking of children,’ I say, ‘what’s happening with Sophie?’
‘Nothing,’ says Jess. She gives me a look that quite clearly says ‘Stop talking’. I turn around to see that James has rejoined us. At first I can’t figure out what Jess is worried about, then I realise, shit. Shit. James works with Sophie and he probably overheard me.
‘What’s happening with Sophie?’ James repeats.
‘Just a party she’s organising for her niece. I was helping her make plans.’ Jess covers up quickly. I don’t think James even thinks about it, mind you. He’s looking at the map, brow furrowed. I lean across and show him where we are, pointing in the direction of the Pergola.
‘There’s a road in the way,’ says James.
‘Yeah, we just have to cross there and walk down a bit past the Spaniards – it’s an old pub, been there since the sixteenth century – and then we’re back on the heath again.
Jess is trailing behind, looking more at her phone than the scenery. I try and think of something to say to James, but somehow he reminds me so much of the life I left behind that I find it really weird. I hadn’t really noticed that I’d changed – I mean, I know Alice talked about it, but I still felt like the old Alex, on the whole. But here’s James, talking about someone at work who’d just bought a house in the Highlands and a trip to Goa he was planning for Christmas, and it all feels like a world I used to know, but it’s so far removed from my own life that I can hardly recognise it.
We’re distracted – thankfully – by a group of Basset Hounds that are lumbering along just in front of their owners. They flock around our legs, long tails wagging, noses sniffing in case we’ve got any spare dog treats hanging around. It breaks the ice a bit, which is just as well because this walk feels like it’s going to last a lifetime.
And then Jess’s phone rings. ‘Gen! Hi! Oh how funny, I was just thinking about you.’
James fiddles with the sleeve of his shirt, adjusting the buttons. I lean back against a wall, pushing my sunglasses up my nose so I can watch Jess without being seen. I am almost one hundred per cent certain that Gen’s call was a set-up. Jess’s tone is just a little bit too perky for it to be realistic.
Jess hangs up, sticking her phone back in the pocket of her jeans.
‘Gen’s just around the corner in the Spaniards having drinks, isn’t that amazing?’
‘Really?’ James looks surprised. ‘What’s she doing up here? This isn’t her neck of the woods, is it?’
‘Oh,’ Jess says, airily. ‘Perhaps she just fancied a change?’
I tip my sunglasses down a fraction with a finger, looking at Jess over the top of the lenses. She catches my gaze for the briefest of moments. Her eyes dart away from mine, and her mouth twitches in the way it does whenever she’s trying not to laugh. I look the other way and smile.
Outside in the beer garden of the Spaniards, Gen’s sitting at a wooden table with a tall, rather pissed-off-looking man in a long, drooping sort of coat that matches his long, drooping hair and face – like one of the Basset Hounds we’ve just seen. The other tables are full of tourists, cameras hanging round their necks and guide books and maps spread out between their drinks.
‘Alex!’ Gen stands up and kisses me on the cheek. She smells of apple shampoo and chewing gum. Her red curls are a wild halo around her face. ‘Fancy meeting you here.’
‘Fancy,’ I say, drily. ‘Shall I get us some drinks?’
‘I’ll get them,’ says James, taking his wallet out of his pocket. ‘What do you guys want?’
Gen and her lugubrious-looking boyfriend ponder for a moment, which gives me time to make a rapid escape plan.
I pull my phone out of my pocket, scrolling down the screen and frowning in an exaggerated manner, before firing off a rapid text.
‘Alex? Drink?’ James looks over at me. He’s so solid and wholesome. All he needs is a tail to wag and he’d be off.
I shake my head sorrowfully. ‘Sorry, guys, something’s come up.’ I wave the phone as evidence. ‘Just had a message. I’ve got to get across town. Work stuff.’
Jess gives me a very sharp look. I look back, my expression one of injured innocence, and raise a hand in farewell, vaulting over the wooden fence of the beer garden, striding off in the direction of the tube.
I don’t for one second believe that Alex had something come up at work. For one thing, he’s not working today. For another, he was clearly finding it as excruciatingly awkward as I was. Introducing boyfriends to existing friends is bloody hard work. Even more so when the existing friend is – well, I’m not even going to go there. James is lovely, and charming, and when I get back from the loo he’s sitting chatting quite happily to Gen and her boyfriend. There, you see. Perfect boyfriend material. And objectively speaking, he’s good-looking too, in a sort of posh boy way. I mean not that I’m being objective. I should be being subjective. But – oh, you know what I mean. It’s just …
I can’t help wondering if the emergency text – if there even was one – has something to do with the whole Alice thing. He hasn’t said anything more about it but I wonder if she’s still on the scene, somehow. And then I have to remind myself that it’s nothing to do with me, because I’m with James, and Alex can do what he wants. He’s a friend, that’s all. And there’s no reason at all why a friend wouldn’t send a text to ask if everything’s okay, is there?