better to put the sofa here.’ I point to the mid-section of the long room. ‘You can create a divide if you put the bookcase behind it so it backs onto it. What do you think?’
Anna’s shaking her head with a big smile on her face. ‘It sounds amazing. Shall we give it a go?’
‘What do you think?’ I ask when we’ve finished moving the furniture. I’m standing with my hands on my hips, still slightly out of breath from all the exertion, and instinctively I arch my back gently, my hand on my bump, to stretch it out. It’s odd to see a room that looks like ours, with furniture in the same position as ours, but with such different pieces. Nothing of Anna and Rob’s actually matches; there’s no unifying theme. A lot of it looks like it might have come from second-hand shops or have been passed down from friends or family. It’s not a problem, though. If Anna wants, I can easily pull it together with soft furnishings and accessories.
‘It’s awkward because it’s such a long, thin room,’ I say, ‘but it works like this. If you want it even more streamlined and can stretch to it, a flat-screen TV fixed to the wall will save you floor space. We have one. It just means the room’s less cluttered.’ I look around for my coffee and take a sip, grimace and put it back down.
‘Gone cold?’ Anna asks. ‘Can I get you anything else?’
‘Some water would be great, thanks.’ I flop onto the sofa, suddenly aware of how physically worn out I am. It’s only half eleven – too early for lunch – but I don’t want the day to end now. I’m looking forward to going out for lunch with her.
‘Do you want me to help with anything else?’ I ask when Anna returns with the water.
‘Umm.’ She frowns. ‘I know. Could you help me decide where to put my pictures? I think they’re in this box…’ She opens a box and pulls out three or four framed prints. They’re pretty nondescript and I’m kicking myself for being a snob about them when Anna sighs. She’s holding one out at arm’s length. It’s a stylized picture of some colourful flowers that I know was from Ikea ten or more years ago.
‘I don’t know,’ Anna says. ‘They’re a bit tired, aren’t they? We’ve had them for years. They were mine before we got married. Maybe it’s time for something new.’
‘It’s up to you.’ I pause, aware that I mustn’t come across as desperate. ‘The sales are on at the moment…’ I cock my head. ‘If you fancy doing a bit of shopping, I’d be happy to come and help you choose?’
Anna smiles. ‘Really? You wouldn’t mind?’
‘Absolutely! I love shopping. Even better when it’s not my money! When do you want to go? This afternoon?’ She looks taken aback and I suddenly think I’ve been too forward. ‘Unless you have something planned?’
‘No. I… no, that’s fine.’
‘Okay. Great!’ Lunch! Shopping! ‘So,’ I rub my hands together. ‘What about upstairs? Do you need any help there?’
She hesitates for a beat, which stretches, then she says, ‘Sure. Come and have a look.’
I follow Anna up the narrow stairs. The master bedrooms aren’t big in these houses but Anna and Rob’s seems more spacious than ours. It takes me a minute to figure out why: our king-sized bed takes up most of the available floor space, but Anna’s standard double leaves more carpet space. Apart from two small bedside tables, it’s the only piece of furniture in the room.
‘It’s the same as mine,’ I tell her. ‘If you just turn the bed this way…’ I mime it with my arms, ‘then you’ll open up this area, which means you get better access to the wardrobes and can use this area here. Shall we?’
Pushing and pulling, we move the bed and stand back, pleased with our work.
‘It looks great. Thank you,’ Anna says. She follows my eyes, which are looking at a photo on the bedside table. It’s of her and the man I saw on Instagram.
‘Is that Rob?’ I ask.
She picks it up and hands it to me. Anna looks a lot younger and her hair’s a few shades darker.
‘That was when we first got together,’ she says.
‘Aww, you look good together.’
‘I hope he likes the house,’ Anna says, taking the picture back. ‘He hasn’t seen it yet. There’s not a lot of storage space. I tried to get his stuff in here but it’s a bit of a squash.’ She opens the wardrobe door. ‘I’ve had to give him a load of the hanging space for his shirts. Good job I don’t like dresses!’
‘I know,’ I say. ‘It’s brutal.’
I step out onto the landing where there’s another door. I put my hand on the knob. ‘Is this the…?’ I raise my eyebrows, remembering the picture of the white cot she’d put on Instagram hashtagged ‘#wishlist’.
‘Yes. But I’m not showing anyone.’ She puts her hand on her bump. ‘I don’t want to jinx anything.’
‘I get that. Completely. I was the same. Nothing until the baby’s completely viable, right?’
She smiles at me. ‘Exactly. Rob thinks I’m superstitious,’ Anna says, ‘but still.’ We go down the stairs to the hallway, where we stand awkwardly for a moment, then she pulls her phone out of her pocket.
‘Oh no,’ she says, looking at the screen. ‘I know we talked about lunch but some urgent work’s come up. I’m not going to be able to make it after all.’ She looks up at me with an apologetic smile. ‘Why don’t we postpone lunch to Monday? Do the shopping then? My treat.’
The empty day suddenly yawns ahead of me and there it is: the blackness that’s been kept at bay all morning. It trickles coldly around my heart, trying to find a way in, but I push it back.
‘Sure,’ I say, forcing a smile. Then I have an idea. I look over Anna’s shoulder back into the living room. ‘Do you mind if I just take a few pictures? I’ll have a think about what’ll bring the room together so when we go shopping we don’t make any mistakes. Would that be okay?’
Anna waves at the room. ‘Help yourself.’
I take a couple of quick pictures of the living space, feeling a bit odd as I do so. Her tone makes me feel as if I may have overstepped the mark by asking.
‘Right, I’ll have a think what we can do,’ I say, slipping my phone back in the bag. ‘See you on Monday.’
‘Have a great weekend,’ Anna says.
‘You too.’ Already I’m wondering what she’s going to be doing all by herself over the weekend. She must be busy with work. I think of my phone with the images of her front room on it. Well, that makes two of us.
I know where you went on your first date
It couldn’t have been more Disney if he’d tried. It couldn’t have been more of a cliché; wouldn’t surprise me if he flew over specially when he heard you were in
