which is very unlike him.
‘What?’ I say, realising they are both looking at me and my untouched cupcake.
His voice is quieter now, less animated. ‘It was called Lost Daughters.’
I feel like the air has been knocked out of me. I can hear Pen and Graeme talking but it’s as though they are under water. I haven’t had any time to think about any of this. When I’d got back to Cambridge at lunchtime I’d hardly had time to unpack my bag before meeting up with Pen and Graeme at the café.
I keep feeling waves of grief and anger and confusion, most of them directed at my mother, some of them at Johnny. And every now and then there’s another feeling, like the very beginnings of butterflies, whenever I let my mind drift back to Edwin Jones.
‘Julia,’ Pen is trying to get my attention. ‘I’ve got to get back to work. Are you going to be OK?’
‘Yes…’ I force a smile ‘…of course. I should get going myself I guess. I’m meant to be having dinner with Alec tonight.’
Pen smiles at me vaguely. I have a feeling she’s not really listening.
As I get up to leave Graeme squeezes my hand. ‘You know where we are if you need us?’
I nod.
‘And, Julia?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can I eat your cupcake?’
*
Alec is a lecturer in economics and in the middle of writing a very important book. It’s thought he’ll get professorship next academic year and be the youngest professor the Faculty of Economics has ever had. He’s something of a genius in European macroeconomics, lectures all over the world and is constantly busy.
While Alec is away at college dinners, giving lectures, flying off to other universities all over the world and Pen and Graeme are busy at the café, I am often left to my own devices. I go to yoga twice a week, even though I’ve still got to convince myself I love it, I joined a book group, even though no-one was ever interested in reading the books I suggested.
It’s unusual, then, for Alec and me to see each other during the week. If I’m honest, we’ve been seeing less and less of each other over the last few years. While other people my age are getting married, buying houses and having babies, my life seems to have come to a bit of a standstill and my relationship seems to be going backwards.
I know that’s my fault. I know that Alec wanted to get a house together years ago, but I always had an excuse. He said we didn’t have to get married, but I was scared. Just like I was too scared to go to law school. I’ve been feeling for a while I need to make changes and now I’ve turned thirty it’s time I implemented them.
And then like a punch in the gut I remember. The change has happened. It happened yesterday morning in a wood-panelled office in Mayfair. I found out who my father was. I found out that I am, to all intents and purposes, a millionaire.
I take a few breaths, trying to ward off the impending panic. This is what I’ve been waiting for all these years and I have no idea what to do with it.
Although that hideous office job can go for a start.
Alec has this habit of appearing suddenly from nowhere and after ten years he still surprises me. Tonight, as I wait for him outside Trinity College, he’s there suddenly, interrupting my thoughts.
‘Let’s go to the Pickerel,’ he says, nodding towards the pub we’ve been going to since we were students. I’m surprised, as he usually wants to eat somewhere fancier than the pub. He holds my hand as we walk down Bridge Street but doesn’t really say anything. I know this mood. Something’s happened but he doesn’t know how to tell me what it is.
He buys me a glass of Malbec and himself a pint and we find a table. It’s busy in here and hot. It’s been another scorching day.
‘I’ve been offered a new position,’ he says, without preamble, without looking at me.
I knew it.
‘I’m really pleased for you,’ I say, reaching out for his hand and realising that I really am. He’s waited years for this.
He looks away from me, ever so slightly.
‘It’s in America. Harvard. I can’t not take this, Julia. It’s the chance of a lifetime.’
‘Of course you can’t not take it. Harvard! That’s amazing.’ I wasn’t expecting this. I’m trying very hard to be excited and not to sulk because he never told me he was even thinking about Harvard.
He takes another swig of his pint and finally meets my eye.
I suddenly realise what this means.
He puts his pint down and sighs. He takes both my hands in his.
‘Julia.’ He says my name quietly, tenderly. ‘There’s no easy way to say this but I think it’s time we went our separate ways.’
I stare at him. I can feel tears burning the backs of my eyes and I don’t know why. I can’t pretend I wasn’t expecting this eventually.
‘Julia, we’ve been dancing around each other for a decade now. We don’t even live together. I have no idea where you want this to go but we can’t stand still for ever. You can’t stand still for ever.’
‘You know why though,’ I say quietly, blinking to stop the tears coming. ‘You know why I don’t want to get married.’
‘And I always said we didn’t have to,’ he says. ‘But you will never talk about the future. You won’t move in with me and you won’t even consider the idea of a family.’ I can hear resentment in his voice as he forces himself to stop.
I shake my head. Look away from him. I want to tell him that things aren’t standing still any more. I want to tell him who my father is but the words won’t come.
‘Julia, you are one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. And although you might not believe this, I do love you. Part of me probably always will, but I’m setting you free. Go, find out what it is you do want, because I don’t for a moment believe it’s me.’
I still don’t say anything.
‘What happened to us?’ he asks quietly.
I stand up suddenly, pulling my hands away from his.
‘Julia, what are you doing?’ he asks, staring at me.
‘I’m going home,’ I say. ‘Why make this harder than it already is?’
‘Julia, please sit down. Let’s have a meal together, for old time’s sake at least.’
I can’t. I can’t sit here opposite him pretending to have a nice evening and knowing that everything has changed. I open my mouth to say something. I should tell Alec about Edwin, about Bruce Baldwin, but I still seem incapable of forming a sentence.
‘I
