in a less flattering light, and wonder what I had really thought.
‘Lovely!’ Catherine said. ‘Why don’t you try these with them, though?’ She handed the girl a wide blue belt and a pair of tan high heels. As the girl fastened the belt around her and slipped her feet into the shoes, I saw her transform before my eyes. The belt hid the tightness of the jeans at her waist, the heels elongating her legs and making her look elegant and almost willowy. From the look on her face, she was seeing the same thing. Ten minutes later she was loading her purchases on to the counter and pulling out her card. I rang the sale through, smiling at Catherine over the girl’s shoulder. She was clearly glowing with her success, eyes bright and eager. What would it be like to have that kind of talent for something, that kind of satisfaction in what life had given to you?
‘So how was the party?’ she asked when the girl had bounced out of the shop, bags jauntily in hand. Her voice was light, but she was looking at me with the same thinly veiled expression of curiosity and sympathy that she had worn since I had told her about my marriage. ‘Did Harvey enjoy it?’
This seemed to be everyone’s primary concern. ‘I think so,’ I said. ‘Everything went smoothly, anyway. Well, except—’ I broke off. I felt unaccountably shy about mentioning Max – perhaps because to the best of my recollection she had never mentioned him herself. A flash of his dark, scowling face came to me; the rough, earthy smell of smoke that had risen off him as he grabbed my wrist and leant in towards me. The previous night, I had dreamt about him. In my dream he had been cutting down the old apple tree in the garden after dark, naked from the waist up, bare muscular arms swinging with contained power as he hacked with a gleaming silver saw at its trunk. I went forward to greet him, but he acted as if he could not see me, his black eyes burning through me with ferocious concentration, wide and oblivious to the sparks of wood that flew all around us and stung the air. I had woken in a sweat, my heart thumping as if an intruder had slid into something far more threatening than my dreams.
‘I think you met my brother, didn’t you?’ Catherine said, as if she had read my mind. She was watching me very intently now, as if searching my thoughts.
‘Yes – yes, I did,’ I stammered. ‘You don’t look alike, at all.’
‘Everyone says that,’ said Catherine, shrugging. ‘I think we do.’
I almost laughed, looking at her fragile prettiness; the white-blonde hair feathered around her face, the pert nose and full pink lips. ‘Maybe if I saw you together,’ I said.
‘Well, you’ll get your chance,’ she said. ‘He said he was going to pop in here around midday, so he should be here soon.’
‘What? Why would he do that?’ I asked sharply. I saw Catherine’s face crease in confusion, and bit my lip. The echo of my voice, unnaturally and unnecessarily harsh, hung between us. I knew that I was being ridiculous, but the thought of seeing Max again frightened me. I felt an instinctive wariness, the prickling of a sixth sense running over me from top to toe.
‘I wondered that myself,’ Catherine said. ‘He never has before. But maybe it’s not me he’s coming to see.’ Her voice was teasing, but there was anxiety in her eyes. ‘Only joking – I think he just wants to catch up. He moved out from our parents’ a few years ago, so we don’t see each other so much these days. But if there’s a problem – I could call him and tell him not to bother, if you like.’
I hesitated; it would be easy to say yes, but I didn’t want any awkwardness to develop between myself and Catherine, not so soon after I had finally begun to sense the potential for a friendship between us. ‘No, no, of course not,’ I said, softening my voice to compensate for my outburst. ‘I’m sorry. To be honest, I’m just a bit cautious around men these days. I know it’s silly, but since Jonathan, I don’t have much to do with them – well, except Harvey, of course.’ I was speaking without consideration, almost at random, but as I did so I realised that there was more than a grain of truth in what I was saying, and it comforted me a little.
Catherine looked indecisive, her fingers agitatedly running back and forth along the long strands of green glass beads she wore around her neck. ‘Of course,’ she echoed. ‘I didn’t think.’
I sensed her automatic deference to a situation she knew nothing about, and felt guilty. ‘Honestly, it’s fine,’ I said, more firmly this time. ‘I can’t hide away for ever.’ These words had been said to me many times over the past few months, mostly in the form of unanswered voicemails from my former school-friends that had graded from sympathy to worry to sulkiness, and eventually through to silence. I had always hated the sentiment: I wasn’t hiding away, just had no desire to see them or anyone else. Now, though, I discovered that it could be a useful panacea – and when I was the one saying it, I found that I didn’t mind it so much.
‘Well, that’s good,’ said Catherine, breaking away and giggling nervously, ‘because speak of the devil…’
…And he’ll draw near, I thought. The bell above the shop door jangled with brittle force as Max pushed the door open and came in. Hands in pockets, he surveyed the shop for a few seconds, as if it were some curious new world. He was wearing a charcoal-coloured T-shirt that hugged the tops of his arms tightly, outlining the muscle beneath. Seeing him again, I noticed anew the brutally close cut of his hair against his skull, and how tall he was – taller than Jonathan, maybe by three inches or more. He didn’t take off his sunglasses, and it was impossible to tell exactly where he was looking. I found it unsettling.
‘All right, Catherine,’ he said, striding forward and slinging one arm around her neck briefly to kiss her cheek. With a shock, I saw that although I could still see nothing of her in him, there was something of him in her – warped, softened and feminised, but unmistakable. He must have felt me staring, because he wheeled round and directed the blank dark glare of his glasses towards me. ‘Hello,’ he said.
‘Hello.’ I was determined to be polite, but all the same I could think of nothing more to say. Now that we were face to face, all I could feel was humiliation at our last meeting – my childish protestations that he had not been invited to Harvey’s garden party. ‘I could make you some tea, if you like.’ I clutched at the idea with relief. It had felt like the right thing to say, but as soon as the words were out, I wished I had kept quiet: it sounded like an absurdly middle-class offer. I felt as embarrassed as if I had suggested that we should all sit out on the lawn together in Edwardian dress, drinking out of bone-china cups and eating scones with jam.
‘Tea,’ Max repeated. ‘Yeah, well, why not.’ He spoke the words in a flat monotone that to my ears was tinged with sarcasm, as if he was doing me a favour rather than the other way around, but all the same I was grateful for the acceptance. I ducked into the back room, pulling the door shut behind me to drown out their voices. I put the kettle on, lined the mugs up with trembling hands. I felt totally out of control of my own body. For a second I screwed my eyes tight shut, breathing deeply, but when I opened them again everything looked eerie and unreal, brightly coloured and two-dimensional. I gritted my teeth; it was ridiculous to be so nervous, nervous at nothing. I bent down and took the milk out of the fridge, then realised that I had no idea whether or not Max took it, or sugar for that matter. The thought of going back in to ask paralysed me. I tapped my fingers against the mugs, willing myself to think. Jonathan had taken milk and one sugar; I would give Max the same. The logic made no sense, but I didn’t care. I filled the mugs with exaggerated care and put them on to a tray. Briefly I considered adding some biscuits, but thought better of it; I didn’t want to seem like an overeager housewife. I pushed my way through the door, tray in hand. Max and Catherine were talking by the counter, their heads close together in a way that suggested something more than idle chit-chat.
‘Tea!’ I said brightly, brandishing
