in our room, if you’d prefer …’
‘Is it always there?’ I cut in.
‘What, the en suite?’
‘No, the photo…’
‘Yes, of course it is. You don’t think they put it out specially for you coming, do you? They’re not that twisted, Anna!’
I stare at Ben. I’ve never seen him so awkward and defensive before. Usually so at ease with himself, with a confidence I can only marvel at, he seems to have reverted to being the sixth-form boy in the school photograph. Sweat is beading on his forehead.
‘That’s not what I was suggesting,’ I mutter.
‘Of course it’s always there,’ he says, regaining his composure. ‘At least, I assume it is. You know how things become so familiar you just stop seeing them?’
I study his face. I can’t imagine I’d ever ‘stop seeing’ a huge framed picture of myself and an ex, even if my parents were still around to display one. Not that there’s been anyone significant enough to warrant a lavish photographic display. I have never lived with a boyfriend, although Ben mooted recently that I might ‘tear myself away from the gang’ and move into his smart three-storey townhouse in Clapham at some point in the near future. I reminded him that the four of us own our place together. ‘Couldn’t you let out your room?’ he asked. ‘I mean, there must be a way out.’ For some reason, I have yet to tell Jamie, Kate and Tom about this possible development.
‘Sorry,’ I murmur, sensing my cheeks burning. ‘I didn’t mean to make a thing of it. I s’pose I’m just a bit on edge …’
He kisses my cheek. ‘Look, it was a pretty big deal, my getting married. I suspect they’d given up hope. Maybe that’s why they can’t bear to put it in a cupboard or something …’
‘You were only twenty-nine,’ I remind him.
‘Yeah, and that’s decrepit by their standards. And they liked Louisa. They know her parents, our families were kind of entwined …’
How fantastically cosy … God, what’s wrong with me? It’s their house, they can display whatever they like. They could have Louisa’s wedding dress mounted in a glass box and hung over the fireplace if they wanted. They could make a fancy mosquito net out of her veil.
‘I just feel a bit uncomfortable,’ I add.
Ben’s face softens. ‘Look, I know they’re a bit stiff. They probably don’t know how to be with you. I haven’t brought anyone back since Louisa and I split up. But they’ll warm up, and it’ll be fine …’
‘What did your mum mean when she said, “I didn’t expect …”’
Ben looks baffled.
‘When we arrived,’ I prompt him. ‘She looked a bit shocked …’
‘I’ve no idea,’ he says with a shrug.
‘You did tell them I was coming, didn’t you?’
‘Of course I did!’ he exclaims. ‘D’you really think I’d just spring you on them?’
‘No idea,’ I say truthfully, because in fact I don’t know what to think.
In the vast bathroom I sit on the loo, figuring that maybe it’s normal in these circles to display wedding pictures, even post-divorce. And maybe it’s me who’s weird, and not properly grown-up, still living with friends like a student.
I get up and study my reflection in the gilt-edged mirror above the wash basin. Cheap hair, cheap dress … even my red lipstick looks wrong. It seemed perfect when I chose it, but maybe there is
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