‘Unbelievable,’ Gwen said, turning round to face Sinead. ‘How is Elliot, though; how is he in himself?’
‘Yeah, he’s good, I think. Can’t say for sure. I haven’t really known him that long.’
‘I know he can come across as a bit aloof. But he’s a good man underneath. A good friend. Please do send him my best.’
‘Sure. No problem.’
‘Tell him to get in touch. I should be able to escape for a coffee sometime.’
Sinead noticed a fleeting look of sadness cloud Gwen’s face.
Gwen said, ‘Silly really; it’s just so hard to keep hold of friends at my age. Oh well, here I am blathering on as usual… it was lovely to meet you, Sinead.’
Sinead smiled reassuringly. ‘He’ll be sorry he missed you.’ Gwen stepped back and gave a little wave. Sinead hesitated as Gwen began walking away, but then she got out her phone. ‘Let me find his number for you. Maybe it’s different from the one you’ve got.’ Sinead scrolled through her contacts.
Gwen came back to the step. ‘Oh, super! Thank you, Sinead. You’re very kind. My phone’s in the car; let me just scribble it down somewhere.’ Gwen looked towards her kids in the car and wagged her finger at them. Sinead found Elliot’s details.
‘You know, I’m so glad you’ve moved in. He always seemed such a lonely man. I think you’ll be good for him,’ said Gwen as she pulled a pen and crumpled receipt from her handbag.
‘Thanks.’ Sinead looked up from her phone and beamed. ‘Okay, so the number is…’
***
After Gwen got in her car and drove off, Sinead went to the huge bookcase and thought about where to place the returned paperback. There was no obvious organised system: non-fiction titles were mixed up with novels and cookery books were next to biographies. She chose a random spot, parted a space on the shelf and inserted the novel.
She reclined on the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. Was that how she’d end up in her forties? Sad and lonely, with nobody to chat to about books, music, the state of the world? No one to catch up with over coffee? The thought actually made her shiver. She searched through the video clips on her smartphone and found one from the Catford house-warming party, three and a half years earlier.
She played the clip: Magz was dancing in the living room, surrounded by a bunch of people they’d met in the pub. High on a pill, pupils massively dilated, her face came towards the camera lens and the audio track had the squelch of a kiss. ‘I fucking love ya, Sinead,’ Magz said before closing her eyes and grooving to the beat. Sinead winced at the sound of her own laughter distorting on the microphone.
Another clip showed Imogen and Heidi drunkenly bellowing along to Mr Brightside by The Killers. They collapsed into giggles and then beckoned Sinead over for a group hug. Heidi was saying something, but the audio was muffled. The footage ended. Sinead placed her phone on the coffee table. She couldn’t watch any more because she felt herself sinking into depression. How could things have changed so drastically? She missed them all badly: Heidi, Magz, even Imogen. Or at least she missed the old Imogen. She and Sinead had never exactly been besties, but they’d always managed to get on and have a laugh. If Joel hadn’t moved into the house she was certain they’d have patched up their differences sooner or later.
The four of them had been through so much in the last six or seven years: university, moving to London, first jobs, break-ups and breakdowns. They’d grown up together…
Sinead experienced a sudden moment of clarity: she couldn’t just sit around on her own, stewing and feeling sorry for herself. No, something had to be done about this situation. It had got out of hand. Life is short. Fix things before it’s too late.
Suddenly energised, Sinead jumped up from the sofa and fetched her laptop from the bedroom. After opening up her Gmail account, she began drafting a group email.
Dear Heidi, Imogen & Magz,
Hope you guys are all good. Just wanted to check in and tell you that I’m missing you. Things weren’t exactly great between us before I left but I’m really hoping that we can get back to how it used to be. I know I probably came across as a moody mare and I’m sorry if I’ve been difficult to live with recently. I guess I didn’t cope too well with Caitlin dying. I just tried getting on with it the best I could but maybe I didn’t do such a good job. I know I was never up for talking about it but that’s because it just never seemed to help. Nothing I said or did ever stopped her from drinking and then when she got diabetes she just drank even more. So what good does talking do?
Anyway, if I was hard to live with, I hope you can forgive me. I thought it was best for all of us that I moved out so I could get my head together and start figuring out what I’m supposed to be doing with my life. I have to say, though, I was pretty hurt by the way you treated me before I left. My birthday sucked. And nobody seemed bothered when I moved out.
Sinead deleted the last three sentences and instead wrote: I love you guys and I miss you.
She stopped typing and read the email back to herself. God, it felt weird reading that. She’d never written down the truth about how she felt before. Now she worried that the email was too honest and that the girls wouldn’t understand where she was coming from. They might even laugh at her and think she was sad and pathetic. A fucking loser. Maybe if she rewrote the email, keeping it light and jokey. But then what was the point of writing it at all? She could just send some bullshit text message. A fucking sad-face emoji.
Something about writing this stuff down was making her anxious. Imagine sending it and then getting no reply. Baring your soul and being ignored. That would be torture. No, she decided, this wasn’t the right approach. This would need to be done in person. It would be hard, maybe even humiliating, but she needed to look into their eyes when she said these things.
***
The short walk from Catford Bridge station to her old house was making Sinead nervous. Yesterday’s conversation with Gwen was still playing on her mind. Life was too hard without people on your side. These girls were Sinead’s sisters, and if it was up to her to offer the olive branch, then she just had to swallow her pride and get on with it. She had drawn some cash out on the high street so she could say she’d come to pay the cable bill. It was ridiculous, but she actually felt that she needed an excuse to visit her mates.
She turned down her old road, thinking it looked the same as she remembered. Of course it looks the same, stupid – it hasn’t even been three weeks since you moved! What was wrong with her? Why was she so anxious? This had been her home for three and a half years – what was the big deal?
The big deal was that now she felt different. It may only have been three weeks, but something had changed. She was a stranger. Sinead approached the front door and hesitated. She told herself to get a grip, took a deep breath and then pressed the bell and waited, ran a hand through her hair and flattened the collar on her denim jacket. The door started opening. Sinead tried acting cool – until she saw who was on the other side.
Joel was in the doorway looking amazing, with wet hair slicked back as though he’d just got out of the shower. She couldn’t speak. Joel said nothing either. Think of something clever to say. But nothing came. ‘Hey…’ was all she managed. He just smirked. They stared deep into each other’s eyes.