“What other hand?” says Suze. “There isn’t another hand!”
“There is. At least… I think there is.” I start to nibble my thumbnail distractedly. “Suze, I’m worried about Luke. He really attacked his mother. And now he says he’s never going to talk to her again…”
“So what? Isn’t that a good thing?”
“I don’t know. Is it?” I stare at the floor for a few moments. “He’s all euphoric at the moment. But what if he starts feeling guilty? What if this screws him up just as badly in the future? You know, Annabel, his stepmum, once said if I tried to chop Elinor out of Luke’s life it would damage him.”
“But you didn’t chop her out of his life,” points out Suze. “He did.”
“Well, maybe he’s damaged himself. Maybe it’s like… he’s chopped his own arm off or something.”
“Err, gross!”
“And now there’s this huge wound, which nobody can see, and it’ll fester away, and one day it’ll erupt again…”
“Bex! Stop it! I’m eating my breakfast.”
“OK, sorry. I’m just worried about him. He’s not right. And the other thing is…” I close my eyes, almost unable to believe I’m about to say this. “I’ve kind of… changed my mind about Elinor.”
“You what?” screeches Suze. “Bex, please don’t say things like that! I nearly dropped Ernie on the floor!”
“I don’t like her or anything,” I say hastily. “But we had this talk. And I do think maybe she loves Luke. In her own weird, icebox Vulcan way.”
“But she abandoned him!”
“I know. But she regrets it.”
“Well, so what! She bloody well ought to regret it!”
“Suze, I just think… maybe she deserves another chance.” I gaze at my fingertip, which is slowly turning blue. “I mean… look at me. I’ve done millions of stupid, thoughtless things. I’ve let people down. But they’ve always given me another chance.”
“Bex, you’re nothing like bloody Elinor! You’d never leave your child!”
“I’m not saying I’m like her! I’m just saying…” I tail away feebly, letting the dressing gown cord unravel.
I don’t really know what I’m saying. And I don’t think Suze will ever quite understand where I’m coming from. She’s never made any mistakes in her life. She’s always cruised through easily, never upsetting anyone, never getting herself in trouble. But I haven’t. I know what it feels like to do something stupid — or worse than stupid — and then wish, above anything else, that I hadn’t.
“So what does all this mean? Why are you—” Suze’s voice sharpens in alarm. “Hang on. Bex, this isn’t your way of saying you’re going to get married in New York after all, is it?”
“It’s not as simple as that,” I say after a pause.
“Bex… I’ll kill you. I really will. If you tell me now that you want to get married in New York—”
“Suze, I don’t want to get married in New York. Of course I don’t! But if we abandon the wedding now… then that’ll be it. Elinor’ll never speak to either of us again. Ever.”
“I don’t believe it. I just don’t believe it! You’re going to fuck everything up again, aren’t you?”
“Suze—”
“Just as everything is all right! Just as for once in your life, you aren’t in a complete mess and I can start to relax…”
“Suze—”
“Becky?”
I look up, startled. Luke is standing there in his boxers and T-shirt, staring in bleary puzzlement at me.
“Are you OK?” he says.
“I’m fine,” I say, putting a hand over the receiver. “Just talking to Suze. You go back to bed. I won’t be long.”
I wait until he’s gone and then shuffle closer to the radiator, which is still giving out a feeble heat.
“OK, Suze, listen,” I say. “Just… just hear me out. I’m not going to fuck anything up. I’ve been thinking really hard, and I’ve had this genius idea…”
By nine the next morning I’m at Elinor’s apartment. I’ve dressed very carefully and am wearing my smartest linen U.N. diplomatic envoy-style suit, together with a pair of nonconfrontational rounded-toe shoes. Although I’m not sure Elinor quite appreciates the effort I’ve made. As she answers the door she looks even paler than usual and her eyes are like daggers.
“Rebecca,” she says stonily.
“Elinor,” I reply, equally stonily. Then I remember I’ve come here in order to be conciliatory. “Elinor,” I repeat, trying to inject the word with some warmth. “I’ve come to talk.”
“To apologize,” she says, heading down the corridor.
God, she is a cow. And anyway, what did I do? Nothing! For a moment I consider turning round and leaving. But I’ve decided to do this, so I will.
“Not really,” I say. “Just to talk. About you. And Luke.”
“He has regretted his rash actions.”
“No.”
“He wishes to apologize.”
“No! He doesn’t! He’s hurt and angry and he has no desire to go near you again!”
“So why are you here?”
“Because… I think it would be a good thing if the two of you tried to make up. Or at least talk to each other again.”