“So you just go your route to work and back again every day,” I say. “You never look left or right. You go to Whole Foods and the park and back again and that’s it.”
“Works for me.”
“How long have you been over here again?”
“Five months.”
“Five months?” I echo in horror. “No. You can’t exist like that. You can’t lead your life in tunnel vision. You have to open your eyes and look around. You have to move on.”
“Move on,” he echoes, in mock-amazed tones. “Wow. Right. Not a phrase anyone’s said to me much.”
OK, so obviously I’m not the only one who’s given him a pep talk. Well, too bad.
“I’ll be gone in two more months,” he adds curtly. “It hardly matters whether I get to know London or not-”
“So, what, you’re just treading water, just existing, waiting until you feel better? Well, you never will! Not unless you do something about it!” All my frustration with him pours out in a stream. “Look at you, doing memos for other people, and emails for your mum, and solving everyone else’s problems because you don’t want to think about your own! Sorry, I overheard you in Pret A Manger,” I add sheepishly as Ed’s head jerks up. “If you’re going to live in a place, doesn’t matter how long, you need to engage with it. Otherwise you’re not really living. You’re just functioning. I bet you haven’t even unpacked properly, have you?”
“As it happens… ” He pauses for a few steps. “My housekeeper unpacked for me.”
“There you go.” I shrug, and we walk on a little more in silence, our footsteps almost in time. “People break up,” I say at last. “It’s just the way things are. And you can’t dwell on what might have been. You have to look at what is.”
As I’m saying the words, I have a weird flash of déjà vu. I think Dad said something to me like this once about Josh. In fact, he might even have used those exact words.
But that was different. I mean, obviously it’s an entirely different scenario. Josh and I weren’t planning a trip, were we? Or to move cities. And now we’re back together again. Totally different.
“Life is like an escalator,” I add wisely.
When Dad says that to me, I get all annoyed because he just doesn’t understand. But somehow it’s different when I’m giving advice.
“An escalator,” echoes Ed. “Thought it was a box of chocolates.”
“No, definitely an escalator. You see, it carries you on regardless.” I mime an escalator. “And you might as well enjoy the view and seize every opportunity while you’re passing. Otherwise it’ll be too late. That’s what my dad told me when I broke up with this… this guy.”
Ed walks on a few paces. “And did you take his advice?”
“Er… well…” I brush my hair back, avoiding his eye. “Kind of.”
Ed stops and looks at me gravely. “Did you ‘move on’? Did you find it easy? Because I sure as hell haven’t.”
I clear my throat, playing for time. What I did isn’t really the point here, surely?
“You know, there are lots of definitions of ‘move on.’” I try to maintain my wise tone. “Many different variations. Everyone has to move on in their own way.”
I’m not sure I want to get into this conversation, actually. Maybe now is the moment to find a cab.
“Taxi!” I wave my hand at a passing cab, but it sails past, even though its light is on. I hate when they do that.
“Let me.” Ed approaches the curb, and I take out my mobile phone. There’s a pretty good minicab company that I use. Maybe they could come and pick us up. I retreat into a doorway, dial the number, and wait on hold, before I eventually discover that all the cabs are out tonight and it’ll be a half-hour wait.
“No good.” I come out of the doorway to see Ed standing stock still on the pavement. He’s not even trying to hail a cab. “No luck?” I say in surprise.
“Lara.” He turns to me. His face is confused and his eyes are a little glassy. Has he been taking drugs or something? “I think we should go dancing.”
“What?” I peer at him, perplexed.
“I think we should go dancing.” He nods. “It would be a perfect way to round off the evening. It just came to me out of the blue.”
I don’t believe it. Sadie .
I whirl around on the pavement, searching the darkness, and suddenly spot her, floating by a lamppost.
“You!” I exclaim furiously, but Ed doesn’t even seem to notice.
“There’s a nightclub near here,” he’s saying. “Come on. Let’s have a quick dance. It’s a great idea. I should have thought of it before.”
“How do you know there’s a nightclub here?” I retort. “You don’t know London!”
“Yeah, right.” He nods, looking a bit flummoxed himself. “But I’m pretty sure there’s a nightclub down that street.” He gestures. “Down there, third left. We should go check it out.”
“I’d love to,” I say sweetly. “But I must just make a call. There’s a conversation I need to have.” I direct the words meaningfully at Sadie. “If I don’t have this conversation, I won’t be able to dance.”
Sulkily, Sadie descends to the pavement, and I pretend to punch a number into my phone. I’m so angry with her, I almost don’t know where to start.