I’m momentarily saved from my boredom by the door buzzer.
When I glance in the monitor to see who it is, I instantly wish I could return to my previous state of dullness.
It’s Francesca.
Should I ignore it? Pretend I’m not in? It buzzes again, making me jump, setting my heart racing. Maybe she’s here to see Laurence. But somehow I don’t think so. I don’t imagine it’s any coincidence that she’s arrived while he’s away. At the third buzz, I realise she’s not giving up.
I press the button, allowing her into the building, wondering why she might have come to see me after all this time. We haven’t met since that day she arrived at the flat accusing me and Laurence of having an affair. She was wrong back then. But what aboutnow? What defence can I offer?
I did message her a few times after Laurence and I got together. I asked if we could meet, wanting to apologise, but she never replied. I don’t really blame her. So, Francesca visiting today should be a good thing. A chance for that all-important closure I was seeking. Instead, I’m a bag of nerves.
I glance at myself in the long hall mirror. My curls are tied back off my face which is free of make-up. I’m wearing leggings, a sweatshirt and a pair of chunky socks. I startle at the tap on the door, inhale and stretch out my fingers, then wipe away a bead of sweat from my top lip. I’m so unprepared for this.
Come on, Alice. Just get it over with.
I open the door and try to muster a smile, but all I manage is a tight-lipped grimace.
‘Hello, Alice,’ she says with no emotion.
‘Hi.’ I choke on the word, cough and pat my chest. ‘Sorry, hi. Come in.’ It feels wrong to be welcoming Francesca into what used to be her home. I feel likeI’mthe intruder. This would have been so much easier if we were on neutral ground. I clear my throat. ‘Laurence isn’t here. He’s away for a few days.’
‘I know,’ she replies. ‘I came to seeyou.’
A heaviness settles in my chest. ‘Shall we go into the lounge?’ I gesture for her to go first.
‘Sure.’ She steps into the hall, her gaze sweeping the area. ‘It’s funny how weird it feels to be back,’ she says, almost to herself. ‘But so normal at the same time.’
I follow her down the hall to the living room where her gaze takes in the new additions.
‘Can I get you a drink?’
She shakes her head. ‘No thanks.’
I want to ask her to sit down, but it feels so presumptuous. This was her home. I don’t want to play host. I decide to remain standing for now, hoping she won’t stay long.
‘Francesca, I’m glad you came,’ I say. ‘I’ve been wanting to speak to you for ages. To apologise for how everything went down. I ... I hope you’re doing okay.’ I’m babbling, my hands clasped in front of me while she stands there letting me ramble on. ‘I wanted you to know that none of this was planned. Back then, I honestly had no idea about Laurence’s feelings. I thought the two of you were solid. He was a friend. Nothing more, I promise you.’
‘And now?’ she asks.
I have the good grace to look down as my face heats up. I pick at my fingernails and think about what I should say next. The truth is, there’s nothing I can say to make this any better. Her boyfriend was in love with me and now we’re together.
‘You know what,’ she says. ‘It’s fine. You actually did me a favour.’
I’m blindsided by her words. I’d felt certain she would cry, or shout, or showsomeemotion. But here she is, standing before me, cool as a winter’s day. Perhaps she’s putting it on to let me think she’s okay. To keep her dignity. Well, that’s fine with me. But I wouldn’t mind if she wanted to yell at me. I want her to begenuinely okay. To be over Laurence. To meet someone else and live happily ever after. But if she’s still upset, then I wouldn’t blame her if she wanted to let me know that.
I like Francesca. She’s a sweet girl. She’s never been anything but lovely to me, and she didn’t deserve what happened.
‘The thing is,’ she says, ‘there’s something you should know.’
I don’t like the way she said that. Like she’s about to drop a bombshell. There’s a creeping sensation in the pit of my stomach. I think I might need to sit down. I sink down on to the sofa and gesture to Francesca to do the same. She perches on one of the kitchen stools so that I’m looking up at her.
She’s dressed smarter than usual in black jeans and a forest-green silk top that complements her hazel eyes and caramel hair. I feel scruffy in comparison, which is strange because she’s usually the more casual dresser.
She seems reluctant to elaborate. ‘What’s up?’ I say in a tone lighter than I’m feeling.
She pauses for a moment. ‘I know this is going to come as a bit of a shock, but I think Laurence might have had something to do with what happened to you on your wedding day,’ she says.
The air between us starts to vibrate with a deep, dark, negative energy.