Greenwich Park, Katherine Faulkner [ereader android .txt] 📗

‘We were planning to have lunch,’ Katie says. ‘But it looks like they’re full.’

‘Come and sit here, with me!’

I glance at Rachel’s table. She has bagged the best spot in the cafe, right by the window, exactly where I had hoped we could sit. But the thought of her joining us makes my heart sink.

Rachel looks at me and her face clouds over, as if she has read my thoughts. ‘Oh, I’m sorry – I’m barging in.’ She forces a fake laugh, looks down at the floor, starts to fold the newspaper up in her hands. ‘Here,’ she says, gesturing jerkily at the table. ‘You two take it. I was going anyway. I can pay at the counter.’

Rachel keeps folding the newspaper until it is too thick and won’t fold any more. There is something about her movements that makes the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.

Katie takes a step towards her, places her hand lightly on her arm. ‘Don’t be silly, Rachel,’ she says warmly. ‘It would be lovely to have lunch together. If you are sure you don’t mind us joining you?’ She looks at me. ‘What do you think, Helen?’

Rachel looks at Katie, and then at me.

‘Will I be in the way? Say if I will.’

Soon enquiries are being made about spare seats, tables being shifted, a chair being found and wheeled over the heads of other diners. Rachel and I sit in the comfortable seats, facing one another, Katie takes the rickety chair, another diner squashed up against her back.

‘How far along are you, Rachel?’ Katie asks.

‘Everyone in the antenatal class is due in the same month,’ I answer for her. I can’t stop my voice from sounding defensive.

‘Oh, right.’

‘Don’t worry, some people just carry a lot bigger than others,’ Rachel tells Katie in a hushed voice, glancing at me. ‘So anyway – you must be the journalist! Look – I’ve just been reading your article! It’s such a weird coincidence!’ Rachel retrieves her newspaper and waves it at Katie. ‘Helen told me all about you, about your court case. I literally just bought the paper to check it out!’

She opens the paper to an inside spread, with Katie’s name at the top. There are pictures of the two accused arriving at court, both holding the hands of their pretty girlfriends, flanked by their parents and lawyers. There is no picture of the victim – I suppose they’re not allowed.

Rachel taps on the paper with her chipped fingernail. ‘It’s unbelievable, this stuff. Tell me everything about it, Katie. Seriously, everything. I like to know all the details.’

Hesitantly, Katie starts to talk about the case. I shift in my seat as she recounts the facts of the case, trying not to think too hard about how much it reminds me of what happened before. Rachel is rapt, her eyes wide, mouth slightly open. As I watch her, I try to think whether I told her I was meeting Katie here today. I can’t have done. Can I?

When the waiter arrives, Rachel orders a smoked salmon, cream cheese and dill baguette with a large hot chocolate, followed by a chocolate brownie. She goes out to smoke cigarettes twice during our lunch, situating herself directly outside the window and grinning and waving as she does so, as if she wants to keep an eye on us. We smile back, uncomfortably.

When she returns from her second cigarette break, Katie and I order another coffee and camomile tea. Rachel abruptly announces that she is leaving. ‘I’ve got so much stuff to do, it’s literally crazy,’ she says, as if we have been the ones keeping her. There is a little dusting of chocolate powder on her cheek.

Rachel reaches for her wallet, throws a fifty-pound note down on the table. Katie stares at her.

‘That’s too much.’

‘Oh, don’t worry.’ Rachel grins magnanimously, waving Katie’s objection away. ‘I’ve had such a nice time.’ It feels oddly as if she is tipping us.

Before she leaves, Rachel sucks me into a huge bear hug. The embrace lasts longer than I expect it to, as if she won’t be seeing me for a while. Chance would be a fine thing, I find myself thinking.

‘Thanks so much for letting me crash your lunch,’ she says. ‘You’re both so sweet. Can’t wait to read your next article, Katie.’ She makes an odd gesture at Katie with her thumb and forefinger, the finger pointed, the thumb bent slightly – somewhere between a thumbs up and a gun gesture. Then she turns and pushes the door open, a little too hard, so that it bangs against the outside wall, shuddering on its hinges. And then she is gone, the little bell jangling behind her.

I watch her cross the park, keeping my eyes on her slim outline as she walks past the playground, where schoolchildren in brand-new uniforms are dropping reading folders as they race towards the swings.

‘She seems nice,’ Katie says.

I cringe. ‘She’s a bit full-on. I’m sorry. I didn’t know she would be here. Obviously.’

‘It’s fine. It was nice to meet her.’

Both Katie and I are still staring after her, as her figure disappears into the park. For some reason, I feel I want to be sure she is really gone.

HELEN

In the end, I stop trying to arrange to meet my work friends. After one lunch is cancelled at the last minute, then another, I get the message. People are busy, too busy for me, anyway. I’ve already been forgotten.

My appointments are more frequent now, my blood pressure causing concern. Midwives bend to check my ankles for signs of swelling, ask frowning questions about dizziness, shortness of breath. On the way home, I feel the anxiety ebb away a little. Then, day by day, it edges up, and up, until the next time.

I find myself stretching out mundane activities into hours, sometimes whole afternoons, in order to fill up my time, try to take my mind off