‘I think so. Tom … finds it difficult to switch off sometimes. From work I mean. But yes, he enjoyed the trip.’
Ewan smiled. ‘That’s good then.’
I sipped my coffee to hide a moment of awkwardness at discussing Tom with Ewan.
‘I’m glad I was able to keep you company before he arrived that day,’ Ewan said.
At his words I had a flash of memory about our previous meetings.
Ewan had been in Harrods the day I found the purple satin bedding. We’d struck up a conversation and he’d bought the same bedding. A few days later I found myself in his company in Reykjavik. I’d let him take me to dinner because Tom had been delayed by a problem at work and had yet to join me in Iceland.
I’d thought it quite a coincidence meeting the man again, but he had been kind, and his behaviour offered friendship and nothing more and so I’d agreed.
I took a sip of coffee now with a shaking hand. As I caught his eye I found myself talking, my words falling out in a rush. At that moment I understood just how much I needed a friend. ‘It was very nice of you,’ I said. ‘I was quite … lonely.’
I burst into tears then. I couldn’t believe I had admitted to a virtual stranger that I felt this way. It was unfathomable and embarrassing. Ewan, far from being surprised or shocked, took my hand and held it. He handed me a linen handkerchief from his pocket, and I mopped up the flow of tears with a sigh of utter exhaustion.
‘Would you like to talk about it?’ he asked when I finally fell quiet.
‘It’s silly. Probably hormones. You see, I just found out that I’m pregnant.’
‘And this is a surprise?’
‘It shouldn’t be. We were, sort of, trying. But I didn’t think it would happen so soon. I mean, it seems to take other people months.’
‘That’s usually the way when you aren’t ready,’ Ewan said.
For the first time I began to wonder about Ewan’s age. He appeared to be only a few years my senior, yet spoke so wisely, more than his thirty-something years might suggest. He was right, of course, I didn’t feel ready to be a mother. And, despite my protestations that this was probably just hormones, I was often lonely. I had everything I could possibly want, and yet I lacked something.
As we sat and talked, I felt happier than I had done in years. He talked to me as if I was his equal, someone whose opinions were important. A feeling I didn’t always have in my marriage. The afternoon passed by too quickly and I realized that I needed time to get home to make dinner for Tom. He would possibly want to celebrate with champagne – though I couldn’t have any now – and some form of romantic, robust dinner.
‘I have to go,’ I said to Ewan, ‘but thank you for being so kind.’
‘Take my number,’ he said. ‘That way, if you need a friend to talk to who isn’t judgemental, you’ll have one.’
I was about to refuse, but his warm smile – and his genuine compassion – made me pause. I found myself pulling my mobile out of my handbag. There was something so appealing about his offer of unconditional friendship and the way he looked at me, with an honest and open expression, which made me consider he probably was the only one in the world I could talk to. The guilt came again. I shouldn’t think this about anyone other than Tom. What was wrong with me?
‘Okay, what’s the number?’
I sent him a text so that he could store my number as well.
‘I really have to go …’
‘Goodbye for now, Charlotte,’ he said. He stood as I did, and then gave me a hug and a soft kiss on the cheek.
I was a little shy about the contact, but thanked him again to cover any awkwardness, then I left the coffee shop and hurried out into the busy London streets.
It was rush hour and therefore the worst time of day to find a taxi or to travel quickly by tube. Even so, I hurried towards the nearest tube station just as it started to rain. A real summer downpour. I didn’t have an umbrella with me, and my hair was soaked in seconds. The water dripped down into my eyes. I faltered a little as I joined a large group of tourists waiting for the traffic lights to change. Thoughts of Ewan leaning closer and kissing me, the warmth of his smile, all brought a shiver to my spine. The pavement was too crowded, and most of the people, as is always the case in London city centre, appeared to be in a massive hurry.
As soon as the lights changed the crowd surged forwards. The first wave of people rushed across the road.
I don’t know what happened. One minute I was about to step off the pavement the next I was being jostled. I lost my footing, stumbled, and time seemed to slow down. I saw a bird fly overhead, a pigeon wheeling in the sky as though it were about to dive in a suicidal swoop towards the ground. Horns blared. I heard a female voice cry out. And then – a hand pressed into my back. As though someone had reached out to stop me, or perhaps also lost their footing, and then I fell forwards, unable to stop myself – right into the bus lane.
‘Charlotte?’
A rush of sound filled my ears, like air whipping through the branches of a tree. A screech of brakes. Then I heard Tom’s angry voice, ‘What the fuck is this, Char?’
I opened my eyes and looked up into Isadora’s concerned face.
‘Tom! Quickly! She’s awake!’
Tom’s face came into blurred view. He had a deep frown on his normally smooth brow.
‘Char. Darling …’
‘Where am I?’ I croaked.
I felt as though I’d been in a serious battle with a heavyweight boxer. I had another flash – a memory – of Tom’s flustered, angry face as he had stared at the sheets in my hands. I don’t understand why you’re so cross. It’s just new bedding!
‘Have some water,’ Isadora offered, and before I could agree or refuse a straw was pushed into my mouth. ‘You’re in A & E.’
I sipped the water and it did ease my throat.
‘What happened?’ I asked.
I was in some kind of booth with a curtain drawn around us.
‘You were … you had an accident,’ Tom said. ‘You fell. In front of a bus.’
I had another flashback then, of the double-decker tourist bus, brakes screeching, as it careered towards me. I shuddered. I didn’t remember the vehicle hitting me or anything else after that moment. Just this sense of freefalling as I fell onto the road. I remember getting back up off the ground seconds before the bus hit me. I was thrown aside, cracking my head on the kerb.
‘You were lucky,’ said Isadora.
‘Lucky?’ said Tom. ‘What on earth were you doing crossing the road like that?’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘A witness said you just ran out. Without looking,’ Tom said.
‘No. That isn’t what happened. I walked out, with a group of people. One of them … jostled me. Or maybe they tripped and pushed me …’
‘You’re saying someone pushed you?’ asked Tom, and there was something about his expression that made me go quiet for a moment. I thought it through and decided I couldn’t be sure what had actually happened and so it was best not to commit.
‘No … It was raining.