Part 18 (1/2)

'Yes?'

'There's something I want to tell you...'

'Really? What?' I took a deep breath. He glanced sideways at me, then looked down at the tray again, rocking it. 'What is it? You look so serious.'

'Well...at dinner, I said that you'd told me that you were thirty-six. But you didn't tell me that.'

'No. I didn't think I had.'

'That's not how I knew.'

'So how did you know?'

'Because...' I looked at his profile as he tipped the tray this way and that. 'Because...'

'... I look thirty-six, I suppose.'

'No, that's not the reason. It's because... I...' My heart was pounding. 'I...saw it on your website. It said that you were born in 1967. So...so that's how I knew.'

'Oh!' he laughed. 'I thought you were going to say something absolutely terrible! Is that all it is-that you looked at my website?'

'Yes,' I replied. 'Yes, I did.'

'Well,' he laughed again. 'I'm glad. In fact, I feel rather flattered. So is that the end of your ”confession” then?'

'Well, I-'

'Oh look,' he said. 'Here you come...' I stared at the paper as it began to darken and pigment. There was the outline of my hair and my jaw, my lips and now my nose. 'I love this part,' he said. 'The way the image fades up, from invisibility, in front of your eyes. It's like turning up the radio and hearing music.' It was one of the photos he'd taken in the house. I certainly did look 'edgy'. Uncomfortable. Distracted. You could see it. In my eyes. You could see the guilt that I'd carried for so long. I felt as though I certainly had been-yes-exposed.

'David-'

'You look beautiful,' he said suddenly. 'And your expression's fascinating. You look slightly troubled. As though there's something rather complex going on in your head. Or maybe that's still the aftermath of your break-up,' he added softly. I didn't reply. Then he lifted the photograph, as it now was, out of the developer, and slid it into the adjacent tray. 'This is the stop bath,' he explained, as he gently rocked it again. Then he lifted it out and slid it into the next one. 'And this one's the fix. I'll leave it in here while I develop the second negative.' He repeated the process, talking softly all the time, and now I saw myself emerge again, this time with Herman, walking down Primrose Hill; with kites high in the sky behind us, and, in the foreground, a dog just running out of shot. There was so much movement in the image, as though it was a moment frozen from some ongoing drama. 'You look lovely,' he said. 'You look preoccupied,' he added. 'But that only makes it more interesting.' Suddenly we heard the buzz of his door.

'There's your cab. d.a.m.n...he's early.' David rocked this second photo in the fixative, staring at it intently; I was aware of his gentle, regulated breathing as he worked. And I realized that I'd been with him for three and a half hours and hadn't said what I'd wanted to say. I couldn't do it now because the cab was here. So I'd have to see him again. Yes, that was it. I'd simply have to see him again, and then I'd tell him. I'd tell him, and it would be over...

'I'd like to see you again,' I heard him suddenly say. He was still looking at my photo-as though he was addressing that-not me-as he moved it from side to side. 'I'd like to see you again,' he repeated, still talking to my image. We heard the buzzing of the door again, more urgent now. 'Because, you see,' and now he turned his head and looked at me, 'I think you're rather nice. So would that be okay, Miranda?'

I felt as though I were falling, headlong, down a steep incline. 'Yes,' I whispered. 'It would.'

David smiled, then he suddenly leaned towards me, and for a moment I thought he was going to kiss me. But then he pulled on the cord behind me and a white light flooded everything. He lifted out the photograph.

'Good.'

CHAPTER 8.

'You went out to dinner with him?' whispered Daisy on Sunday afternoon. Her eyes were as big as a bush-baby's. 'Dinner? As in, a date?' We were sitting in the Primrose Patisserie, speaking very softly in order not to be overheard-or rather Daisy was. I was simply nodding, which was as much as I could manage communication-wise, given my delicate emotional state. 'So you had a date with him?' she repeated wonderingly. I nodded again. 'But your message just said you were ”seeing” him, so I a.s.sumed that you'd called him. But he'd actually asked you out?' I nodded. She leaned back in her chair. 'Wow!' Then she put down her teacup and leaned forward again. 'He fancies you,' she mouthed. I shrugged. 'He does. Otherwise he wouldn't have done that, would he?' She drew in her breath. 'My G.o.d. This rather complicates things, doesn't it?' she added, matter-of-factly. I nodded again. 'On the other hand,' she mused, her eyes narrowing as she a.s.sessed the situation, 'it might actually make it all easier, given that he clearly likes you. So has he called you again yet?' I shook my head. 'But he said he wants to?' I nodded. 'Then I'm sure he will. He just doesn't want to look too keen. Blimey,' she breathed. Then she giggled. 'What a turn-up.' She had another sip of Earl Grey. 'So, in those circ.u.mstances, I guess you didn't say anything...'

'No,' I murmured, recovering the power of speech now. 'I wanted to. Obviously. In fact, I tried to. But the restaurant was pretty crowded, so clearly I couldn't do it there, and then he asked me back to his flat, and...'

'You went back to his flat? What happened?'

'Well...it was very nice. We just sat on his roof terrace looking at the lights of London, just chatting, or, rather, he did most of it. He said he's never been a great conversationalist but that, for some reason, he likes talking to me. And I was more than happy to listen-he's interesting-and of course I was preoccupied. But there were a couple of moments when we were sitting there when I might have said it, and I did want to,' I sighed. 'I really did...'

'Then why didn't you?' she asked quietly. Why didn't I?

'Because...then we went into his dark room while he developed the photos he'd taken of me and, yes, I did almost tell him then. I knew it would be easier there-just whispering it into the darkness, but...'

'But what?'

I stared at her. 'Somehow the words got stuck in my throat. And he'd ordered a cab for me, so I knew I didn't have much time, and the point is, Daisy, that it's not the kind of thing I could say quickly, is it? So no, I...didn't actually do it, but...'

Daisy gave me a piercing look. 'I know why you didn't,' she said. 'It's obvious. I've just realized. You didn't tell him-because you like him-don't you?'

I fiddled with the sugar bowl. 'I don't really...know.' 'You do,' she insisted with another giggle. 'I can tell. You can't hide it from me, Miranda. I know you too well.'

'Okay, then. Yes. I do like him. Or rather-I'm...drawn to him. And so, all right, I admit that I didn't want to blurt it out and spoil a lovely evening-'

'Or the possibility of seeing him again...?' I looked at her. 'That's it, isn't it, Miranda? Isn't it?'

I shrugged, drew in a deep breath, then slowly nodded. 'Yes,' I said. 'You're right. That's why I chickened out. Because I knew that if I told him, that would be it.'

Daisy was chewing her bottom lip. 'Oh. Dear. You didn't expect this when you went looking for David, did you?'

'No. I didn't.' There was silence for a moment.

'Well, I guess you'll have to bite the bullet at some stage.'

'Hmm. Grasp the nettle.'

'Especially if you're thinking you might...get involved with him.' Involved with him. My heart rolled over. 'So maybe next time, then?'

I felt suddenly happy, almost to the point of euphoria. 'Yes. Maybe next time. That's right.' Let there be a next time. 'Now, what about you?' I thought of Daisy's wedding dress, encased in its velvet bag like a b.u.t.terfly in its coc.o.o.n. 'Have you spoken to Nigel?'

'Not...quite.'

'By which, I presume, you mean ”No”.'

'Well, I had to work all day yesterday on a pitch we're doing for this guy's fiftieth-he wants an Arabian Nights theme with camels and belly-dancers-then Nige had a bridge tournament last night. Then this morning he went into work because he's got a new head of department and he's very keen to impress him because, as I say, he wants to get Equity Partners.h.i.+p, and so...' her voice trailed away. 'But I will,' she said. 'Soon.' An awkward silence descended, in which I was aware of a distant yapping. Daisy looked past me, over my left shoulder.

'There's a man standing outside, gesticulating at you. He's holding the most enormous bunch of flowers. Perhaps he's going to act on impulse.'

I turned round. 'That's Marcus.' I waved and he came in.

'h.e.l.lo, Miranda.' He was holding a ma.s.sive bouquet of stargazer lilies, while Twiglet was tucked into his jumper as usual, his paws hooked over the V-neck. 'Twiggers spotted you first and started barking. He just wanted to say ”hi” to his teacher.' I stroked Twiglet and got a kiss on the nose, then he suddenly leaped into Daisy's outstretched arms.

'Oh look-Twiglet's made a new friend.'