Greenwich Park by Katherine Faulkner (read book txt) 📗

He shrugs. ‘We’ve only just got here.’

I turn and look at him. ‘Daniel, is something wrong? You’re being so short with me.’

He looks at me, then at the floor. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mutters. ‘I’m just stressed about work. And I know you’re cross with me about coming home late.’

He looks so dejected, like a little boy.

‘I don’t mean to give you a hard time,’ I say. I take his hand. ‘I just need you at the moment, that’s all. And all this Rachel stuff doesn’t help.’

He sighs, pulls me to him. I’m so big he can barely hold me close.

‘I know,’ he says. ‘I’m sorry. I promise I’ll do better at being around, all right?’

I exhale, feeling tears gathering in my eyes. ‘Thank you,’ I murmur into his shoulder. When he pulls away, I blink the tears back, try to smile. He takes my hand.

Rory and Serena have been away in Italy. She has been posting pictures on Instagram of their holiday, a hotel painted in bright opal colours, a turquoise sea. In one of them she is sitting in a jacuzzi, even though the books tell you not to during pregnancy. I couldn’t see her bump in it. I’m looking forward to seeing her, seeing whether she is looking bigger now, like me. If her baby is early, it is not inconceivable that it could even come before mine.

While Daniel stares at the first photograph, I crane my neck around the room, but I can’t see Serena. I grab a glass of orange juice from a passing waiter and follow Daniel around, trying to look like I’m deep in thought.

Eventually I get bored of going at Daniel’s pace, so I skip a few pictures ahead. I need to find one photograph and think of something to say about it if I need to. Not this one – I can’t actually quite see what it is supposed to be. It looks like something wet and bumpy, like the back of an avocado, or a snakeskin handbag. Something reptilian. Glancing to the side first, I cheat and look at the little card next to the light box. Cobbles on the mews in rain, it says. It doesn’t give a price.

I try the next photograph. It is an image of a slender man, almost in silhouette, leaning against the wall of their upstairs balcony. Behind him the city is a mass of light, and his face is in darkness, a plume of smoke escaping from his lips. It takes me a moment to recognise the outline as Daniel’s. He doesn’t look like my Daniel. He looks strange, unknowable. The outline of his face seems no more human than the squiggle of the London skyline.

The picture gives me a strange feeling. When was it taken? I look at the card, but it says simply: Untitled. There is a little red dot next to it, to indicate that it has been sold. I turn to Daniel, to ask him about it. Only then do I notice that he seems to have taken off somewhere.

‘Helen! So good to see you!’ Serena is beside us all of a sudden, a column of silk and perfume. She is bigger now, her bump cocooned in the pale, shimmering fabric of her dress, round and perfect, like a huge pearl.

She kisses me, her soft cheek brushing against mine. ‘I can’t believe you came – you must be so fed up. How long are they letting you go over?’

‘Only until Sunday.. Or it’s the dreaded induction.’

We grimace at each other.

‘Poor you.’

‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘I hope he gets a move on soon. Did you have a good holiday?’

‘The best.’

‘I’m glad. You look great.’ I hesitate. Should I mention Rachel? I wonder whether the police have been to see her or Rory. I decide not to bring it up. Instead, I gesture at the photographs. ‘This is all amazing – as usual. You’re so talented.’

Serena beams. ‘You’re so sweet, Helen. Thank you.’

I glance at the photograph next to us again, the one of Daniel. I’m about to ask her about it but I see her expression flicker, as if there’s something she’s just remembered.

‘Helen, do you want to get out of here? Come over for some tea or something? It’d be good to catch up. Properly.’

‘Now? What about your party? Won’t people be surprised –’

‘Oh, no, it doesn’t matter about all that,’ she says, dismissing the gallery guests with a wave of her hand. ‘Renata will get people’s details if they’re interested and everyone knows I’m pregnant. Come on.’ She takes my arm. ‘It’s so boring anyway. It’s all just bankers and hedgies. None of them have a clue.’

‘Well, all right, but I’d better tell Daniel –’

‘He won’t mind,’ she says quickly. I can’t see where he has gone. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’

Outside, it is so cold it makes me gasp, my breath escaping in tiny clouds. I struggle to keep up with Serena as she strides up Maze Hill, the wind stinging my cheeks. It is a relief to step into the familiar glow of her home, the warmth of their front room. I perch at the seat in the bay window while Serena makes tea in the kitchen.

The photograph of Serena and her bridesmaids is in its usual place on the mantelpiece. It’s an image I have looked at so many times that I could probably paint its likeness from memory, but still, I can’t resist hauling myself up and picking it up for a closer look, feeling the heavy silver weight of it, the familiar moss-like softness of the fabric mounted on the back. I know from experience that my thumbs will leave marks on the edges of the frame that I will have to wipe carefully before Serena is back in the room.

When the photographs of Serena’s wedding came back from their photographer, there was not a single one like this of her and me. There were lots of the bridesmaids. I suppose they were