And I know I can’t, because everything’s changed, not least our relationship.

Most of al I want him to read the diary to get to know Cecily, to see what she was like, to hear her voice. I want more people to know her. Ben would get her. He’d like her.

‘Look,’ he says, cutting into my thoughts. ‘I can’t stay.’ He takes something out of his back pocket. ‘I just came to give you something.’

‘Oh,’ I say. ‘Right.’

‘I had these printed out for you,’ he says, handing me a manila envelope. ‘But I didn’t get round to giving them to you . . . They came out pretty wel considering how much we’d drunk.’

I tip the envelope open. ‘Oh . . . wow,’ I say, grinning. ‘I’d forgotten, thank you so much.’

They’re the photos of the necklace Claire, that girl in the Ten Bel s, was wearing on Thursday, the necklace I’ve been working on adapting, using Cecily’s ring and some of the duck-egg-blue laser-cut birds I’m waiting for today. I gaze at them with pleasure. He’s had them properly printed, with white edges, and each shows the necklace perfectly. I flick through them.

‘Thank you so much, Ben,’ I say, gathering them up. ‘They’re – wow, they’re just what I needed. You are great.’ I glance at the last one. ‘Oh.

That’s of me!’

I am raising my glass, my hair fal ing over my shoulders, and I am smiling, clearly one or two drinks up. He looks at it, and the muscle on his now-smooth cheek twitches again.

‘Oh. Yes, it is,’ he says. He pauses, just a second. ‘Yes – I thought you’d like one with Cecily’s ring on it, to see how it looks next to the others.’

‘That’s great, Ben, thanks so much.’ I come round to his side of the counter and squeeze his arm. ‘You’re a great man.’ I look at him again.

‘With short hair.’

He laughs, but there’s a terseness to his tone. ‘Right. Look—’

‘Thanks again,’ I say, as he turns to leave. Emboldened by this new, more friendly footing, I say, ‘Um – do you want to grab some lunch, or something? I’d love to tel you about the diary. Get your advice, and . . .’

I trail off. Ben looks down at the photos in my hand. ‘I don’t think so,’ he says gently. ‘Nat, I think you kind of need to talk to Oli, or Jay or someone, about that stuff first, not me.’

Taking a little step back, I nod. ‘F-fine,’ I say. ‘You’re right. But – honestly, Ben, it real y is over with me and Oli. I’ve moved in with Jay. It was –

he did come round that night, but he shouldn’t have. It’s over,’ I say, not real y knowing why I say it. ‘It real y is.’

The tension in the room is suddenly palpable. ‘I wasn’t asking if it was or it wasn’t,’ Ben says. He taps his forehead furiously with one finger, as if he’s trying to release something in his brain. ‘Nat – I’m not stupid. You don’t need any more complications in your life at the moment. Once again

– I’m sorry I was a cock. We were drunk, I shouldn’t have said that stuff to you, and everything else, that night. Let’s just forget about it.’

And everything else. I am blindsided. ‘Right, then.’

‘Glad you like the photos. See you soon.’

He closes the door gently behind him once again, raising his hand as a farewel . I watch the closed door. I want to run after him, put him right, but what would I say? Yes, I slept with Oli, yes, we were drunk, no, I’ve no idea what’s going on in my life, yes, I like you, I’ve always real y liked you.

But you shouldn’t trust my opinion about anything. I don’t.

I get my sketchpad out, tugging my hair and staring intently at the photos of the necklace. I cal Charlotte at Emilia’s Sister, to say how pleased I am about the order. I try Guy again: ‘Hi, Guy. Look, I read the diary – Mum’s gone away, she said she’d told you, just wondering if we could chat? Give me a cal .’

In the afternoon, guests start arriving for Lily’s open studio. I can hear sounds of chatter and laughter floating through the open window, down the corridor. I don’t hear Ben leave; perhaps he’s there too. When the charms arrive by messenger from Rolfie’s, I thread them onto what I’ve already assembled, making up two, three, different versions of the necklace, trying each out with Cecily’s ring. I make notes, I change bits around. I prop the photos up next to my stool and sketch on, waiting for someone to cal me back, but the phone is silent.

Chapter Forty-One

The days pass by easily at Jay’s. I fal into a rhythm there almost immediately. We know each other wel , we can happily watch TV together or separately. Cathy can come round and hang out with both of us, just like the old days. Jay is laid-back about everything, to the point of being comatose sometimes, and I feel like Louisa, picking up his cereal bowls and dirty socks after he’s left for work in the morning. I love it. I’m sleeping like a log. It isn’t so cold, it’s April now, and the days are warmer, the nights fresh and it’s quiet around our side of De Beauvoir Square, but a contented quiet, not the silence of an empty flat. We stay up late into the night watching films, taking it in turns to pick. Last night I chose Tootsie.

The night before Jay made me watch The Bourne Identity, which I’ve never seen. I could have done without him making exploding noises at the exact moment onscreen that someone gets shot or blown up, but otherwise it was great.

I used to wish I could live alone. Now, I am relishing living with my cousin. It’s great to know someone wil be there when you get back home.

And even if they’re not, that they’l be back eventual y. With Oli, it got to a stage where even though he was there, he wasn’t real y present. There were so many things we couldn’t discuss, didn’t discuss: Should we move to a bigger place? When should we have children? Why are you never around any more?

Anyway, it is with surprise one Saturday that I look round and realise it’s April, and I’m going back to Cornwal the fol owing week, for the launch of the foundation.

Yesterday, I had a cal from Emilia’s Sister. Charlotte, the owner, said she had to cal , because they’d sold eight necklaces that Friday alone –

that doesn’t sound like much, but it’s a classic Columbia Road shop, one that does most of its business on Saturday and Sunday, so that’s pretty good news, amazing in fact. Earlier in the week, I found out I had a place at that business seminar I signed up for. It’s in a couple of weeks. It’s free, and as far as I’m concerned, I need al the help that I can get.

It’s funny, but once you admit you’ve screwed up and don’t know what comes next, it’s easier to accept help. I have had my own business for a couple of years, and it’s only now I realise how much I have to learn, look it square in the face. It’s scary. But scary in a good way. I’ve been used, these past months, to scary in a bad way. A swirling mist of uncertainty, of misery and sadness that hung on my shoulders like a heavy cloak and which I could never seem to shake off. Every day it seems to get lighter.

Jay and I have lunch at a Vietnamese café round the corner from his flat. I’m meeting Cathy later, we’re going to see a film and then for a bite to eat afterwards so I can hear about Jonathan, who has suggested they go away on a Strictly Come Dancing weekend featuring the stars of the show in a country manor house. He says it’l be good networking for him. (Cathy is torn between being total y convinced he must be gay and secretly desperately wanting to go, as Strictly is her and her mum’s favourite TV programme.) I want an early night, it’s my first day back on the market stal tomorrow and I need to get there in good time, make sure I’ve got my act together.

After we’ve ordered, Jay says, ‘I spoke to Dad while you were getting the paper.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ I say. ‘He says Miranda went, like, last Monday. Ten, twelve days ago.’

‘I know, that was the day I moved in with you.’ I love how precise Archie is, he has al the information.

‘Wel , she’s not coming back til Tuesday.’ He puts his elbows on the table. ‘Did you know that?’

‘No,’ I say. I cross my arms. That’s two weeks she’s been away, why on earth? ‘Jay, I told you, I tried and tried to get hold of her before she went off to Fez, or wherever it is. I’ve cal ed her, OK? I’l see her next week, when we go back to Summercove.’ I bite my lip.

‘Al right!’ He holds up his hands. ‘Calm down. It’s going to be weird,’ he says.

‘I know. And kind of awful. Are you sure you won’t come?’ I ask, begging with my hands outstretched. He shakes his head.

‘Nah. Don’t mean to be funny, and I’l come if you real y want me to, but I’m not invited. We should go down in May, you know? Before it’s sold.

Have one more weekend there. I don’t want to be there with al those art people, al of that. Dad’s dreading it.’

He’s right. I’m not much looking forward to it. Since I moved to Jay’s, everything seems to be on a more even keel. Going to Cornwal is going to bring it al back again. I’m being a coward, I have to face up to it, real y, have to ask the questions I don’t have answers to. And it’l be good in many ways. I’l see Louisa. I’l see Arvind. I’l see the house, perhaps for the last time? Perhaps not. And I’l see my mum – although God knows if she’l turn up or not, even if she is supposed to be making a speech.

As for Guy, I haven’t heard back from him, so I’l see him there too. I don’t know what to say to him, either. I suppose I just have to wait til he wants to talk to me. I don’t understand why he’s gone silent.

‘Is your mum going?’ I ask hopeful y. ‘No, she’l be in Mumbai, won’t she?’ Sameena’s sister is not wel again, so she’s going over to look after her family. ‘Like I say, Nat,’ Jay says again. ‘If you need me to be there, I’l be there. It’s just hard with work and everything. I’d rather go when I can spend some proper time with Arvind, remember the house the way I want to, not with a load of posh people asking me stupid questions about Granny.’ The waitress puts two beers down on the table and Jay takes a big gulp. ‘I wouldn’t know what to say to them, anyway, would you?’ I shake my head. ‘It’s private. Her being our grandmother hasn’t got anything to do with whether she was a good painter or any of that.’