'Personal reasons,' said Erika again.
Had Erika told Oliver what she'd overheard Clementine say? The thought of kind, honourable Oliver, who had always been so unfailingly polite to Clementine, whose face lit up when he saw her children, hearing Clementine's remarks made her want to cry. She thought of the sound Oliver had made when he revived Ruby: that animal-like whimper of relief.
She put down her cup on the coffee table and slid off the couch, falling to her knees in front of Erika. The sneaker fell onto the floor. 'Erika, please let me do it. Please.'
'Stop that,' said Erika. She looked appalled. 'Get up. You're reminding me of my mother. That's exactly the sort of thing she does. That sneaker is under the couch now, by the way. You'll lose it again.'
She sounded crotchety but somehow revived. The colour was back in her cheeks.
Clementine found the sneaker and sat back up. She picked up her coffee, sipped it and met Erika's eyes over the rim.
'Idiot,' said Erika.
'Dummkopf,' muttered Clementine into her mug.
'Arschlich,' spat out Erika. 'No. That's not it. Arschloch.'
'Good one,' said Clementine. 'You big Vollidiot.'
Erika smiled. 'I forgot that one,' she said. 'And verpiss dich, by the way.'
'Piss off yourself,' said Clementine.
'I thought it meant "fuck off",' said Erika.
'You'd know better than me,' said Clementine. 'You're the one who got the higher mark.'
'Too right I did,' agreed Erika.
Clementine blinked back tears of laughter or grief, she wasn't sure which. It was strange, because she always felt that she hid herself from Erika, that she was more 'herself' with her 'true' friends, where the friendship flowed in an ordinary, uncomplicated, grown-up fashion (emails, phone calls, drinks, dinners, banter and jokes that everyone got), but right now it felt like none of those friends knew her the raw, ugly, childish, basic way that Erika did.
'Anyway, the truth is I'm ambivalent,' said Erika. She tipped back her head and drank her coffee in virtually one gulp. It was one of her quirks. She drank coffee like she was doing a shot.
'What do you mean?'
'I never especially wanted to have children, as you know, as people keep reminding me. That's why Oliver is the one driving this. I feel ambivalent.' It was like she'd only recently settled on the word 'ambivalent' and wanted to use it as much as possible. She was staying on message like a politician. She pointed a warning finger at Clementine. 'My ambivalence, by the way, is confidential.'
'Yes, of course. But if you don't really want a baby, you should tell him! You shouldn't have a child just for him. It's your choice!'
'Yes, and I choose my marriage,' said Erika. 'That's my choice: my marriage.' She stood up. 'Oliver's dream is to have a baby and I'm not going to make him give that up.' She picked up her bag. 'Oh, by the way!' Her tone changed, and became brittle. 'I was going through an old box of memorabilia the other day, and I found this necklace. I think it was yours.'
She pulled out an extremely ugly shell necklace and held it up.
'It's not mine,' said Clementine. 'I always hated those necklaces.'
'I'm pretty sure - well, maybe I'm wrong.' Erika went to put the necklace back in the bag. 'But maybe the girls would like it?'
She was giving Clementine a strange, piercing look, as if this really mattered. She was the oddest woman. 'Sure. Thanks.' Clementine took the necklace. She wouldn't let the girls play with it. It didn't look that clean and it would be like wearing barbed wire around your neck.
Erika looked relieved, as if she'd wiped her hands of something. 'I hope your practice goes well. Only ten days until the audition, right?'
'Right,' said Clementine.
> 'How's it going?'
'Not that great. I've found it hard to focus. Everything that happened - Sam and I - just ... well, you know.'
'Time to knuckle down then,' said Erika briskly. 'This is your dream, Dummkopf.'