What did I know about Dev? He was kind and funny, a good cook and a good listener. He cared about people so much he’d made it his career and when I closed my eyes, all I could see were flashes of the night before, his hands, his mouth, his body against mine. It was entirely worth the almost twenty-year wait. Every time we saw each other, he told me the truth when I asked for it. Dev had shown me who he was, I didn’t need to guess, he was an open book.
Which left only me.
I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. When someone waved a red flag you were supposed to stop, not wave back and keep on going because the map you’d been following for ages told you to. Roads changed, bridges crumbled. Old maps needed to be replaced with new ones. Sometimes you had to find a new way to get to your destination.
Sipping my tea, I felt the chilly wind on my face and breathed in.
All this time I thought I was in control, but like so much else in my life, that control was an illusion. Manny had been right to throw my Ronan Keating CD out the bedroom window when I was ten, and not only because it wasn’t very good but because Ronan was peddling a dangerous message to impressionable youths. Life was not a rollercoaster and you did not just have to ride it. It was more like one of those rental scooters that had popped up around the city: mostly fun, sometimes unpredictable, but frequently impossible to control and occasionally trying to kill you.
A robin landed on the fence at the bottom of the garden, hopping back and forth and showing off his scarlet waistcoat before taking off into the Joneses’ garden. I smiled, hoping he might land on Dev’s windowsill. If he didn’t have any telly to watch, the least the universe could do was send him a bird to keep him entertained. It hurt, knowing he wouldn’t remember the night before when he woke up, but I couldn’t change that. There was no point breaking my heart about something I had no control over. Like Manny always said, what’s for you won’t go by you. If we were meant to be, we’d find a way.
Finishing my tea, I stood up and stretched.
The funny thing about reliving the same day over and over was that the only person who had to live with the consequences of my actions was me. Nothing really mattered anymore.
And when nothing matters, it’s much easier to see what really does.
‘I’ve got an announcement to make.’
I tapped my knife against the side of my glass once we’d finished our mains, the whole family sat around the table, lolling in a tryptophan daze.
‘You’re going to burn that awful dress?’ Nan guessed, raising her wine in my direction. ‘I support your decision entirely.’
‘No,’ I replied, glancing over at Dad and reminding myself that whatever happened, the chances of it sticking tomorrow morning were slim to none. I could do this. ‘I’m leaving Abbott & Howe.’
No one said anything at first. Manny reached for my hand under the table and gave it a squeeze, Oliver and Cerys shared a smirk and Mum looked straight at my dad, bypassing me completely. Nan refilled her glass and shrugged.
‘I don’t see how that helps you get that frock out of your life but all right. Cheers to your future.’
‘You’re leaving?’ Dad said slowly, as though he was struggling to make two and two equal four.
‘Yes, Dad.’
‘You’ve been headhunted?’ he guessed, a slim thread of hope in his voice. ‘Denton Henry have offered you partnership?’
‘No, Dad.’
‘Then where are you going? Why would you leave?’
It was a good question but I had a good answer.
‘Because I don’t want to be there,’ I told him, thinking back to my conversation with Dev. ‘And I don’t have to stay. I’ve got a little bit of money saved up, it’s not like I’m spending a lot on rent right now, and I’ll find anotherjob. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it and I’ve made a decision. It isn’t the right place for me.’
I waited for a rush of triumph, a clean and clear internal sign that I’d done the right thing. But all I felt was the unpleasant queasiness that came from eating too many potatoes.
Mum stood up, grabbing empty plates and stacking them loudly on top of each other.
‘I’m going to clear the table,’ she declared. ‘Gwen, help me put them in the kitchen? We can talk about this later.’
‘No, I’m afraid I don’t understand,’ Dad said, placing a hand on my forearm before I could make a move to help her. ‘You can’t just leave a job. Not when you haven’t got another one to go to.’
‘She can if she’s been sacked,’ Oliver muttered into his napkin.
‘Hardly,’ Dad snapped. ‘She’s on track to be the youngest partner in the company’s history.’
‘Youngest female partner,’ Oliver corrected. ‘My friend Felix Johnson made partner at thirty-three. And I very much doubt she’s looking at promotion since … the incident.’
‘Felix Johnson whose dad is a senior partner,’ I replied calmly. ‘And I wasn’t sacked. Technically, I’m on leave.’