07 Doors (2)

‘You hate Coldplay.’

‘Not the point. We could be in Malibu. Instead: Bedford. And so, no, your brother’s not ready to see you.’

‘I was having panic attacks. I’d have let everyone down in the end. I told the label to take you on without me. I agreed to write the songs. It wasn’t my fault I was engaged. I was with Dan. It was kind of a deal-breaker.’

‘Well, yeah. How did that work out?’

‘Ravi, that isn’t fair.’

‘Fair. Great word.’

The woman behind the counter gawped with interest.

‘Bands don’t last. We’d have been a meteor shower. Over before we started.’

‘Meteor showers are fucking beautiful.’

‘Come on. You’re still with Ella, aren’t you?’

‘And I could be with Ella and in a successful band, with money. We had that chance. Right there.’ He pointed to the palm of his hand. ‘Our songs were fire.’

Nora hated herself for silently correcting the ‘our’ to ‘my’.

‘I don’t think your problem was stage fright. Or wedding fright. I think your problem was life fright.’

This hurt. The words took the air out of her.

‘And I think your problem,’ she retaliated, voice trembling, ‘is blaming others for your shitty life.’

He nodded, as if slapped. Put his magazine back.

‘See you around, Nora.’

‘Tell Joe I said hi,’ she said, as he walked out of the shop and into the rain. ‘Please.’

She caught sight of the cover of Your Cat magazine. A ginger tabby. Her mind felt loud, like a Sturm und Drang symphony, as if the ghost of a German composer was trapped inside her mind, conjuring chaos and intensity.

The woman behind the counter said something to her she missed.

‘Sorry?’

‘Nora Seed?’

The woman – blonde bob, bottle tan – was happy and casual and relaxed in a way Nora no longer knew how to be. Leaning over the counter, on her forearms, as if Nora was a lemur at the zoo.

‘Yep.’

‘I’m Kerry-Anne. Remember you from school. The swimmer. Super-brain. Didn’t whatshisface, Mr Blandford, do an assembly on you once? Said you were going to end up at the Olympics?’

Nora nodded.

‘So, did you?’

‘I, um, gave it up. Was more into music . . . at the time. Then life happened.’

‘So what do you do now?’

‘I’m . . . between things.’

‘Got anyone, then? Bloke? Kids?’

Nora shook her head. Wishing it would fall off. Her own head. Onto the floor. So she never had to have a conversation with a stranger ever again.

‘Well, don’t hang about. Tick-tock tick-tock.’

‘I’m thirty-five.’ She wished Izzy was here. Izzy never put up with any of this kind of shit. ‘And I’m not sure I want—’

‘Me and Jake were like rabbits but we got there. Two little terrors. But worth it, y’know? I just feel complete. I could show you some pictures.’

‘I get headaches, with . . . phones.’

Dan had wanted kids. Nora didn’t know. She’d been petrified of motherhood. The fear of a deeper depression. She couldn’t look after herself, let alone anyone else.

‘Still in Bedford, then?’

‘Mm-hm.’

‘Thought you’d be one who got away.’

‘I came back. My mum was ill.’

‘Aw, sorry to hear that. Hope she’s okay now?’

‘I better go.’

‘But it’s still raining.’

As Nora escaped the shop, she wished there were nothing but doors ahead of her, which she could walk through one by one, leaving everything behind.