“Maybe another time, OK?” He shot her a quick smile, clearly distracted by the choice between nicoise and mozzarella. “Besides, the weather’s glorious. You don’t want to be inside or crammed in some car park on a day like this.”
“All right,” Alice sighed.
She wandered the deli, trying not to feel frustrated by the regularity of their routine. The problem was, those weeks she spent poring over her bank records hadn’t just revealed Ella’s spending, but Alice’s old patterns too. Her life, according to the dense print of her debit statements, was painfully predictable: her penchant for Marks and Spencer meal deals, bought at the station on her way home from work twice a week; the lunch trip to the deli, always resulting in a salad and single piece of fruit; the collection of toiletries she’d buy fortnightly in Boots, gradually accruing her meaningless loyalty points. Alice had always liked the reliable structure of her days, but seeing her life laid out in those dull lines of data had shifted something. She wanted to do something new, exciting for a change.
“And get crisps too,” Julian called from the next aisle. “Those Kettle ones you know I like!”
Perhaps tomorrow.
***
The weather was indeed glorious. Alice and Julian set up their picnic in the civilized shade of their favorite tree, with London stretching below them in a clear, sun-drenched view. A tartan blanket, the newspapers, and a bottle of white wine—it was the leisurely weekend idyll, and as Alice snapped the lids from their array of food containers and spooned the contents onto plastic plates, she tried to dwell not on how many times they’d done this before but on the loveliness of their surroundings.
“Cheers.” Julian bit hungrily into his cheese-smeared bread, sprawling back on his elbows in contentment.
“Cheers,” Alice echoed. She hitched up her long dress and shifted her legs into the sun. “So, what’s been happening with you? How’s it working out, living with Yasmin?”
Julian chewed thoughtfully. “Interesting…”
“Hardly a glowing review,” Alice noted, reaching for the bread. She tore off a hunk and waited patiently for the litany of Julian’s minor irritations that would, as always, add up to the end of the relationship. The anti-butter stance would, she predicted, rank high on his scoreboard of domestic disharmony.
But this time, Julian wasn’t forthcoming. “It’s an adjustment,” he said, as if trying to convince himself. “It’s been a while since I lived with anyone—except you, of course,” he added. They’d been flatmates for a couple of years, when Alice had first moved to London, during which time she hadn’t lifted a finger in the kitchen and had gained at least fifteen pounds of dessert weight.
“That’s right.” Alice thought hard. “Who was it last? That environmental woman, Whitney?”
Julian nodded. “Whitney…That was, God, two years ago. Or was it three?”
“We’re getting old.”
“Tell me about it.” He sighed, wistful. “And I’m even older.”
“By two whole years,” Alice protested. “That’s nothing.”
“I don’t know…” Julian rolled onto one side, looking at her across their debris. He tilted his head, giving her a curious half smile. “I always thought something would have stuck by now. Someone.”
“Well, Yasmin seems nice enough.” Alice tried to be diplomatic. “She’s very ambitious and together. And you need someone who can keep you organized,” she added, playfully tossing a strawberry at him.
“Why? I’ve got you for that.” Julian retaliated with an olive. Alice caught it and popped it in her mouth triumphantly. “No, the thing about Yasmin, is—”
“There you are!”
They both looked up. The woman herself was approaching, in a crisp emerald sundress with matching sandals. “I’ve been trying to call.” Yasmin stood over them, breathless. “Did you leave your phone off?”
Julian checked: “Oh, yes, sorry.”
Yasmin rolled her eyes. “Jules! This park is enormous, you could have been anywhere.”
“Hi, Yasmin,” Alice ventured brightly. She shifted over to make room, clearing some of their food aside. “How are you?” Leaning in, they exchanged air kisses while Julian foraged for another wine glass and plate. “Thank God you came to help us eat all of this.” Alice added, “I don’t know why, but Julian always buys enough food to sustain a small army.”
“He does get carried away,” Yasmin agreed. Carefully arranging her skirt, she accepted the wine and settled back. “Oh, I need this. They left such a mess at the office; I thought I’d never get away.”
“Well, this is an official stress-free zone,” Alice announced. “Which is why I’m sticking to the review sections. Hand them over.” She passed the news pages to Julian in exchange, stretching out lazily to read while Yasmin updated him on various high-finance wranglings.
“And how about you, Alice?” Yasmin asked eventually. She was resting one hand on Julian’s chest, taking small sips of her wine. “That awful fraud must still be a nightmare.”
Alice looked up. “Actually, it’s all getting cleared up now.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful. Julian said it was taking its toll.”
“I was stressed, for a while,” Alice agreed, remembering the early, fraught weeks. “But Stefan and his people have absorbed most of the chaos.”
“Crap.” Julian blinked. “I was supposed to get back to him, about that squash match.”
“You mean, squash massacre.” Alice laughed at the idea.
“Hey! I happen to be rather adept with the racket.”
“Adequate, maybe.” Alice smirked. “I remember a certain rather-painful tennis game…”
Julian pointed the baguette at her in mock threat: “Of which we swore never to speak.”
Yasmin blinked back and forth between them. “I didn’t know you played tennis, sweetie.”
“‘Playing’ is an overstatement,” Alice told her with a grin. “Even Flora can beat him.”
“The honor is in the noble attempt,” Julian declared grandly. “And I still say I let her win.”
“Of course you did,” Alice laughed.
Yasmin turned to Julian, stroking his hair. “The company has tickets for Wimbledon next week. We could go, if you want.”