Page 44 of The Life She Could Have Lived

YES

On the day that would have been her nineteenth wedding anniversary, Anna received her divorce papers.

They dropped onto the doormat when she was making herself a sandwich for lunch, and she sat at the kitchen table, somehow unable to open the envelope, for about ten minutes.

And then she tore it open and found that she was crying.

And she wasn’t sure why. She’d never once doubted her decision to leave her marriage, but she didn’t regret the years she’d spent in it, either.

There had been a lot of happiness, and then there wasn’t, and she’d left.

It was as simple, and as complicated, as that.

Still, almost two decades, and a promise broken.

She thought back to who she’d been on their wedding day. How much she hadn’t known.

There were the boys, too. Each time she looked at them, and thought about the possibility of not having them, of having no children, or different children, she shuddered and was glad.

It hadn’t been easy, raising them, and it had taken a long time for them to accept her decision to leave their father.

For the first year, at least, they had been frosty with her, had only come to her for the agreed times and rarely contacted her in between.

But they had softened, eventually, and she had answered every question they asked and they had come to an understanding.

They missed her being at home, but they wanted her to be happy. And she was.

Thomas was sixteen, Sam thirteen, and Anna was confident that they were good people, and she was immensely proud of that.

Twice a week, they would arrive after school, with big hugs for her, and they would go through her cupboards and eat all her cereal and make round after round of toast. And the flat would come alive.

It wasn’t that she was lonely when they weren’t there.

But she loved it when they were. The anticipation of their arrival, each Monday and Friday evening, felt a bit like falling in love.

The previous afternoon, her heart had lifted when she’d heard the scrape of the key in the lock.

‘I missed you,’ she’d said, leaving her deluge of emails and standing to hug them.

They were both several inches taller than her, and they rested their chins on her head when she held them.

And it always brought to mind an image of them as babies, tiny and cradled in her arms. She remembered lifting Thomas when he was seven and thinking she wouldn’t be able to carry him for much longer, and now he could lift her.

It was scary, how fast it all went. Everyone said it, and she’d resented it when she was in those dragging, early days, but now her sons were almost adults, and she saw that it was true.

‘How are Dad and Helen?’ she’d asked.

Edward had met Helen about seven or eight months after Anna had left. Helen hadn’t had children, and the boys often complained about her not understanding something or other.

Sam had rolled his eyes. ‘Helen’s redecorating,’ he’d said .

‘Where?’ Anna had pictured the house, the colours and wallpapers she and Edward had chosen.

‘Everywhere. She’s giving it a new lease of life, apparently.’

Anna had smiled tightly. She didn’t care what happened to that house, but it was her sons’ home, the place where they’d grown up, and she hoped Helen would be careful with their feelings when it came to updating it to suit her tastes.

‘What does Dad think?’

Thomas had turned from where he was standing by the kettle. ‘I think he just does what he’s told.’

‘And how’s school?’

Thomas was doing his GCSEs, Sam just finishing year nine.

They were both doing okay. Sam had struggled, over the years, with friendships more than academic issues, but things were more settled now.

He had two best friends, one boy and one girl, and the three of them seemed to be kind to one another, to have each other’s best interests at heart.

For Thomas, things had been easier. He was into football and had always had a crowd of other boys around him.

Now, he had a girlfriend, Lauren, and Anna liked her a lot.

‘Only a few exams left,’ Thomas had said. ‘Lauren’s going to come over here on Saturday if that’s okay. We’re going to revise together.’

‘Of course. And you, little one?’ Anna had asked, turning to Sam.

Sam had screwed up his face. He hated it when she referred to him being the baby of the family. But he was, and he always would be. ‘Fine,’ he’d said.

Anna hadn’t been sure whether that was the whole story.

If it wasn’t, whatever was troubling him would come tumbling out at some point, she was confident of that.

He was an open book, and they were close, and she loved that he confided in her.

About six months ago, he’d told her that he thought he was gay, and she had kissed his forehead and thanked him for telling her, and that had been that.

It was hunger that brought Anna back to the present, dragged her from her thoughts of her sons.

She glanced at her watch. Almost one. She had a look in the fridge and didn’t much like what she saw there, so she decided to take herself out for lunch.

There was a new café near the common that she’d been meaning to try.

As soon as she stepped inside, Anna recognised the man behind the counter, or thought she did.

Was it really? Was it possible? There was a queue, and Anna craned her neck this way and that to get a better look, all the while trying to make sure he didn’t notice her.

It was James. One-perfect-date, didn’t-call James.

It was. She was sure of it. She pulled her phone from her pocket, sent a message to Nia.

I’ve found James.

James?

THE James. Perfect James.

WHAT? WHERE?

That new café by the common. He works there.

IN FOOD!

Oh my god, yes!

AND?? What happened?

He hasn’t seen me. I’m still in the queue. What should I do? I feel like I can’t breathe. Should I leave?

DO NOT LEAVE. This man is THE ONE. He must be!

Anna laughed and slipped her phone back in her pocket.

She couldn’t believe Nia was approaching fifty and still talked about there being a ‘the one’ for everyone.

Although, Nia had met Aidan late in life, and they were blissfully happy.

Anna didn’t believe in ‘the one’, but she believed in being happy, in taking chances, in constantly working at your life to make it the best it could be.

She was at the front of the queue. She raised her eyes, looked at James.

‘Hi.’

‘Hi,’ he said, his voice friendly. ‘What can I get you?’

So, he didn’t remember. Anna was more disappointed than she’d expected.

‘Brie and bacon panini please, with salad. And a coffee. Latte.’

James nodded and told her how much it came to, and she paid him, her fingers brushing his. Did she feel something? Warmth, connection, electricity? Did he?

‘I’ll bring it over,’ he said.

Anna took a seat and messaged Nia again.

He looks a bit like Peter Andre. I didn’t notice that last time.

Maybe you could be his mysterious girl.

Anna smiled and turned her phone over. She had sat down at a table for two in the window, and she watched people going past. Jogging, walking dogs, hurrying to appointments.

It was almost summer, and she was her own boss, setting her own hours, and it felt good.

She allowed herself to remember the date she’d gone on with James, when she’d not long finished university and felt like life was all still ahead of her.

When he hadn’t called the next day, or the next week, or ever, it had stung.

It had stung more than it should have done, and until she’d married Edward, and sometimes after, if she was honest, she’d looked for him in crowds, on the street.

Wondered about him. Where he was, who he was with. Why he hadn’t wanted to see her again.

The café started to empty out. By the time James brought Anna’s order over, there was no queue and only a couple of other tables were occupied.

‘Here you go,’ he said, putting her cup and plate down on the table a little too hard. He smiled, didn’t step away when she expected him to. ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry, I was frantic before, but you seem really familiar. Have we met?’

What to tell him? If she told him the truth, would it be embarrassing that she had remembered and he hadn’t? She decided she didn’t care.

‘It’s James, isn’t it?’ she asked.

‘I go by Jamie now.’

‘Okay, Jamie.’ She tried to make the adjustment in her brain. ‘I’m Anna. I think we went on a date a really long time ago.’

He reddened slightly and put one hand to his mouth. ‘Anna! I’m so sorry. I remember now. The bus, the Thames, dinner.’

Kissing , Anna thought. There was kissing, too.

‘How are you?’ he asked.

How did you sum up more than two decades of life in a brief conversation?

‘I’m really well,’ she said. ‘I have a little business, publicity for publishing companies. I have two teenage sons.’

She stopped, feeling foolish. Had he wanted to know these things? Had it sounded like she was trying to show off about what she had?

‘That’s great, Anna,’ he said.

‘And you? You were in finance, weren’t you? This is quite a change.’

‘It’s what I always wanted to do. And last year, I thought, fuck it, it’s now or never. I made enough money over the years that I have a bit of a cushion. But this, this is great. I get to talk to people, make people food; it’s so much better.’

Anna nodded, and then there was a pause, and she felt awkward, felt sure he would say goodbye and go back to his place behind the counter.

‘I lost your number,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘I lost your number. I didn’t deliberately not call. I was desperate to call, in fact. I looked for it everywhere. But it must have been in my pocket and gone through the wash or something. I’m sorry.’

Anna shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter now,’ she said.

But what if it did? What if her whole life might have been different? And his?

‘Can I take it again now?’ he asked.

She looked up at him, puzzled.

‘Your number. I mean, I know it’s probably not the same one. But maybe I could take you out again. I mean, if you’re single? If you’d like to?’

Anna felt a smile creeping over her. She felt it inside and out. She took a pen from her bag and wrote her number down on her napkin, and she handed it to him. There was something in the gesture that made her feel like she was back there, in her early twenties, with everything to come .

‘Thanks, Anna,’ Jamie said, turning to leave the table. ‘I’ll call you. Oh, and can I get you something for dessert? On me?’

On the walk back to her flat, after a delicious piece of carrot cake, she felt light and fizzy.

She didn’t need a relationship; she knew that now.

She was happy enough with her work and her sons and her peaceful home.

All of that was the feeling she’d searched for.

But still, there was nothing quite like the thrill of a connection like that, of the possibility of something coming to be.

It would, or it wouldn’t. And either way, that was just fine.

She was exactly where she should be, exactly who she should be.

And all the paths she might take in the future?

Well, she thought with a smile, when she reached them, she would know what to do.