My blood freezes as a tall, trim man with sandy hair turns around. ‘Did somebody say my name or am I daydreaming I’m popular again?’
‘Behave,’ Annalise giggles, nudging him. ‘Meet Beth. She’s new.’
‘Welcome,’ Simon says as he shakes my hand. He smiles, and two deep dimples pierce his cheeks. ‘Don’t be nervous. Everyone here is friendly enough.’
‘Friendly enough? Simon, we’re more than that,’ Lola protests. ‘We’re delightful!’
As the group laughs, I can’t take my eyes off Simon. Could this be who Alexa is having an affair with? With those arms and that smile, I wouldn’t be surprised if so.
‘Are you here alone?’ Annalise asks, looking over my shoulder.
‘My… my husband couldn’t make it.’
Sympathy floods Annalise, but she doesn’t look surprised. ‘Well, don’t worry about that. Some people are ready to join meetings before others. I came alone for three months before Simon felt able to attend too.’
‘Then when I realised there were biscuits, I couldn’t keep away,’ Simon adds. Annalise suppresses an eye roll, but the way her face lights up when she looks at him tells me he could make terrible jokes forever and she would still adore him.
‘My partner doesn’t come either,’ Lola says. ‘She tells me it’s good we have separate outlets for our grief. Hers is knitting, of all things.’
‘My husband knits, too,’ I say, but the reminder of Kamal punches me in the chest. I picture him at home, eating dinner alone, while I’m here, lying yet again.
Annalise reaches for my hand. ‘Why don’t you sit between me and Lola tonight? We can help you settle in.’
‘Is that okay?’ I ask, surprised at the emotion in my voice.
‘Beth, it’s more than okay! Come on, we’ll find a seat before everyone rushes to nab a good spot.’
Throwing her arm over my shoulder, Annalise steers me towards the circle of chairs. As we leave Simon, I eye him suspiciously. If he’s who Alexa was meeting, then I almost don’t want to know. Barely five minutes into meeting Annalise, I am already furious at the idea of him cheating on her.
But as I watch Simon interact with the people around him, it’s more than clear how Alexa could be drawn to him. Simon emits a warmth that every person in the room seems to gravitate towards. With Alexa alone all day and Otis so distant, it’s not hard to imagine her wanting to be around someone with such an illuminating presence.
When I take a seat beside Annalise, she squeezes my hand, and I pray for her sake that Simon is not the person I’m looking for.
‘Is everybody ready?’ the grey-haired woman leading the meeting calls out.
Her question prompts a flurry of activity throughout the room as everyone rushes to find a seat, then the meeting begins.
It’s not long before I realise it will be harder to uncover the identity of ‘S’ than I thought.
‘There are three newcomers tonight,’ the leader begins the meeting by saying. ‘Let’s start by going around the circle and introducing ourselves. Say your name, your profession and a fun factabout yourself.’ She goes on to tell everyone that her name is Sharon Hollinger, she’s a psychologist, and she enjoys running marathons.
I learn that as well as Sharon and Simon, two other people attending tonight’s Families United meeting have a name beginning with ‘S’. That’s four people Alexa could have been meeting on Fridays. Four people I need to speak to before the night is over, but not before I’ve sat through the session and introduced myself.
‘I’m Beth. I’m a teacher, and I enjoy open-water swimming,’ I say, and with those words I fully adopt my sister’s identity.
Despite every intention I had before arriving, I find myself being drawn into the meeting. Sharon speaks first, sharing that earlier this week was the fifteen-year anniversary of her son Timothy’s stillbirth.
‘The strange thing about grief is that people expect it to fade,’ she says, ‘but I feel the pain of losing Timothy as if it happened this morning. It’s fresh. I think it always will be. So no, I don’t think grief goes anywhere. I think you just learn to live around it. For me, this week was a reminder of that.’
From there, everyone gets the opportunity to speak, but only if they wish to.
I find myself listening with a keenness I haven’t felt in a long time. At one point, I’m on the verge of tears when a woman called Rhoda describes crying in the supermarket because she accidentally walked down the baby aisle. I feel the memory so painfully, so personally, because I have been there myself. Confronted by the gummy, grinning photos on the packaging of nappies and breaking because all that I thought would be mine is not.
Then, when Rhoda finishes, Annalise raises her hand.
‘This is hard to say out loud, but saying it helps make it real. Simon and I, we’ve… well, we’ve decided to try again.’ Annalise takes Simon’s hand, grasping it tightly.
I try to ignore the fact that Simon doesn’t grip hers back with quite the same ferocity.