Every Saturday morning, we met up for coffee and a catch-up in Caffè Nero. We’d share a pistachio croissant and talk about what we’d been doing. Most of Diana’s life was taken up with her clients—she was a financial adviser—but she told me she was going out more with friends.
I was glad about that.
One Saturday towards the second half of August, we were sitting in our usual comfy armchairs, drinking lattes and talking about nothing in particular. I admit, I was frustrated with my lack of progress, both in the suspension process and my personal life.
That particular Saturday, I so needed a friend.
Diana stirred her coffee, aiming a glance at me that I was sure she thought appeared casual. Yeah, not even close. I knew this woman.
“You look like you didn’t sleep last night,” she said.
“I didn’t.”
“Any particular reason?”
I leaned back in my chair. “I spoke to my parents last night.”
Diana winced. “Ah.”
“Yes,” I said with a sigh. “Ah.” I could still hear my father’s voice.
Unfortunately.
She set her cup down. “How did that go?”
I rubbed a hand over my face. “Well, I told them about the suspension.”
Diana’s eyes widened. “Why did you leave it so long?”
“I don’t know. Wishful thinking? The vain hope this would all be sorted without me having to tell them a damn thing?”
She bit her lip. “Wow. If wishful thinking ever gets to be an Olympic event, you’re a certainty for gold.” She gave me a sympathetic glance. “That must have gone down well.”
“It went exactly the way you think it did, but that wasn’t the worst part.”
Diana’s expression shifted. “What else did you tell them?”
“That we’re not living together anymore.”
She blinked. “Right.”
“And you told them the same thing, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” she said slowly. “But I didn’t?—”
“No,” I cut in. “Neither did I.” I sipped my latte.
Diana leaned forwards, her voice low. “What happened?”
I let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “My father happened.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It started off normally enough,” I said with a shrug. “Concerned parent. Questions about work. About what had happened. Then he asked about us.”
Diana winced again. “Of course he did.”
“So I told him we’d separated. Amicably.” I made a vague gesture. “Different directions, all very civilised.”