A Question of Love by Isabel Wolff

daughter?’ He nodded enthusiastically. A wave of relief flooded over me, in a way that took me aback. ‘I didn’t know you’d had a baby.’
    ‘Didn’t you?’
    I shrugged. ‘I didn’t have a clue what had happened to you.’ I didn’t add that I’d avoided finding out. I’d dropped all our friends because I couldn’t bear the association. I looked at the photo again. ‘She is gorgeous. She’s really beautiful.’
    ‘Well, I think so obviously, but thanks.’
    ‘She’s, what, five?’
    ‘Just turned six.’
    ‘So you—got married and all that, did you?’
    ‘I did.’
    ‘Uh huh.’ So that was that then.
    ‘Anyway…’ He fished his car keys out of his pocket and jingled them. ‘I’d better be off—it’s my turn to collect her from school. So…I guess you don’t want to have dinner with me.’ He shrugged. ‘Oh well…’
    ‘I didn’t actually say that, Luke.’
    ‘Well you didn’t say that you did. ‘ He picked up his scarf. ‘So you’ve changed your mind have you?’
    ‘How could I have changed it when I hadn’t made it up ? You’re being so…bloody… manipulative .’
    He smiled. ‘I’m not actually—I’m being direct. I’m asking you if you’ll have dinner with me—how about Friday? Now, I’m in a hurry so, if you don’t reply, I’ll take your silence as assent. I’ll pick you up at eight shall I?’
    ‘But…’
    ‘But what?’ He looked at me then slapped his brow. ‘Of course…but I don’t know your address. Silly me. Give it to me now then will you?’
    ‘No Luke—that wasn’t what I meant. I meant—what about your wife ?’ My heart was beating so loudly I thought he’d hear it. ‘You said you were married—won’t your wife mind? I rather imagine she will.’
    He shook his head. ‘I’m not going to tell her.’
    ‘Oh. Well, I don’t think that’s on.’
    He rolled his eyes. ‘Get off your high horse will you Laura. I’m not going to tell her—for the simple reason that I don’t have to. We’re separated.’
    ‘Oh dear,’ I said. My heart sang. In fact it wasn’t just singing—it was jigging and pirouetting and twirling and hopping. ‘I am sorry to hear that. Since when?’
    ‘Last May…Anyway, Laura, I’ve got to leave right now. So what’s the answer then?’ He picked up his coat.
    ‘Well—’ and now, for the first time, I allowed myself to smile—‘the answer is …a hundred thousand. The human heart beats a hundred thousand times a day doesn’t it?’
    ‘That’s right.’ He kissed me on the cheek. ‘Sometimes more.’
    They say the first cut’s the deepest—and it’s true. Seeing Luke again seemed to have cast the whole world in an entirely new light. All that was familiar looked oddly unfamiliar—as though the prism through which I’d viewed everything had changed. As I opened my front door that evening, it was as though the past had risen up to overwhelm the present and I was seeing the flat for the very first time. I went straight to my desk and took out a carved wooden box in which I’d kept things too personal for public display. There was a black and white photo of my parents, kissing; there was a beribboned lock of my grandmother’s hair, there were my engagement and wedding rings in their velvet boxes and, at the bottom, one of Luke’s drawings of me. I’d burnt all the others—he’d done dozens—but, for some reason, I’d kept just thisone. He’d sketched me while I slept one Sunday morning at the end of our first month together when everything had been heightened—intense. Now, as I looked at my younger self, my naked form caught in dark blue pastel lines and smudged shadows, I thought of how different my life might have been.
    I poured a glass of wine, had a couple of large, steadying sips, then lay on the sofa, eyes closed, thinking about Luke, allowing all the memories that I had pushed away for so long to wash back on a nostalgic tide…
    Thump! Thump! I opened my eyes. ‘Oh God.’ Thump!