Page 46 of How We Loved

Oh. God. “Lovely.” What else was I supposed to say?

“We’ve tried everything to get tickets to one of his shows; it’s almost impossible. Why is he only playing such small venues? And why only an EP?”

“I heard he’d fallen out with the record company,” Another mother with a carrot-topped baby cut in. “Is that true?”

“Uh...”

The first woman with the Sound Box-conceived baby wiggled closer to me, effectively breaking the circle of Song-Time. “Tell me, when he’s writes about you, does he tell you first, give you warning of what part of your life he’s going to share with the world?”

Hm. I guess I’d never thought about that. “Uh, I don’t think the songs are necessarily about me.”

This was a lie. I knew they were, especially the solo stuff he wrote while we were apart, but I kind of didn’t want to admit that. They were about heartbreak and almost undermined what we had now.

Seriously? Was I actually thinking this shit?

“In the ruins of our love, I’m left with shattered dreams, Heartbreak’s cruel embrace, tearing at the seams.” The woman sighed as she quoted Ben’s lyrics at me.

Lorraine, to be fair to her, could see how awkward I was and clapped everyone back into a circle. “Let’s teach Lilah the welcome song.”

Oh god. Yes please. All I could think was ‘Where is Ben on tour, and is it too late to go and find him?’

No. I had to do this.

So I learned the damn welcome song. And ‘Little Peter Rabbit’ and ‘Jelly on a Plate’. Hope woke up, and I whizzed her around in the air, making her laugh, the sound making my heart triple in size and boom in my chest, until I was holding her up in the air and she yaked straight into my open mouth.

The circle fell silent.

I have no plans to go back to Song-Time. I’ll have to find something else.

Afterward, I walked up Putney High Street and popped into see Baz. He was busy, though, with a small group of school children who were trying out percussion. I could have sent them down the road to see percussion in motion with Lorraine.

I didn’t fancy walking around the shops. For the first time since Ben and I got together, I had this exposed sensation, realizing maybe somewhat late that my life was no longer privately my own.

I marched home, sweating in my jumper, where Meredith then found me trying to get the crappy buggy in through the front door. “What on earth are you doing? Do you want a screwdriver to take it off the hinges?”

“The stupid door doesn’t open wide enough - stupid stupid Victorian people.”

Mer slouched forward and held it open while I maneuvered the demonic wheels into the narrow communal hallway.

“Cup of tea?” she asked, and I knew she was reading my face.

“What are you doing home?”

“Revising. Final exams start in two weeks.”

And just like that, I started to cry.

We didn’t bother with tea and went straight for the wine. Although obviously not much for me, Ben wouldn’t be home until the early hours of the morning, so I was on Hope duty.

“So are you upset that they knew who you were? Because I’m not being funny, Lil. You’re the one who has always insisted that Ben follows the music dream.”

“No, it’s not that. I just want to do normal things with Hope, and they made me feel...” I trailed off.

“Made you feel what?”

“Like I wasn’t normal.”

“I hate to tell you this, but that’s always been the case.”