Theo called after lunch. Leah was sitting on the edge of her bed in the clothes she had meant to wear climbing. She answered before the second ring.
“Hello?”
“You sent a message.”
His voice sounded like his own, which she hadn't realised she had been waiting to hear. There was a pause between the words and a faint clatter somewhere behind him.
“Yes. How are you?”
“Tired.”
She waited.
“I'm still here,” he said. “They're keeping an eye on me. I can't talk for long.”
“You don't have to.”
“I want to. About your message.”
Leah got up and went into the sitting room. Finn had left the door open when he'd come back to the kitchen. One of the cushions was dented where he had sat taking Mara's call.
She chose the chair by the window instead.
“Adam wasn't outside with me,” she said.
“I know Adam wasn't outside.”
“He told me he was upstairs.”
“Good.”
Theo drew a breath. The sound made her grip the phone tighter.
“He said Mara pushed you,” she said.
“She did.”
Leah watched a bus pull away from the stop across the street. Through its windows she saw a woman standing with both hands wrapped round the pole. The bus passed out of sight.
“Mara says she was frightened of you.”
Theo was silent for a moment.
“I was angry. Finn told me downstairs that Adam was sleeping with her. I went after him. I shoved him.”
She pressed her free hand against her knee.
Finn had stood at her counter that morning and talked about Theo being nasty. He had said nothing about Adam. He had eaten his pastry and tried to take her away for the morning.
“He told me you called him a liar.”
“I did.” Theo paused. “I didn't handle any of it well.”
Leah looked at Finn's dent in the cushion.
“Did you believe him?”
“Enough to make a fool of myself.”
“Adam said there was never anything between them.”
“He said that to me too. I should have listened.”
A voice sounded near Theo. He moved the phone away and answered a question Leah couldn't make out. She heard him say, “No, thank you,” then he was back.
“Mara is offering to come here,” he said. “Look after me.”
“Do you want that?”
“No. I told her.”
Leah had never heard him sound so certain about Mara. Usually he made room for her wishes even while he complained about them: an extra table, a later finish, a room turned upside down for a new photograph. It had been easy to watch that and call it a partnership.
“Are you ending things?” she asked.
“I told her before the party we should separate. She said not to spoil the evening.”
Leah remembered Mara fixing the guest's chair. The effortless smile, the arm held out to help. Theo passing behind her with the folded tablecloths.
“She didn't tell me.”
“No.”
“I don't want Mara here. If she asks you to help with that, don't.”
“All right.”
His breathing was audible. Then he said, abruptly, “Your flowers are going to die.”
“What?”
“At the house. We turned the heating up. Nobody will remember to turn it down.”
For the first time since the crash, Leah almost laughed. Theo was lying in hospital and worrying about the heating, because there was no one at the venue to worry at.
“They're not as delicate as you think.”
“Fine.”
“Let somebody else deal with it.”
“I will.”
He ended the call after saying goodbye, without waiting for her to offer anything more.
Leah lowered the phone. On the screen was a new message from Mara.
He won't answer me. Could you try? He always listens to you. I'd like to take him a few things.
It had arrived while they were talking. Leah read it twice.
She answered, He called. He doesn't want you to come. I'm not going to persuade him.
Mara's reply came quickly.
He's hurt and upset. I understand him better than that.
Leah put the phone on the table. She walked to the kitchen, tipped the cold tea out of her mug and washed it.
She dried the mug and went back for the phone.
Theo called. He says Mara pushed him. He also says you told him she was sleeping with Adam. Why didn't you tell me that?
She sent it to Finn.
He began typing. Stopped. Began again.
I'm not doing this over messages.
Leah left it there.
Her phone buzzed once more. Adam this time.
I know we said supper. Do you still want to come?
They had arranged it on Thursday. A cheap meal, a film neither would follow properly, no alarm set for the next morning. She had been looking forward to it all through the long Saturday at work.
She still wanted to see him.
Supper, she wrote. I'll come at seven. I won't stay the night.
His answer was a single word.
Okay.