Pictures of Lily

Ben definitely, definitely doesn’t look old, I decide once and for all. Thank bollocks for that.
    Was he wearing a ring?
    He returns a minute later with a beer. I can’t see his left hand clearly from this position.
    ‘This is weird,’ Ben says, grinning.
    ‘Mmm,’ I murmur.
    ‘So what have you been doing?’ He leans towards me and rests his elbows on his knees. The waiter finally returns with my drink. I wait for him to leave before speaking. And then I see Ben’s hand. No ring. My heart skips a beat. He’s still waiting for my answer to his question.
    ‘This and that.’
    ‘What sort of this and that?’ he persists. ‘Tell me. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.’
    ‘Oh, I work as a receptionist in the city.’ He nods. ‘It’s for a publishing firm. I covered for someone on a magazine recently,’ I blurt out. ‘That was good fun. I’m just temping . . .’ My voice trails off.
    ‘No photography?’
    I shake my head. ‘Sadly, no.’ I feel like a massive failure. He expected so much of me and I’ve delivered nothing. My eyes return to the space on his finger where his wedding ring should be.
    ‘Divorced,’ he says suddenly.
    ‘Pardon?’
    He lifts up his wedding finger. ‘Divorced.’
    Someone is hoovering the inside of my head. My thoughts are befuddled with all the white noise.
    ‘Five years ago,’ he reveals.
    ‘Five years?’
    ‘Yep.’
    ‘Have you been in Sydney for the last five years?’ Out of the blue I feel like crying. If I’d met him five years ago I never would have met Richard. I never would have had to cause him any pain. But I’m getting ahead of myself . . .
    ‘No,’ Ben replies. ‘I stayed in the UK for a while before moving back to Adelaide and then to Perth. I’ve only been in Sydney for a year.’
    ‘A year. Okay.’ I breathe a sigh of relief. ‘Did you go to Perth because of your mum?’
    He smiles. ‘I can’t believe you’d remember that.’ I nod and he continues. ‘I had to get away after a couple of years of it.’ He looks at my left hand. ‘What about you? No ring?’
    ‘Ring? No,’ I say hastily, unable to help misleading him.
    He smiles, meeting my eyes so that my stomach does a somersault. I avert my gaze, guiltily.
    ‘You look different,’ he muses after a while.
    ‘You look the same as I remember you.’
    ‘I wasn’t sure you’d remember me at all.’
    ‘Of course I would,’ I tell him. I remember you every day.
    My nerves haven’t dissipated yet, and every so often I experience a tingling sensation rippling over my face and down my arms. Unwittingly, I shiver.
    ‘You’re not cold, are you?’ he asks.
    ‘No.’ I look around.
    The waiter approaches our table. ‘Can I get you anything else?’ He enquires snootily.
    ‘Do you want to move on?’ Ben asks me.
    ‘Yes,’ I tell him. ‘The bill,’ I say to the waiter before turning back to Ben. ‘Where do you want to go?’
    ‘Are you hungry?’
    I couldn’t eat a thing. ‘A bit,’ I lie.
    ‘I know a little bistro not far from here.’
    ‘Sounds good.’
    The waiter returns with the bill and I try not to baulk at the fact that he deliberately chose to give me one of the most expensive wines by the glass.
    ‘Let me get this.’ Ben reaches for his wallet, but I wave him away, slapping down some money. I follow him out of the venue.
    ‘It’s only a ten-minute walk,’ Ben says. ‘Do you want to catch a taxi?’
    ‘No, no, I’m happy to walk.’
    He sets off at a brisk pace, but I can easily keep up in my trainers. His hands are plunged deep into his pockets. I fold my arms across my chest.
    ‘Are you sure you’re not cold?’ he checks again.
    ‘I’m fine,’ I assure him. A memory comes back to me and I can’t help but giggle. ‘Don’t give me your shirt, you’ll never get it back.’
    He laughs out loud. ‘I know, you little thief. That was one of my favourites, as well.’
    ‘Was it? I’m sorry.’
    He grins and nudges me. ‘If it was anyone else . . .’
    I blush unexpectedly at his tone. ‘You can have it back now, if you like.’
    ‘Have you still got it?’ He regards me with interest.
    ‘It’s at my mum’s.’
    ‘No,’ he decides. ‘It wouldn’t fit me now, anyway.’ He indicates his chest. It’s definitely broader than it used to be. ‘How is your mum?’ he asks.
    ‘She’s fine. You know we left Michael and Josh after Michael proposed to her?’
    ‘I did hear something about that, yes.’
    A pang goes through me. He