The Reunion

dizziness, the sickness. But it was nothing: just stress, rich food, probably a glass or two more wine than was advisable.
    Downstairs, she discovered she wasn’t the first up. Natalie, dressed in tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt, sat at the table in the dining room, speaking to someone on her phone. Her voice was quiet and calm, so Jen guessed it probably wasn’t Andrew. She guessed wrong.
    ‘He thinks they’ll be able to get back here around lunchtime,’ she said, ushering Jen to a chair and pouring her a cup of coffee. ‘They’ll come with the snow plough.’
    Before Jen could express her relief, Natalie launched into an apology. ‘I behaved horribly yesterday,’ she said. ‘I know I did. And I really regret it, regret causing so much trouble.’ Jen tried to say something, to reassure her, but Natalie went on: ‘I hope you understand that there were things I needed to say, things I’ve been carrying around, that have been weighing on me…’
    ‘I do, Nat. I do understand.’
    Natalie held up her hand. ‘This was the wrong time, the wrong place. And the things I needed to say, I didn’t even say them right. I just ended up upsetting Andrew. I was supposed to be protecting him.’
    There was a throb behind Jen’s eyes. She felt suddenly exhausted, she wasn’t sure she could bear to go over all this again. ‘It’s OK, Nat. Everyone was a little overwrought. It’s mostly my fault for the way I handled things anyway…’
    ‘No. I see what you tried to do, I know your intentions were good. I spoiled everything.’
    Jen shook her head, sipped her coffee.
    Mercifully, Natalie changed the subject. She asked Jen questions about her plans, had she chosen names yet (no), would she live with her mother in Tunbridge Wells when she moved to England (certainly not). Jen explained that she’d probably end up in London, or possibly Oxford. There was a possibility of a job at Oxford University Press. After a few minutes, they lapsed into more or less comfortable silence, sipping their coffee, enjoying the stillness of the morning.
    They boiled eggs and made toast, chatted about Charlotte and Grace, and life in England, what Jen should expect. She’d been back for days, here and there, when her father got sick, for his funeral, but overall she’d probably spent less than a couple of weeks in her home country since the year of the accident. The chatter felt warm, companionable; this was the kind of breakfast Jen had hoped for when she’d invited them, only she’d envisaged there being six of them at the table, rather than just two.
    ‘The boys are sleeping in,’ she said out loud, stating the obvious.
    ‘Yes, well. Zac’s not long left adolescence, has he, and you know how teenagers can sleep.’ Natalie grinned at Jen, one eyebrow raised.
    ‘He is rather young, isn’t he?’
    ‘Young and beautiful. Can’t say I blame her,’ Natalie said with a shrug. ‘I mean, I don’t imagine they have an awful lot to talk about, but…’
    ‘They seem pretty happy,’ Jen said.
    Natalie shrugged again. ‘What’s it like, by the way, seeing Dan again?’ she asked. Jen started a little. How did we get from Lilah and Zac to Jen and Dan? What was she trying to say? Did she know something? Jen tried to read her expression, but she looked innocent enough. ‘You haven’t seen him, have you? Since.’
    ‘No, I haven’t.’
    ‘You were so close, for a while.’
    ‘We were.’
    ‘The film, it was…’
    ‘I don’t really want to talk about that, Nat.’ Natalie thought
that
was why they hadn’t spoken. She didn’t realise that Jen had never seen the film, couldn’t care less about the film.
    ‘No, sure. But you and him, it’s not difficult?’
    ‘It’s fine,’ Jen replied, trying to keep her voice light. She could feel her cheeks reddening, felt as though she’d been caught in a lie. She got to her feet abruptly, turning away from Natalie, asking, ‘You want another cup of coffee?’
    ‘I’m OK, thanks,’ Natalie said. Jen could hear the note of puzzlement in her voice.
    Dan chose that moment to make his entrance, suitcase in hand.
    ‘Morning all,’ he said brusquely, walking through the kitchen and into the hallway where he left the case. ‘Any coffee going?’
    Jen looked at him, her expression questioning. ‘Sure,’ she said, pouring him a mugful and handing it over.
    ‘Cheers,’ he said, turning away. He walked to the window and gazed out. ‘They’ll clear the road today, won’t