The difference this time, though, is that Daphne and I aren’t on a break. We’re married. We might be in a bad place in 2020, but we’re still together. Did I think about her at this moment originally? I must have done, surely. She’s out there, in New York, at this very instant. I wonder if she’s thinking about me too.
Alice interrupts this train of thought by nudging my arm. ‘Are you following what’s going on?’ she whispers.
‘Yeah, yeah. Totally.’
She cups a hand round my ear. ‘Cameron and Kate Winslet have done a house swap, and now Cameron fancies Jude Law, who is Kate’s brother.’
I can feel her breath tickling my skin, and despite everything, certain parts of my body begin reacting fairly predictably. That was another reason this moment felt so exciting first time round: I was realising just how much I fancied her.
I get the sudden urge to turn my head so that we’re face to face. I could kiss her right now. It scares me how much I want to.
But instead I just nod and whisper, ‘Yep, crystal clear, don’t worry.’
She smiles and turns back to the screen.
After an hour or so, the film finally comes to an end. As we shuffle out, I agree strongly with Alice that it was ‘super romantic’, despite having picked up roughly seven words throughout.
By the time we’re back on the street, it’s freezing cold and the sun is already starting to set. We make our way down to the banks of the Seine, where twinkling red-and-white Christmas lights are strung delicately through every tree along the river.
We walk slowly, side by side, taking it all in. Alice is talking about her job now, and I can’t help cringing slightly as she throws around terms like ‘brand awareness’ and ‘synergy’ with an entirely straight face. She’s definitely much more earnest than she was at uni. I think I was quite impressed by this the first time around: I was swept up by how hot she looked, and how confident and sophisticated she seemed. But now, as she starts venting on her ‘useless’ boss and ‘annoying’ colleagues, I can sense a sharpness – a bitterness – I don’t remember her having before.
I can’t help thinking about Daphne: a superstar at her job, too, and yet still kind and modest and funny.
Alice must read my mind somehow, because she switches tack completely as she pulls out another cigarette. ‘You know, I always thought it was such a shame that you and I lost touch after uni.’
‘Yeah.’ I nod. ‘Me too.’
‘Or even before that, really,’ she says. ‘We did everything together in the first term, and then when you came back after Christmas, it was like things had changed.’
I scratch the back of my neck. ‘I know … I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.’
Alice shrugs. ‘No, it was fair enough, I guess. You and Daphne had just started going out, so you had other stuff going on. I was just sad that we didn’t get to hang out together any more. I … missed you.’ She laughs suddenly, as if to soften the impact of that last statement.
‘I missed you too,’ I tell her, although I’m not sure if it’s out of honesty or politeness. I’m trying desperately to remember if we had this conversation originally, but I’m drawing a complete blank.
Alice coughs and fiddles with her fringe. She keeps her gaze fixed straight ahead as she says, ‘It sounds stupid, but I always felt like Daphne had a weird … thing about me. That maybe she didn’t like me very much?’
I try to work some moisture into my mouth. ‘No … I don’t think that’s true.’
Alice just nods, but she doesn’t look convinced. I can’t think of anything more to say, so I just keep quiet. A boat full of rowdy tourists in Santa hats drifts past, and I scour my brain for a change of subject.
Before I can find one, she carries on: ‘So, how come you guys split up, then? If you don’t mind me asking?’ That same studiedly casual tone has slipped back into her voice, as if we’re talking about a two-week fling rather than a nine-year relationship.
I try to keep my voice as steady as hers. ‘Well, we didn’t really split up. I mean, technically we’re not together right now, but—’
‘Something must have changed, though?’ she cuts in. ‘If she’s in New York, and you’re here?’
‘Yeah. I guess. It’s … complicated.’
‘Mmm,’ she says. ‘Yeah, it sounds like it.’ Her face is blank – totally unreadable. But then she stops in front of a big flight of stone stairs and turns to smile at me. ‘Anyway, here we are. Next stop.’
Thankfully, all talk of Daphne dries up after that.
We head up and onto the Left Bank, where we eat the same incredible steak-frites at Le Relais de l’Entrecôte restaurant in Montparnasse. And after that, we retreat to the same crowded little piano bar in Denfert-Rochereau, where we huddle up at the same corner table and see off what is almost certainly the same bottle of house red. I just sit there, feeling increasingly drunk, listening to Alice talk about her co-workers, occasionally pouring scorn on them with an acidity I definitely don’t recall from the first time around. Everything is beginning to blur at the edges now, starting to feel scary and unreal. Because I know what will happen once we leave this restaurant, and I have no idea what I should do when it does.
Even though Alice has stopped grilling me about her, I still can’t get Daphne out of my mind. Something Mum said to me during that Monopoly game comes back suddenly: you and Daphne seem to have a relationship that’s worth working at. That’s what I was supposed to be doing here in Paris: working at it. When really I was sitting in this bar doing the exact opposite.
And then it hits me … Mum.
She’s out there too, in this reality. She’s still alive.
As soon as the thought enters my head, I’m up and out of my chair, mumbling an excuse to Alice behind me. My heart is thudding in my chest; I’m suddenly desperate to hear her voice. I step out into the freezing cold and press my phone against my ear, thinking: please, please, please pick up …
‘Hello, darling!’ she trills. ‘Merry Christmas!’
The winking Christmas lights on the lamp posts begin to dissolve in front of me as the tears blur my vision. I have to bite the inside of my cheek hard to keep it together. ‘Hi, Mum, merry Christmas!’ I’m trying to keep my voice steady, but I’m not totally sure I’m succeeding.
‘I was going to call you later, when I got back from Simon’s,’ she says. ‘Is this costing you an absolute fortune? I can call you back if you want?’
‘No, no, don’t worry.’ God, it is so good to hear her voice. She sounds happy – and more than a little tipsy – and I’m suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude for this chance to speak to her again.
‘I just wanted to say that I miss you,’ I mumble. ‘I wish I was there with you.’
She drops her voice to a whisper. ‘Trust me, you don’t. I spent the whole of lunch sitting next to your cousin Lucy’s incredibly dull new boyfriend. The man talked about nothing but Top Gear for an hour and a half. I am now the world’s leading expert on Richard Hammond. I think I know more about Richard Hammond than Richard Hammond does.’