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She looks down at her dress. ‘Yes,’ she says. ‘All my other summer stuff needs a wash. And I thought, why not?’
‘You look lovely,’ he says, nodding approvingly. ‘Very slim.’
‘Thank you,’ she says, touching her stomach. ‘Just a flattering cut, I suppose.’
He appraises her once more and nods. ‘Lovely.’
He smiles, but there’s no warmth in his voice.
Thursday, 20 June
Alix’s studio is at the bottom of the garden. It was Nathan’s fortieth birthday present for her, in recognition of how well her newly launched podcast was doing. He’d sent her away on a girls’ weekend, had it all professionally fitted, then wrapped the shed in an oversized ribbon and guided her to it blindfolded on her return. Is it any wonder that Alix is so torn about her marriage, when her husband is capable of such acts of generosity and affection, whilst also capable of making her want to die?
She switches on the power for the Nespresso machine at the wall and places a vase of flowers on the desk. At ten o’clock the doorbell rings and Josie is on her doorstep with her little dog in a shoulder bag.
‘I hope it’s OK to bring Fred,’ says Josie. ‘I should have checked.’
‘No problem at all,’ Alix replies. ‘I have a cat but as long as he’s in the studio with us, she won’t bother him. Come on through.’
‘Your house is beautiful,’ says Josie as she follows Alix through the open-plan kitchen at the back of the house and out into the garden.
‘Thank you so much.’
‘My house was probably beautiful once. It’s one of those big stucco villas. You know. But the council chopped them into flats in the seventies and now they’re ugly.’
Alix smiles and says, ‘So sad. London’s full of places like that.’
Josie oohs and aahs about Alix’s studio, runs her hands over the gleaming recording equipment, pats the fat foam head of the microphone. ‘Will I be talking into that?’ she says.
‘Yes.’
Josie nods, her eyes wide.
She lets the little dog out of its dog carrier and it trots around, sniffing everything.
Alix makes Josie a cup of tea and herself an espresso. They pull on their headphones and face each other across the recording desk. Alix does a test run with Josie, asks her the standard question about what she had for breakfast, and then they begin.
‘Josie, first of all, hello and thank you so much for giving me your time so generously. I cannot tell you how excited I am to start this project. For listeners coming across from my regular podcast series, All Woman , welcome and thank you for taking a punt on me doing something new. For new listeners who’ve come upon this podcast from some other angle, welcome. So, let’s kick off with an easy question, Josie. Your name. What is it short for? If it is in fact short for anything?’
Josie shakes her head. ‘No,’ she says. ‘No. Just Josie. Not short for anything.’
‘Named after anyone?’
‘No. Not that I know of. My mum is called Pat. Her mum was called Sue. I think she just wanted to give me a pretty name, you know. Something feminine.’
‘So, just to set up the premise for everyone, the story behind the title of this podcast, Hi! I’m Your Birthday Twin! , is that those were Josie’s first words to me when we met in our local pub the night we both turned forty-five. Josie and I are not just birthday twins but were born in the same hospital too. And now we live less than a mile apart in the same corner of northwest London. So, before we get into your life story, let’s talk about your birth story. What did your mum tell you about the day you were born?’
Josie blinks. There’s a ponderous silence that Alix already knows she might need to edit out. ‘Well,’ she says, eventually. ‘Nothing much really. Just that it hurt!’
Alix laughs. ‘Well,’ she says, ‘yes. That’s a given. But what did she tell you about the day itself: the weather, the midwife, the first time she saw you?’
There follows another silence. ‘Like I say. Nothing. She never said anything. Just that it hurt so much she knew she’d never do it again.’
‘And she didn’t?’
‘No, she didn’t.’
‘So, no siblings?’
