and had a hilarious best friend called Gabriela who taught her how to surf,
and who she shared an apartment with, five minutes from the beach.
There was one existence where Nora had kept up the fiction writing she had occasionally toyed with at university and was now a published author.
Her novel The Shape of Regret received rave reviews and was shortlisted for a major literary award.
In that life she had lunch in a disappointingly banal Soho members’ club with two affable,
easy-going producers from Magic Lantern Productions, who wanted to option it for film.
She ended up choking on a piece of flatbread and knocking her red wine over one of the producer’s trousers and messing up the whole meeting.
In one life she had a teenage son called Henry, who she never met properly because he kept slamming doors in her face.
In one life she was a concert pianist, currently on tour in Scandinavia, playing night after night to besotted crowds
(and fading into the Midnight Library during one disastrous rendition of Chopin’s Piano Concerto No. 2 at the Finlandia Hall in Helsinki).
In one life she only ate toast. In one life she went to Oxford and became a lecturer in Philosophy at St Catherine’s College
and lived by herself in a fine Georgian townhouse in a genteel row, amid an environment of respectable calm.
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