‘Sensational.’

‘Sensational? Dad, you sound like an ageing rock star. Since when do people say something or somebody looked sensational?’ She laughs, her eyes glistening as she points her finger at him, a playful expression on her face. ‘You really need to up your game, you know. Get to grips with everyday language and terminology. You’re stuck in a time-warp, old man.’

‘I don’t want to. Quite happy as I am, thank you, being stuck in this time-warp. It’s nice in here. Familiar and comforting.’

‘It must be. Look at you, all alone in your own special, antiquated little world.’ She is laughing even harder and shaking her head at him.

‘I’m not alone. There are loads of us here. It’s a great place. People are pleasant to one another. They still have manners and use words like sensational.’

‘Well,’ she says, looking more relaxed and happier than he has seen her in a long while, ‘you’re welcome to it. Would somebody as quaint and polite as you fancy giving me a lift to the party?’

The place is bouncing as they pull up outside. A sliver of anticipation pushes through him, darting through his veins, nestling under his skin. ‘Be careful, yes?’

She rolls her eyes. This is something she used to do a lot, something that irked him but he managed to ignore. This time, he doesn’t dismiss it. He thinks of drugs and alcohol and young men and their capabilities. He thinks of the food.

‘Have you got your⁠—’

She opens her bag and inside is her EpiPen, lying at the bottom amongst the detritus – bits of old tissues, lipsticks, discarded tampon wrappers, something else he has had to learn to deal with as a single dad. Every day brought a new challenge. He had no idea how much Sophia did for them both until she was no longer around to do it. And then he recalls the other side of his wife: her furtive ways, her indiscretions. He shuts his eyes, opens them again and turns to face Lauren.

‘Please tell me it hasn’t expired?’

She looks at him from under her lashes, dark and silky, just like Sophia’s. Jesus Christ, she is everywhere. Everywhere and nowhere. Will this ever end?

‘Dad, it hasn’t expired. Now you will stop worrying. Go home and pour yourself a glass of wine?’

‘I can pick you up later if you like?’

She sighs and leans over to give him a kiss. ‘I’ve got friends in there. We’ll get a taxi together.’

‘Right,’ he replies dolefully. ‘Make sure you’re not the last one in the cab.’

She lands a punch on his arm and widens her eyes. ‘Stop it! Go home old man and get drunk. Watch a film on TV. Ring a chatline. Anything! Now begone before I slap you again.’

She steps out of the car, blows him a kiss and saunters up the path. This was his idea, this party. His idea for Lauren to start socialising again. This is another part of single parenting he hadn’t accounted for – worrying for both of them with nobody at home to talk to, nobody to listen to his fears and anxieties. Nobody to tell him to go to hell when he asked the question he never thought he would ever have to ask about whether or not his wife was sleeping with another man.

But that’s over now. A thing of the past. He can move on without having to monitor her movements, without checking her phone. She’s gone. Her lover is in prison for her murder. What more is there to be said?

9ALICE

He’s not coming. I feel sure of it. I cornered him last Sunday, forced him into this. He’s had a full week to mull it over and now he’s not going to turn up. I missed the counselling session at church. I couldn’t face it, sitting there opposite him as he tried to catch my eye, watching and waiting for him to subliminally tell me that he no longer wants to be associated with me. I don’t blame him. He doesn’t know me. Not really. He doesn’t know why I’m here, what my intentions are. I’m not even sure I know that myself, not the full endpoint of it all. I just know that I need to strike up a relationship with him, become a part of his life. And then it will all fall into place.

My phone buzzes. I lift it out of my pocket and stare at the screen. Another missed call from Sandra and two texts. I turn it off and slip it back into my pocket. I don’t have time for her or anybody else from that period of my life. It’s in the past. I’ve moved on.

The door opens behind me, warm air wafting my way. I don’t turn around. I don’t want to be disappointed when I’m faced with somebody who isn’t Peter. I’ve waited a long time for this moment and it seems it may not happen after all.

‘Another latte? I see you beat me to it.’ And there he is, standing looking down at me, his eyes shining. And he’s smiling. I haven’t scared him off. I haven’t sent him running in the opposite direction. He’s here. With me.

‘That would be lovely, thank you.’ My chest tightens as he goes to the counter and orders our drinks then comes back and slips effortlessly into his chair.

‘You made it.’

‘I made it.’

‘I thought perhaps you weren’t coming. Thought maybe I’d scared you off.’ I smile at him and he smiles back. This is easier than I anticipated.

‘I didn’t see you at the grieving session.’

‘Ah yes. I thought that maybe it was about time I stopped going. It’s been a year now. Time to move on, I think.’ I divert my gaze away from his, keep my voice even. Try to conceal my innermost thoughts. He hasn’t recognised me. My deliberate changes in the last year have served me well.

There is a moment’s silence before he replies, his voice dry and husky. ‘Perhaps you’re right. Maybe it is time to move on.’

‘I’m sure it is.’ I look up at him again, try to soften my voice, my posture, to welcome him into my world. My upside down, damaged little world. If only he knew.

He grins. ‘My daughter was out last night. She didn’t get in until turned 2 a.m. and I couldn’t sleep until I heard her key in the door so you’ll have to excuse me if I appear a bit tired.’

I nod to indicate my comprehension at his words even though I don’t have any teenagers and have no clue how it would feel to lie awake nights worrying about them. I’ve lain awake worrying about many other aspects of my life, but never given any thought to how I would deal with teenagers of my own. I suppose now I will never find out. My body clock is ticking, the hands racing around the face at an almighty speed. Too late for me now. Everything is too damn late.

‘So, I decided to have a lie-in this morning and am moving at half-speed which explains why I’m a bit behind time.’

‘Good for you. I would have done the same myself had I been able to sleep.’ I glance away, stare out of the window, knowing he is watching me, knowing he is trying to work out what is going through my mind. Trying to work out what it is that stops me from sleeping. If only he knew. We wouldn’t be sitting here in such close proximity, being gracious and courteous if he did. He would walk away in the opposite direction, vowing to never see me again. I bite at my lip and lower my gaze.

‘How do you fancy a walk after we finish our coffee?’ He is still watching me, waiting for my reply.

‘That would be lovely,’ I say quietly, sipping at my latte, steam billowing off it in tiny tendrils.

‘There’s a footpath that runs behind the church. We could go there. That’s if you want to?’

I nod, trying to appear neither nonchalant nor overly eager. It’s a fine balancing act, keeping him interested. Scaring him off is the last thing I want to do. I’ve worked too hard to catch his eye to then blow it at this stage by appearing too brashy and needy. Easy does it.

‘It sounds just perfect.’

We sit in companionable silence for a few minutes, drinking, watching the world pass by outside the window before he breaks the stillness. ‘I was thinking that maybe we could go out for a meal. Not now, I mean. I was thinking of an evening. There’s a place in town that I know. They do the best lasagne.’

I am tempted to refuse, just to keep him dangling for that little bit longer, but know that it would be churlish and downright stupid. Who is it I’m trying to punish here? Peter or myself?

‘Thank you, I would love to go. It feels like an age since I’ve been out for a meal.’ I laugh and turn to look around the café. ‘I mean a proper evening meal in a restaurant, that is.’

‘I know what you mean. Apart from lunch with my daughter yesterday, I’ve not been anywhere either. Maybe it’s time to start living again.’

‘I think you’re right. Those grieving session were the highlight of my week. They gave me something to look forward to but now I think perhaps it’s time to find my own way back into the world. I was relying on them just a bit too much.’ My hands are pressed against my knees as I speak, my knuckles taut, my nails digging into my flesh as embellishments and untruths pour forth from my mouth. I’m becoming quite the liar. And enjoying it too.

‘I totally understand that. After losing Sophia, I thought the world had come to an end but now given time, I’m getting back on an even keel so I’m thinking that it’s time to step away from the church and those sessions. There’s a fine line between needing support and relying on that support, not standing on your own two feet.’ He is nodding now, as if he has just confirmed his own innermost thoughts and approves of them.

I lean forward and stare into his eyes. ‘Finish your coffee and let’s take that walk, eh? The fresh air will do us both good.’

He nods, drains the last of his drink and stands up. ‘Come on,’ he says softly, ‘before I succumb to my caffeine addiction and order us both another. Let’s get out here and explore.’