‘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.’
10PETER
It’s such an easy feeling, he thinks, sitting here talking to her; like slipping into a comfortable old shoe. That’s not how a relationship is supposed to begin but that’s how it feels. She is attractive for sure, not in the same way Sophia was, but she has a quiet charm about her and exudes confidence which is exactly what he needs right now. He likes the way she lets him go at his own pace. Maybe that’s because she knows what it’s like to lose somebody. He thinks that perhaps they are like a pair of drowning souls, trying to resurface and breathe again, to look up at the sky and appreciate the warmth of the sun on their backs.
He is almost there, back into breathing mode once more. No more holding his breath, praying he doesn’t get sucked under into a whirling vortex from which there is no escape. The whirling vortex that was his life while Sophia was alive. Her death was traumatic. Devastating. It was also a welcome reprieve.
‘Right,’ he says, trying to sound self-assured and affable when in fact, he feels incredibly and stupidly nervous. ‘Let’s get out there and explore.’
Even as he says it, his words feel awkward and silly. He feels awkward and silly, like an over-excited child filled with a need to run and play. It’s been a long time since he relaxed, played, did anything that lightened the load he has been carrying around for the past year. He tells himself to rein it in, play down his eagerness. Nobody likes a man who displays unacceptable levels of immaturity. Time to act sedate. Be the person Alice wants him to be. The person he needs to be for this thing between them to work.
He doesn’t know how they ended up holding hands, but it happened and it feels natural. As if it was always going to be. He is aware that he needs to get back to Lauren, to make sure she’s up and about and hasn’t choked on her own vomit after one drink too many last night, yet he doesn’t want to leave too early, to break this moment and leave Alice here before they’ve had a chance to properly meld together.
‘If you like, we could go back to mine. You could meet my daughter, Lauren. She’s a good kid. Been through a lot but you’d never think it to meet her. None of the usual teenage tantrums and surly ways.’ He didn’t plan on saying that. It just came out. He doesn’t regret it. Already, he can visualise Alice meeting the family, rubbing along perfectly with Lauren and his mum.
He takes a breath and stops himself. Too soon. It’s all too soon. After Sophia and a series of subsequent disastrous hook-ups with other women, he needs to be careful, to slow down and not rush headlong into anything. Therein lies the road to failure. He’s tired of losing, being seen as a victim in the wreckage of his life. Time to take back control, to start winning again.
Only a few weeks after Sophia died, he trawled the town, looking for solace. He found it in the bed of women he met in the pubs. That was his way back then, what he did to mask his misery – drink, chat, fuck. He didn’t even get to know their names. He can no longer even recall their faces. Driven by loneliness and guilt, he did his best to obliterate the memory of Sophia from his mind by replacing her with anyone he could find.
It didn’t work. He continued to wake nights with their last heated discussion still in the forefront of his mind. And then there were the lies. Not just hers, but his as well. So many of them. Lie after lie after lie, a multitude of them heaped on top of one another. Too many to count. And of course, there is the biggest lie of all. The one he told the police and the one he keeps telling himself. The one he can’t bring himself to think about without breaking out in a sweat.
‘Lauren sounds like a dream,’ Alice replies as she smiles up at him. ‘And yes, I would love to meet her.’
They walk for a short while, the snapping of twigs underfoot and the echoing cawing of birds in the treetops the only sounds to be heard as they tramp through the mulch and back out into the daylight, emerging from the foliage with a slight rustle. Just two ordinary people spending time together, that’s all it is. An ordinary lady and a damaged man who is doing his best to get his life back on track.
‘We can go in my car if you like? Or you can follow me?’
She smiles at him, her expression unreadable. ‘I don’t have a car, I’m afraid. I got the bus here.’
A stab of guilt forces him to inhale. ‘Sorry. I just sort of assumed…’ He raises his eyes in an act of self-deprecation. ‘Right, I’ll drop you off home after we’ve been to mine. Unless you’re planning on going somewhere else afterwards? I mean, I can give you a lift to wherever you want to be. I don’t mind.’ He is rambling now and needs to stop it. He is aware that he sounds like an apprehensive child, too eager to please. Frightened of doing the wrong thing. Again. So many wrong things. So much guilt.
‘If you could drop me off home afterwards, that would be much appreciated. Thank you.’
She reaches up and gently kisses him on the cheek. It’s barely a touch at all: as light as the breeze passing over his skin. He has forgotten what it feels like to have somebody so close to him, to be shown true affection by another female. Not just skin against skin, carnal lust, but a true and soothing touch with more behind it than desire. A flame starts up under his face, spreading over his neck and down his chest. He swallows and lowers his gaze.
‘Right, well my car’s just parked over there on the road next to the café. And I live about a mile away so it won’t take us long to get there.’
She nods, her hair bobbing around her face, her eyes crinkling up at the corners. ‘This is really kind of you, Peter. I’m looking forward to meeting your daughter. I haven’t got any children of my own.’
