by Dani Atkins
‘He has coped well,’ I agreed, although it was hard to dismiss the memory of Noah’s concerned expression as he watched the washing machine remove the evidence of how he might not be doing quite as well as we thought. I hadn’t told Pete about it, because it felt as though I was betraying Noah. ‘But a holiday…’ I continued hesitantly, as though the word was vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t quite recall what one was. ‘Do you mean abroad?’
Pete nodded. ‘It would only be for a week, Iz. You’d be able to phone him every day and Skype too if you wanted. I’m pretty sure the villa has Wi-Fi.’
I reached for my glass of wine, buying myself time to collect my thoughts, which were galloping through my head like escaped ponies.
‘Someone at work has offered me the use of their family’s place in Cyprus for a week, rent free. It sounds great. It’s right by the beach and it even has its own swimming pool.’
Had the last nine months erased all memory of me from Pete’s mind, I wondered? Didn’t he know I was already cataloguing everything that could possibly go wrong: planes plummeting into the sea; sunstroke; food allergies, fish hooks embedded into tender fingers; or drowning in your very own swimming pool? I already knew I wouldn’t sleep for the entire week.
‘All I’d need to buy are the flights and I’ve seen a good deal on those.’ I hated that there’d already been so much behind-the-scenes planning before he’d even thought of mentioning it to me.
‘Noah doesn’t have a passport.’ It was the only objection I could think of that didn’t make me sound like the world’s worst overprotective mother.
‘We’ve still got time to get one. I’ve checked it out online.’
What I really wanted to ask was how he could afford this type of holiday, given how tight things had been financially over the last few years. But that was a wife’s question and no longer mine to ask. I sighed and looked out through the pub window. Outside, the warm weather had brought out an unexpected number of shorts wearers, and practically everyone was sporting sunglasses. Everyone looked like they were on holiday.
‘I won’t let anything bad happen to him, Izzy. You can trust me, you know that.’ Pete’s hand stretched across the table and took hold of mine. I was so shocked I forgot to snatch it away. How long had it been since I’d felt his warm, oil-stained fingers wrapped around mine? But as comforting as his touch was, it couldn’t tether me to the present, and I was travelling back to an uncomfortable time when my concerns about Noah had crossed a dangerous line. A time when every little illness had me racing to the doctor. And Pete had never once criticised me. He’d been on my side, even when I was wrong. That kind of support, loyalty and patience is hard to forget, even when you’re firmly headed on the pathway to divorce.
‘What if he gets sick while you’re away? What if he has an allergic reaction to something?’
Pete did a pretty good job of swallowing his sigh, but I heard it anyway.
‘I’ll take all his medications. But you have to admit he’s been pretty healthy for a while now. He’s finally growing out of it, just like they told us could happen.’
My eyes were busily inspecting the grain pattern of the wooden tabletop, so I missed the reproach on his face, but I heard the trace of censure in his voice. ‘I know what to do if he isn’t well, Izzy. I might live away, but I’m not an absent parent. I never have been. You know that.’
I did know that, but it didn’t make the letting go any easier. ‘What if you can’t get his special milk over there?’
‘Then we’ll take it with us,’ Pete countered reasonably. ‘Or I’ll just pour beer on his cornflakes instead.’
How could he still do that? How was he able to conjure up a smile I would have sworn was impossible to find?
‘Relax. I’ve got this, Izzy.’
‘Yeah, well, that’s what I thought… but we both know exactly—’
‘That was years ago,’ Pete interrupted. ‘And it wasn’t your fault. The only person who’s ever held you responsible for what happened that day at the farm shop is you. It was never me.’
Pete was ploughing on with his carefully prepared argument, not yet realising he’d already won. I sighed, knowing – as I’d done all along – that there was only one answer to give him. I was going to have to say yes.
‘Just one last question,’ I said. The lines on my soon-to-be ex-husband’s face deepened into grooved fantails at the edges of his eyes as he beamed back at me. They faded faster than a shot of Botox when I asked: ‘Who owns the villa in Cyprus?’
He could have lied, I’d have been none the wiser if he had, but Pete had always been unfailingly honest, and I simply don’t think it occurred to him not to tell me the truth.
‘It’s Maya’s family, actually.’
I didn’t think my day could get any worse, but it just did.
5
Beth
‘There’s a strange man in the shop asking for you.’
I was in the back room, working on an arrangement of jewel-coloured gerberas, leaving Natalie to handle the shop. I’d heard the low rumble of voices as she dealt with a customer, but then she’d startled me by bursting through the bead curtain that separated the two areas. I paused before inserting a crimson red stem into the display, and looked up curiously.
‘What man? And how is he strange?’
Natalie glanced over her shoulder, as though the mysterious customer might have followed her into the back room. ‘He said he was looking for someone who might have bought a bunch of yellow roses from us, and then he described you perfectly, right down to the colour of your eyes.’
I knew in that moment exactly who was waiting for me on the other side of the bead curtain; what I didn’t know was why he was there. I set the secateurs down on the workbench and wiped my damp hands on the apron I’d tied loosely around my hips. ‘Would you mind finishing this up for me, Nat?’ I asked. Her disappointed expression revealed she’d much rather have followed me back into the shop.
He had his back to me and appeared totally absorbed with the contents of a bucket of pink carnations. It’s not a big shop, and it certainly seemed much smaller with one of its tallest ever customers on the other side of the counter. I hadn’t realised when we’d been out in the open, but in here, with his head practically grazing the dark beams of the low ceiling, I realised he must easily be three or four inches over six foot.
He heard my footsteps and spun around. The expressions on his face kaleidoscoped from shocked to surprised, before finally settling on confused.
‘It’s you,’ he declared, smiling, although clearly bewildered. Deep fan lines radiated out from the edges of his grey eyes. He either grinned a lot or spent a great deal of time squinting into the sun, for the lines seemed fairly well established.
He was dressed more formally than the first time we’d met, in black trousers and a pale shirt unbuttoned at the neck. ‘Do you work here?’ he hazarded. It wasn’t exactly an inspired deduction, as I’d just emerged from the back room.
‘I own here,’ I corrected, and even I could hear the pride in my voice.
He paused, and I could practically see the wheels spinning in his head. ‘So… is your name Daisy?’
For a moment I couldn’t follow his logic, and then realised why he’d jumped to that conclusion. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be offended. ‘“Crazy Daisy” is the name of the shop,’ I said, my lips only just managing to suppress a smile. I thrust my hand out, as though we were in a business meeting. ‘Beth,’ I supplied. ‘Beth Brandon.’
If he was surprised by the formality of my gesture, he hid it well. His own hand was almost twice the size of mine, but the handshake was everything it should be: brief, firm, and not at all damp.
‘I’m Liam,’ he said. ‘Liam Thomas.’
‘I know,’ I said, my tongue running away with itself before I could stop it. The man’s eyebrows drew a little closer together. ‘I saw the name on your wife’s headstone,’ I admitted awkwardly, which made me sou
nd like some weird kind of cemetery stalker.
Thankfully, he let that pass. ‘It was you who left the roses on Anna’s grave?’ Again, it wasn’t an Hercule-Poirot-worthy deduction. I’d always expected he’d work out who they’d come from.
‘I felt I should apologise again,’ I explained. Liam Thomas made a small hand gesture, which I took to mean that it really hadn’t been necessary. His grey storm-cloud eyes widened slightly when I continued without preamble: ‘Why were you looking for me? Come to that, how did you track me down? There’s at least a dozen other florists in town.’
I was unusually awkward around this man, and somehow everything that came out of my mouth sounded like an accusation.
‘It wasn’t exactly difficult,’ said Liam, extracting from his pocket the card I’d left with the flowers. Printed on the back was the name of the shop. It was almost as if I’d wanted him to seek me out.
I felt a flush start at my collar bones and begin to creep steadily up towards my hairline. This was the second time I’d questioned this man’s motives, when really the only one acting weirdly here was me. ‘Well, it was very nice of you to thank me,’ I said, in my best ‘let’s wind things up now’ tone, ‘but it really wasn’t necessary.’
‘I didn’t come here to thank you,’ Liam replied. ‘I came to see if this belongs to you. I found it near the flowers.’ He delved into his back pocket and extracted something delicate and sparkly. He held it in his hand, although really it belonged on mine. I gasped as I looked down at my naked wrist, unable to believe I’d mislaid something so precious and not even noticed it was gone. I lifted the bracelet from his palm, my fingers curling convulsively around it like a Venus flytrap.
‘I was right then. It’s yours?’
I nodded fiercely, my throat too tight to actually speak. Enfolded within my palm was Tim’s last gift to me. A gift that, if not for the kindness of this stranger, I’d probably never have seen again. My emotions were like wires, shredded of their protective outer sheath. That’s the only explanation I can give for embarrassingly dissolving into tears of relief.
Liam Thomas looked aghast and glanced towards the back room, obviously hoping for help in the shape of Natalie to emerge. When none came, he ran his hands over his pockets as though performing a self-service pat-down.
‘I’d offer you a tissue, except you already took my last packet,’ he said.
There was a box I kept beneath the counter for emotional customers, and I reached for it now, dabbing furiously at my eyes to stop the flow. There was probably very little left of my make-up by the time I was done, judging by the mascara stains on the wad I dropped into the bin.
Liam had spent the last few minutes carefully inspecting the grout on the tiled floor, and probably couldn’t wait to get out of there fast enough, and I could hardly blame him. But once again, I’d misjudged him.
‘Look, if this isn’t too strange, do you feel like grabbing a coffee or something? I think I spotted a café on the other side of the street.’
I nodded. Rosemary’s Kitchen was a popular spot with many of the shop owners. It was somewhere I felt safe and comfortable. Perhaps that’s why instead of politely declining the invitation, I looked up into Liam Thomas’s concerned face, and found myself saying: ‘Okay.’
6
Beth
The rain that had started to fall made Rosemary’s appear even cosier than usual. The windows were steamed up, turning the interior into a secret coffee-scented oasis; a refuge for weary shoppers and tearful florists.
I left the shop without giving Natalie a chance to ask why I was disappearing off for coffee with a stranger. ‘Won’t be long,’ I promised, hoping to avoid her curious gaze, and probing questions about my red-rimmed eyes.
I’ve always walked quickly, ‘like you’re about to miss a train’, Tim used to joke, but even my usual pace was slow beside the long-legged stride of Liam Thomas. We paused at the kerb for the lights to change, and when they did I felt the barest graze of his hand touching my back as we stepped onto the zebra crossing. It was gone long before we reached the other side of the road.
Politely, he held open the café door, and then stood back to allow me to walk through it. Like Crazy Daisy, Rosemary’s Kitchen was housed in a sixteenth-century building with low ceilings and narrow doorways. I passed close enough to Liam for my sensitive nose to pick out the base notes of his shower gel or body spray. The cocktail of bergamot and vanilla was pleasing, but the proximity and undeniable manliness of the aroma disturbed me. It awoke dangerous memories that I’d thought were safely locked up in my past. They had no business making their presence felt here with a total stranger.
Except this stranger was a man who actually knew more about me than even those closest to me, I acknowledged, as I allowed him to steer a path towards one of the secluded booths at the back of the café.
‘Is here okay?’ I’m sure what he really meant was: Are you comfortable sitting this far away from the other customers with someone you don’t know? The fact that he’d thought to ask answered that question for me. Even in the middle of a deserted cemetery he’d posed no threat or given me a single moment of disquiet. I had no qualms at all as I slid into the booth.
Liam folded his tall body onto the seat opposite me. The sheer length of his legs meant that our knees were touching, so I swivelled to one side to avoid the contact.
‘Hello, Beth. We don’t normally see you here at this time of the day. What can I get you? Your usual?’
I nodded, smiling as I looked into the kindly face of Rosemary, the café’s namesake and owner. ‘And how about you, sweetheart?’ she asked, turning her attention to Liam. I saw her eyes twinkle appreciatively as she took in my companion, despite the fact he was a good ten years her junior. Her wide red-lipstick smile and impressively endowed chest usually vied for the attention of most male customers, but Liam was looking only at me. I think that scored him big points with Rosemary, and maybe with me too, if I was honest enough to admit it.
‘I’ll have whatever Beth is drinking,’ he said, passing his menu back unread. It was the first time he’d said my name, and it felt both strangely odd and familiar at the same time.
When Rosemary bustled away to get our coffee, there was a small awkward moment between us. I was trying very hard not to fill it by apologising again, but the urge to do so was strong. I truly don’t think I’d ever said ‘sorry’ so many times to someone I scarcely knew.
I rearranged the bowl of sugar sachets, and then moved the glass vase holding a carnation several times before forcing my hands to be still. When I glanced up, I saw Liam watching me with a thoughtful expression on his face. There was a quiet and peace about him, as he patiently waited for me to settle. I had a sudden insight that he used those qualities to good effect however he earned his living. He could be a detective biding his time to uncover the truth; or a priest, listening without judgement to a confession. He cleared his throat lightly as though about to speak, and my eyes flew upwards. Don’t be a priest. The thought popped into my head so unexpectedly that for a moment I thought I might actually have said the words out loud. He was still looking at me as though I was relatively sane, so I don’t think I had.
‘It’s nice here. Cosy. Do you—’
‘—come here often?’ I completed cheesily. It was exactly the right thing to say, and the sound of the ice cracking was a very welcome interruption.
‘That did sound incredibly corny,’ he admitted, with a self-deprecating laugh.
I felt an unexpected sense of peace wash over me. It came on so suddenly that the revelation was almost a shock. This man was going to be my friend. Maybe not right now… but definitely at some point in our future. I hadn’t felt so certain about anything in a very long time, but oddly about this, I had no doubts. It immediately relaxed me.
Rosemary arrived with two caramel lattes with extra whipped cream, and even though I suspected Liam was more of a strong espresso kind of a man, he accepted my choice of drink
with good grace.
I waited until we were alone again before lifting my wrist, around which Tim’s bracelet was once more securely fastened. ‘I can’t thank you enough for returning this to me. It… it was…’ Embarrassingly, I could hear a tearful catch in my throat. I washed it down with a large mouthful of latte. ‘It was a gift from my husband.’
Liam nodded knowingly, and it wasn’t just the polite and well-intentioned lip service that people pay to the bereaved. He understood; he really did. Because he’d been walking down this particular road even longer than I had.
‘It’s the small things that can set you off, isn’t it?’ he said, startling me by practically reading my thoughts, as though they were floating in great big cartoon bubbles above my head. ‘Some stuff you can let go. Some of it you pack up in a box and give to the charity shop, but other things… weird stupid things… well, they’d be what you’d reach for if your house was on fire.’
I looked up, and the depth of understanding in his slate-grey eyes almost took my breath away. For the first time, I realised how good it felt to talk to someone who actually understood. I’d never wanted to visit a bereavement group or see a counsellor. My misery was so deep it had wanted no company. But now, sitting here with a man I didn’t really know, I wondered if I’d been wrong. Perhaps being in a boat with other shipwreck survivors actually did help after all.
‘Tim’s dressing gown is still on the back of my bathroom door,’ I said, shocking myself as the words popped out of their own volition. Perhaps Liam really was a priest! That certainly wasn’t anything I’d admitted to anyone before.
‘Anna’s toothbrush is still in the bathroom cabinet,’ Liam countered, seeing my confession and raising it.
We nodded in total understanding, and I saw the same recognition of a future friendship glint in his eyes. I could tell it surprised him, but then he gave a small private nod to himself as the idea, once sown, quietly began to take root.
