The Last Goodbye

by Fiona Lucas

  She hugged the chilly plastic box to herself. “Thank you for the vol-au-vents,” she said, then gave Gayle a quick kiss and walked away.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Do you like vol-au-vents?”

  Brody was once again sitting in the armchair in his study. Lewis warmed his feet, and his mobile phone was alive and making noise, but this time there was also a tumbler of good single malt beside him on the occasional table with barley twist legs. He frowned. Had Anna just said what he thought she’d said?

  “Brody?”

  He decided to run with it, even though it was a totally bizarre way to start a conversation. “What kind of vol-au-vents?”

  She gave an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know! Does it matter?”

  “Tinned salmon, definitely no. Egg mayonnaise, not if you paid me. Prawn cocktail? Maybe. So I’d say it matters.”

  “I was talking about vol-au-vents more as a general principle. As a concept.”

  Vol-au-vents as a concept. This was something new to Brody. Thinking deeply and abstractly about flaky, retro party food was not something he’d ever imagined himself doing, but he found he was relishing the prospect because he was thinking about something new, something different from the same old things that ran around the worn track inside his head day after day.

  “No,” he said thoughtfully, firmly. “I’m not sure I do like vol-au-vents.”

  “Thank you!” Anna said, and the relief and validation in her tone had him imagining her collapsing back into an armchair, argument won, even though he had no idea what the battle had been about or who she was having it with.

  He tried to imagine what she looked like as he talked to her. It was strange just to hear a voice and have no visual to go with it. He pictured Anna with long hair with a bit of a wave, delicate features. Large eyes. He probably imagined her that way because the first time he’d spoken to her, she’d sounded childlike. Not innocent or immature—she’d experienced too much for that—but in the sense that she’d sounded lost.

  “So what’s with this sudden obsession with canapés?” he asked, one corner of his mouth kicking up in a smile. “If you want to get started on sausage rolls, I have quite strong opinions about those.”

  Anna laughed. Brody had forgotten how good it felt to make someone do that. The air around him felt warmer. “Really? Sausage rolls?” she said.

  “I’ve become quite fussy about sausages in general, not just those wrapped in pastry,” he said, aware how much of an old codger that made him sound but somehow not minding. “Maybe it’s living in the country. There are some great farm shops nearby.” Ones that delivered and let you pay online, thankfully, but he didn’t tell her that.

  “Where are you?”

  “Devon.”

  “Oh, Devon is lovely,” she said wistfully. “I once had a holiday there, a really good holiday . . .” She broke off, and Brody guessed she was thinking about her husband. He waited, not minding, wondering if the recollection made her happy or sad. Holidays were simultaneously the best and the worst memories, he’d found, packed as they were with new places and new experiences, which made them richer and more colorful than everyday life.

  Anna sighed again, and when she spoke it was clear she’d pulled the plug on whatever mental slideshow she’d been watching. “I’m not a country girl,” she said ruefully. “I can only just tell one end of a cow from the other. I live in—”

  “Don’t tell me!”

  “Oh . . .” She sounded puzzled. “Why not?”

  “Because I’m a stranger, really. Would you tell a random stranger where you live?” He realized he’d be worried about her if she did.

  “Well, no . . . But—”

  “I’m thinking about your safety. I could be a deranged, axe-murdering stalker and you’d never know.”

  Anna laughed again. This time it was deeper, more from her belly. He was starting to find that sound a little addictive. “Are you?” she asked, trying to sound serious—and failing.

  “No,” Brody replied, trying not to smile, because he had a valid point to make. He also failed miserably. “But I would say that, wouldn’t I? Especially if I was a deranged, axe-murdering stalker.”

  “Brody, you seem to forget who keeps phoning whom out of the blue. If anything, I’m the one to worry about.”

  There was that.

  “Anyway,” she continued, “I live in London. In the suburbs. With almost nine million people in this city, I don’t think it’s too perilous for me to reveal that.”

  “No,” he replied. “But maybe we should consider that, technically, we are strangers. We’ve only talked a handful of times. Just for now, maybe we should stick to the basics: general locations, first names only.”

  Anna was silent for a moment. “Okay. I suppose that’s sensible.”

  He was telling himself he was suggesting all this secrecy, this anonymity, to protect Anna, but was that the whole truth? Wasn’t there a little bit of him that was eager to protect himself as well? If she didn’t know exactly where he lived, she could only ever exist at the end of the phone line, and that was a very safe distance indeed. Had his need for isolation become that complete?

  “Anyway,” Anna said, with the tone of someone switching tack, “about the vol-au-vents. I suppose I ought to explain . . .” And she launched into a story about her husband’s family that had him wincing and smiling in equal measure.

  When she’d finished her tale, he sighed and said, “You know what your problem is?”

  “Please, do enlighten me,” she said in a smooth tone that only just hid her sarcasm.

  “You let your mother-in-law have all the power.”

  Anna’s voice shifted up an octave. “What? No, I don’t! I don’t let her have anything. She stole it. She hijacked it!”

  “Nope,” Brody said, still smiling. “You gave it to her. And you’re still giving it to her, every time you interact with her.”

  “No, I’m not!” He almost expected steam to wisp out of his phone as she fumed for a few silent seconds, but then she added, “Am I . . . ?”

  “I think you might be.”

  “How?” she almost wailed.

  He took a sip of his whisky and thought about the best way to put it. “When something big happens, something devastating, you can’t process anything else because of the shock of it—your brain just goes into shutdown, only doing what’s absolutely necessary to keep you functioning.”

  Anna made a noise of recognition. “That sounds about right.”

  “So you just react to everything that’s happening around you. No planning, no proactive choices, just reacting. And it’s easy to get stuck in that loop.” He should know. He’d spent a few years in that place. “If you want to take back control, you need to stop reacting. To her.”

  “Well, that’s very easy to say, but how do I actually do that?”

  Brody’s mouth twisted. “Damned if I know. She’s your mother-in-law. You’ll have to work that one out on your own, just like I had to with mine.”

  Anna didn’t reply straightaway and, at first, he thought she was considering her advice, but when she spoke again, it was obvious her thoughts had led her down another path. “Are you married?” she asked, her tone wary.

  Brody knew what she was asking: Should they be talking like this? It was innocent, to be sure, but there was something about the easy intimacy they’d fallen into so quickly that would have rung alarm bells for him once upon a time.

  “No. I’m not married. Not anymore.”

  “Oh.” She fell silent again. “I knew there was a reason you understood. You’ve lost someone too.”

  The obvious answer was yes, he did. He had. But Brody didn’t want to give the obvious answer, so he stayed silent.

  “Was it a ‘her’ or a ‘him’—the person you lost?”

  He hadn’t planned on telling her anything, but then he heard himself say, “Her.”

  There was a pause as she absorbed that fact. “How long ago?�
�

  “Nine years.” His mouth just kept moving, despite himself. It was most strange. He put his glass down decisively. “Listen, Anna . . . I probably ought to go. Lewis is asking for a walk before we settle down for the night.” He glanced down at Lewis, who was snoring gently at his feet and hadn’t even lifted an ear at the mention of his name. All the warmth that had gathered while he’d been talking about stupid things like sausage rolls and vol-au-vents drained away, leaving him more than a little disgusted with himself.

  “Oh, okay . . .” Her tone was confused, and rightly so, but he wouldn’t let himself register the tinge of disappointment in it.

  “Goodb—”

  “Don’t say that word,” she said quickly. “Remember?”

  “I do now,” he said, but her answer gave him hope he hadn’t just ruined the chance of her calling back ever again. He had the feeling that the day she said it to him, he’d never hear from her again. He was glad that day wasn’t today.

  “Say something else,” she added softly.

  He thought for a moment. “Till next time.”

  From the way she breathed, he could tell she was smiling. “Till next time,” she echoed, and then she was gone. The study didn’t seem as cozy after that.

  He reached down and rubbed Lewis’s belly. The dog opened one eye and yawned. “Come on,” he said. “Don’t make me a worse liar than I already am. It’s time for you to go down the garden.”

  He followed his dog out into the yard and stared up at the night sky. Thanks to his remote location, he often was able to see more stars than he could count, yet tonight there was nothing but thick gray clouds. It seemed fitting. She was so honest, so open with him, and he was giving her the impression he was being the same with her, but he wasn’t. He really wasn’t.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Gabi and Anna arrived at the civic center just as their salsa class started. There were about a hundred people in the hall, most arranged into large circles with women on the outside, men on the inside, and a few stragglers, like the two of them, were shrugging off jackets or changing shoes. Gabi spotted Lee across the room and waved wildly, before blowing him a kiss.

  She turned to Anna, who was changing her sneakers for shoes with a low heel. “Thank you for doing this—for swapping to the Wednesday night class. With Lee’s new shift change, we lost two more nights when we could see each other.”

  Anna looked up at her as she fastened the buckle on one of her shoes. “You know I was happy to do it.” She looked down again and tried to stifle a fluttering in her stomach. She’d told the truth—she was happy to do this for Gabi, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t a little nervous for herself.

  Because Wednesday nights didn’t just mean Wednesday nights, did they? They meant Jeremy. A picture of him at the Valentine’s event popped into her head, and even though that had been months ago, her stomach did a little roll. It was most disconcerting.

  Anna noticed their teacher scowling in their direction. “We’d better get a move on,” she said and dragged Gabi into the beginners’ circle alongside her.

  To begin with, most of Anna’s attention was taken up with mastering a couple of new steps, but then she caught Jeremy’s eye across the room. He nodded and smiled. Her Not Spencer alarm remained silent, which was reassuring, so Anna nodded and smiled back.

  But maybe she shouldn’t be scared if her little internal alarm did trip. Hadn’t she said to Brody that she didn’t want to be alone for the rest of her life? The journey had to start somewhere. There would be no possibility of that if she ran a mile in the other direction every time she clapped eyes on anyone remotely suitable.

  She had to give herself permission, she realized, to be open to the possibility of a new relationship—even love—in the future, no matter if it seemed nonsensical in the present. Spencer wouldn’t have wanted her to wither and shrivel without him. Yet, all she’d done since his death was hibernate. Anna let that thought sit in the back of her mind while the class continued.

  When nine o’clock rolled around, they thanked their teachers and Anna went to get her coat and shoes.

  “Lee and I are going to the Three Compasses,” Gabi said, appearing beside her. “Want to come?”

  The pub along the road was a regular haunt for some of the salsa students after class. Gabi had gone there on a Tuesday sometimes, but Anna had always made an excuse and headed home. It was clear from the way Gabi didn’t wait for an answer but busied herself putting on her jacket that she expected Anna to do the same tonight too.

  Anna laced her sneakers and straightened. “Actually, I think I will. Just a quick one—and then I’ll head off and leave you two to have some time together.”

  Gabi rewarded her with a dazzling smile. “Great! I’ll go and get Lee.” She returned a short while later with her boyfriend, hanging on to his arm so tightly that Anna wasn’t sure there was a millimeter of space between their bodies. It gave her a little pang to watch them. She and Spencer had been just the same, even after they’d been married a few years.

  Despite the fact that the southeast of England had been experiencing a bit of a heat wave for early May, great purple clouds loomed on the horizon and it had been drizzling steadily most of the evening. Anna observed Gabi and Lee, practically Velcroed together, as they hurried the short distance to the Three Compasses, her presence alongside them almost forgotten.

  They were just at the door to the pub when Gabi stopped suddenly. “Oh, no,” she said, looking down at her torso and feeling around her shoulders with her hands. “I think I left my scarf at the civic center.” She looked at Lee in horror. “It’s my favorite one, the one you bought me from Camden Market!”

  Lee’s serious police officer side snapped to attention. “Where did you last see it?”

  “On one of the gray plastic chairs near the door,” Gabi said, her brow furrowing.

  “You two go ahead,” Lee said. “I’ll go back and find it.”

  “My hero,” Gabi said softly, and he winked, saluted her, and jogged away.

  Anna noticed him smile at a couple of girls heading for the pub, and when she turned to look at Gabi, she saw Gabi had noticed it too. “It’s okay,” she said to Anna, as they pushed the ornately engraved glazed Victorian doors open and entered the pub. “It’s just how Lee is.”

  “I know . . .” Anna said. Lee certainly was a notorious flirt.

  Gabi looked serious. “I know he gives it all that South London, cheeky chappy banter, but you don’t need to worry. He told me he’s a one-man woman now.”

  Anna chuckled. “Don’t you mean a one-woman man?”

  Gabi made a face. “Yes. That! What I’m trying to say is that he has told me that I’ve got nothing to worry about. He’s all mine.”

  “I’m glad,” Anna said. She so wanted this one to work out for Gabi.

  When their drinks arrived, they moved away from the bar and found a little table in easy view of the door so Lee would find them when he returned. Indeed, it wasn’t long before the ornate doors swung open and he appeared, triumphant, waving Gabi’s scarf. He came over to the table and claimed a kiss as a reward as he looped it round his girlfriend’s neck, then reached for his waiting beer.

  “I ran into a few waifs and strays when I went back,” he said, after taking a long sip. “Told ’em they could come and join us. Hope you don’t mind.” The pub door opened again and a dozen or so people trailed in, all members of the salsa class. There was Big John, the girl with the ponytail and . . . Jeremy.

  There wasn’t enough room for the whole group to sit down, so someone suggested the pub garden. The ground was wet, but it had just about stopped raining and the clouds must have rolled off in another direction because all Anna could see was a dusky-blue sky.

  When they got outside, Anna expected the rest of the group to split into smaller huddles of conversation. This would have allowed her to employ her usual tactic of hovering on the fringes, but Jeremy began to tell a story about how he’d accidentally g
ot roped into taking part in a flamenco show when on holiday in Spain and everyone gathered around to listen. It seemed that, just like someone else Anna used to know, he could hold the attention of a group easily, charming them, entertaining them.

  She laughed along with the others as he described his efforts in his mostly forgotten schoolboy Spanish to tell the dancers they should pick someone else from the audience. It felt safe to allow herself to relax a little because he was talking to the whole group, and she didn’t feel singled out, the sole focus of his attention. Be open, she reminded herself. That’s all for now.

  There was a brief moment where his gaze landed on Anna, just as she’d been staring at his face, trying to work out what exactly it was that made the arrangement of his features pleasing. Their eyes met and locked, just for a second. Despite her not having heard a peep from her Not Spencer alarm all night, it now started pulsing like a heartbeat.

  Shut up, she told it. There’s nothing to get your knickers in a twist about. I’m not going to leap on the man. I’m just admiring him. From afar.

  And that was okay, she realized. To appreciate a nice-looking man.

  She was still young, and it was only natural. To be honest, it was quite a relief to know that this vital part of her hadn’t withered and died with Spencer, as she’d assumed it had. Those needs and desires were still there, waiting for her to have need of them.

  And, in the spirit of embracing new experiences, when the salsa crew did inevitably splinter into different groups, Anna didn’t slink away when Jeremy came over to say hello. They were right in the middle of a conversation about old Hitchcock movies when the heavens opened. The umbrellas listing through the central holes of each picnic table were hanging limply, leaving them with no shelter from the fat drops of rain that seemed to target them like tiny bombs.