‘It’ll be all right Erin. I’ll protect you.’
I looked him in eye and it felt as though he was looking directly into my soul. I wondered whether he could see the turmoil I was in.
‘Let’s do it,’ I agreed.
‘Brilliant.’ He climbed out of the car and stalked towards the shack, and tugged the door open. I followed him. ‘A friend from work, Andy, owns a rowing boat which he moors here, and he said we can use it,’ he called, his voice muffled from the depths of the shed. Seconds later he emerged looking triumphant, brandishing two dusty-looking oars.
‘The boat’s over there,’ he said, pointing to a small jetty marching out into the water, utterly uninviting in this weather. Although the rain had stopped now, the wind still found a path through the shelter of the trees, and I shivered as another gust pelted me.
‘Are you cold?’ Greg said.
‘A little.’
‘Wait there.’ He walked to the boot of the car, propped the oars against it, then pulled out a waterproof coat which he wrapped around my shoulders. He lingered there for a moment and I could feel his breath against my ear. I wondered whether he was going to say something, but then he pulled away. I couldn’t work out whether I was relieved or disappointed.
‘Okay, you ready?’
I glanced at the tiny rowing boat and the steely water, then nodded. ‘I guess so.’
Greg climbed in first, taking the picnic basket with him, then the oars, then finally holding out his hand to help me in. As I stepped inside, the whole boat rocked wildly and I tipped towards him, the bodily contact sudden and unexpected. He helped me sit, then gripped the oars tightly, and pushed off from the bank of the lake. I watched as he rowed and for the first time in months I saw him as the man I’d fallen in love with all those years ago: the strong, capable man who would do anything for me, who looked after me. I pulled the coat he’d brought me tighter round my shoulders and felt a surge of love for him. He looked up then and saw me watching him and I stuck my tongue out.
‘Charming,’ he said, doing the same to me.
We sat quietly for a while, just the sound of Greg breathing, of the wind sliding across the water, of small waves splashing up against the side of the boat, and I let the rhythm soothe me. The water was so dark it was impossible to know what was hidden beneath the surface and I stared down into it and let my thoughts drift.
I’d felt untethered, these past few weeks. This moment here, on this lake, on a freezing winter day, was just what I’d needed to feel grounded again, and it struck me that was what Greg was so good at, the way no-one else was: knowing what I needed, and when. The days after Mum’s diagnosis had been some of the hardest of my life as I’d struggled to deal with the news. Greg had been the one person who’d understood the depth of my feelings, that I was terrified of losing my mum forever. He’d held me and let me sob when the tears had come, had let me drink too much, and cry and wail, knowing it would be cathartic, healing. Adam, meanwhile, had hardly let the news cause a ripple on the surface of his otherwise smooth life. I shook that thought away. It was disingenuous to bring Adam into my thoughts now. This was about me and Greg.
The truth was, just like he always did, Greg had got today completely spot on. This was exactly the tonic I needed, to remind myself of who I was. Of who we were.
‘Penny for them.’ Greg’s words broke my reverie and I smiled at him. We’d stopped now, and were floating in the middle of the lake. The shack looked a million miles away, the sky above us hung like a dirty blanket, the greyness breaking every now and then to reveal a promising chink of blue.
‘Sorry, I was miles away,’ I said, rubbing my hands together for warmth.
‘I wish I’d been there with you.’
Oh Greg, you really don’t. ‘I couldn’t even tell you what I was thinking about,’ I said. ‘So, what now?’
‘Well, I’d planned a picnic.’ He indicated the bag by my feet. ‘But you look frozen. Do you want to go back and eat it in the car?’
The truth was I was chilled to the core and heading back to the car sounded like heaven. But this obviously meant a lot to Greg.
‘No, let’s stay.’ I glanced upwards. ‘You never know, it might still warm up.’
‘Ever the optimist,’ he said, grinning at me.
‘So, what have you got in this cool box?’ I said, leaning forward. I stopped. ‘I assume I’m allowed to open it now?’
‘Yes, go on.’
I lifted the lid. There, nestled among a few ice packs, was a bottle, some plastic tumblers and a couple of Tupperware tubs.
He pulled a flask out of his bag. ‘I’ve got hot tea as well because – well, it’s bloody freezing. But you recognise it, right?’
I pulled the bottle out and read the label. Asti Spumanti. ‘I recognise it.’ I smiled.
I took the rest of the items out of the bag and prised the lids off. Cheese slices, Jacob’s cream crackers, a bunch of grapes, a tube of Pringles and a bar of Dairy Milk.
‘The picnic we had on that first day—’ He stopped. ‘I just thought… Well, you know what I thought.’
