PART I
1
EMMA
It had been an absolute horror of a day when it happened: clients demanding the impossible, my boss taking her frustration out on me and then, to top it all off, someone stealing my home-made salad from the communal fridge. Now, as I stomped along the familiar path through the park towards home, I couldn’t get the injustice of it all out of my head.
Luckily, the more distance I put between me and the office, the more the fury began to subside, gradually reducing from a raging torrent to a trickle, until, in its place settled an exhaustion so intense I thought my legs might give way.
I stopped dead in the middle of the path, suddenly desperate to sit down. To my right, a group of pre-teens were playing a rowdy game of rounders. To my left, a few metres away, was the rose garden, inside which stood the bandstand that only occasionally hosted any music, but was a popular choice for teenagers to smoke and snog, away from parents’ prying eyes. It was empty right now though, so I hurried towards it. A cool breeze stirred the roses, and the sun hovered above the treetops like a large round of cheese as I sank gratefully onto the bench, closed my eyes, and tipped my face up towards the light. As theevening sun warmed my skin, the tension began to leave my body, draining away like bath water down a plughole. The light behind my eyelids glowed orange, and an occasional cheer from the rounders game drifted through my mind, barely causing a ripple.
In the old days, before Greg died, I would have wanted nothing more than to go straight home and off-load my worries and stresses of the day onto him. He would have done the same in return and, although he rarely let the little things get to him in the way I knew I often did, it always helped to know we had each other’s backs, no matter what. But these days the only thing I had to hurry home for was another depressing meal for one, a glass of wine, and re-watching episodes ofFleabaguntil my eyeballs shrivelled up. It wasn’t the most appealing or enticing thought.
In fact it made the space inside me where Greg should be swell a little more, so that I felt even emptier than usual. I swiped at my cheek and took a deep breath in and?—
‘Are you all right?’
My eyes flew open and when I turned my head there was a man beside me, watching me with a strange expression on his face. I hadn’t heard him approach and I felt suddenly vulnerable, sitting there with a damp face and no idea where this man had sprung from. I looked away without replying.
‘I’m really sorry to disturb you.’
I wanted to berate him for having disturbed me anyway, but I didn’t have the energy so instead I gave a small nod and stared out across the gardens. I hoped he’d get the hint and move away, but I could still feel him there, and eventually I looked back at him, saying nothing.
‘Sorry, I’m not a weirdo,’ he said, with a small smile. ‘I just hate seeing people sad. I should leave you be.’
I shook my head. ‘It’s fine. I’m fine. But thank you.’
He hooked his right ankle onto his left knee and spread his fingers across his calf. They were long and slender and, I couldn’t help but notice, ringless. I glanced down at my own ring finger where the gold band I should have taken off months ago still sat, etching a groove into my skin. A reminder of everything I’d lost. I don’t know why I did it to myself.
We sat in silence for a few minutes and I watched the rounders match in the distance, which seemed to have become more shouty since I’d sat down. A little to the left, a dog squatted in the grass, its owner waiting patiently with a green bag. I thought about Greg again, and how he would always laugh at people who carried bags of dog poo round with them, swinging from their belts like some kind of turdy treasure. Despite my sadness, I felt a smile spread across my lips, marvelling at how something as simple as a dog doing its business could bring Greg so vividly into my mind again, as though he was still right beside me.
‘I haven’t seen you here before,’ said the voice.
The image of Greg popped like a balloon as I shook my head.
‘I’ve not lived here long,’ I said, more out of politeness than because I particularly wanted to start a conversation with this stranger. ‘I’m just on my way home from a shitty day at work.’
‘You too hey?’
I nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at me. Then: ‘You can tell me about it if you like. I’m a good listener. At least, that’s what people tell me.’
What I really wanted to do was get up and walk home and lock myself away from the world again. But I didn’t say that because I’m far too polite. ‘I’m okay, thank you.’
‘Fair enough.’ He leaned forward and I caught a glimpse of his dark blond hair out of the corner of my eye as he lifted a small rucksack from the floor onto his lap. ‘I know you’ve probablybeen told never to accept sweets from strangers, but would you like one?’
I glanced over at the bag he was offering me. It was a paper bag, blue, with yellow writing on it picking out the words ‘Pic ’n’ Mix’ and I smiled again despite myself. I peered inside the bag and raised my eyebrows at him.
‘Fizzy cola bottles, eh?’
He grinned, his teeth slightly crooked. Dimples appeared at the side of his mouth. I looked away again. ‘What can I tell you? I’m a child.’
I laughed and stuck my hand inside, pulled out a fizzy worm and a cola bottle and popped the worm in my mouth. As I held it there a moment, letting the sugar fizz on my tongue, I tried to work out what it was that was snagging on my brain; what was slightly off about this moment. But I couldn’t grasp it, and in the end I let it go and chewed my sweet slowly.
‘God, I haven’t had one of these for years,’ I said.
‘What?! You don’t know what you’re missing.’ He held out the bag again and this time I chose a fried egg sweet.
‘Sweets like this bring back memories,’ I said, pressing the sweet onto my tongue.
