I laughed. ‘Oh dear,’ I said. ‘Sounds like she got your measure.’
‘That’s what Dawn said,’ he said, chuckling.
‘Greg was the same,’ I told him. ‘He was the life and soul of any room, people always seemed to like having him around, were drawn to him. Sometimes when I was next to him I felt invisible.’
‘I’m sure you could never be invisible,’ he said.
I was about to object when he added, ‘You’re too beautiful to be invisible.’
I felt my face flush and when I looked at Nick, his cheeks were pink too. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Too much?’
I shook my head. ‘No. It was a lovely thing to say. Thank you.’
Neither of us wanted to leave that night, but it was getting cold and dark – in both our worlds – so we agreed to meet up again the following day.
‘But what if you’re not here? I mean, what if whatever this is—’ he flapped his hand around in the air ‘—isn’t here?’
‘I don’t know. But unless we stay here for the rest of our lives then we don’t really have a choice but to risk it.’
We’d left shortly afterwards, together this time, and as we stepped off the small platform of the bandstand, Nick disappeared. I held my hand out but it just swiped the air where he had been. I shivered.
Now, back at the house where I now knew he also lived, I felt strange. It was as though there were ghosts living alongside me here, and I could almost feel the presence of Nick beside me. What was he doing right now, in 1999? Was he standing right here in the hallway thinking about me, or was he in the kitchen, making dinner? Or perhaps he was in the front room watching TV, or in the bedroom, asleep. I shivered. I probably shouldn’t be thinking about him in the bedroom.
I dropped my bag in the hall and trudged towards the kitchen at the back of the house. The kitchen here was modern, dark blue cupboards and low-hanging lights, so it definitely wouldn’t be the same kitchen Nick had back then. But he was here in this space nonetheless, cooking, eating, laughing, living. Loving.
I sat on one of the bar stools and placed my phone on the worktop in front of me. I thought about the conversation Nick and I had had when we’d realised what was going on. At what point had I decided to believe him when he said we were living twenty years apart? At what point had disbelief and horror become the realisation that he was telling the truth? I also letmyself think about the moment when he told me I was beautiful, and I held it to my chest for a moment as a warm feeling flooded through me. It had been a long time since anyone had said something like that and I wanted to savour it, just for a moment.
My phone flashed with a message and for a ridiculous second my heart flared in the hope that it might be Nick. But of course, even if he was somewhere out there in the world, he wouldn’t be able to contact me.
The screen showed me it was Rachel, asking if I wanted to go to hers for dinner.
I thought about the chaos of her home – the two boys running rings round her, Iain cooking dinner, the TV blaring, and wondered whether I could face it tonight. But then I pictured the alternative – a lonely night on my own watching TV with a glass of wine and some toast, surrounded by the ghosts of the past, and I told her I’d love to.
Twenty minutes later, I was in Rachel’s kitchen, glass of wine in hand, trying to hear her over the shouts of Harry and Aiden who appeared to be having some sort of sword fight with plastic light sabres.
‘Anyway, you’re very quiet tonight. How did it go with Nick?’ she said as Iain ducked behind her and kissed the top of her head. My heart clenched with a stab of jealousy which I pushed away immediately.
I shrugged.
‘It’s okay, Iain knows about him,’ she said.
‘Honestly, Ems, I’m really happy for you,’ Iain said. ‘And I know Greg would be too.’
I felt my face flush. ‘Thanks. But it’s… it’s not that.’
Rachel stopped what she was doing and squinted at me. ‘Ems? What’s wrong?’
‘I—’ I started. But whatever I was about to say was drowned out by a crashing sound followed by a stunned silence.
‘Boys!’ they both yelled simultaneously. Behind me, Aiden and Harry were standing surrounded by shards of broken pottery looking like butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths.
‘Sorry, Mummy,’ they chorused as Rachel bent down.
‘Bollocks, that was the vase my mum gave me for my birthday,’ she said, picking up the largest pieces.
‘I’ll clear this up,’ Iain said, smoothly stepping in. ‘Why don’t you two go in the other room and talk?’
I threw him a grateful look, and Rachel and I scooted out of the kitchen as quickly as we could.
