So no, I didn’t want to tell him about it, because I didn’t want to feel angry about it when he said what I knew he would inevitably say.
The day I decided to return was a warm June day, and as I walked through the park I tried not to think about the last time I was here, almost running in the opposite direction. Away from Emma.
It was quiet here today, hardly anyone around, and I was glad. My rucksack was making my back damp, and the sun felt hot on my head. A dog squatted under a tree, its owner glancing round furtively to see whether anyone had noticed or whether they could get away with leaving their pet’s doings on the grass where young children played. When they caught my eye, I looked away, not in the mood for any kind of confrontation, and felt immediately guilty.
It didn’t take me long to get to the bandstand and as it came into sight I spotted a woman sitting on the bench and for a moment my heart flipped over.
But of course I knew that, even if Emma was there, I wouldn’t be able to see her from here. Which meant that this woman must be real, right now in 1999. The disappointment felt like a rock in my throat.
As I stepped inside she looked up from the book she was reading and gave me a brief smile. By the time I’d smiled back she was looking back down at her book again. I settled on the other end of the bench, the end I usually sat, and looked out into the park. I watched a young mum walking past holding hands with a toddler, a young girl no more than two or three. They were chatting animatedly, the little girl bouncing up and down excitedly and I felt a pang I hadn’t felt in a long time. Becoming parents had always been so important to Dawn and me, had consumed our world for the few years before she died. And despite everything, I’d never doubted that it would happenone day. Except now, here I was, aged thirty-one, and I couldn’t imagine ever meeting anyone else I’d want to be with enough to start a family with. It felt like a punch in the gut.
As the pair disappeared round the corner I looked the other way, wondering exactly where the playground was that Emma had mentioned. When had it been built? There was a clear space without any trees across the other side of the path close to the toilets and next to where the ice cream van was usually parked, perhaps it was there. I hoped they didn’t cut any trees down to accommodate it. And when had they planted the rose bushes to create the rose garden that Emma had been able to see?
I tipped my head back and closed my eyes and tried to conjure Dawn’s face. It was safer to think about Dawn, to remember her, than to dwell on Emma. Because although I couldn’t have either of them, at least nothing had tainted my memories of Dawn. At least they were still honest and unsullied. Uncomplicated.
A shuffling sound made me open my eyes again. Beside me, the woman was getting ready to leave. I waited while she stuffed her book in her bag and looked around then, as she stepped into the park, I said, ‘Have a lovely day.’
She flashed me a smile. ‘You too.’
It was as she walked away that I spotted it.
It was just a flash of white at first, so tiny I thought I must have imagined it. But when I stood up and moved closer, I could see there was definitely something there. A piece of paper, wedged into the gap between the wooden post and the metal railing. I reached my hand out and tugged at it, but it didn’t budge.
Intrigued, I bent down, peering into the crevice. How on earth had something got caught in there? I stuck my index finger and thumb into the gap and pinched the paper between them, tugging gently so as not to rip it. Slowly, it started to inchtowards me, and after a bit more tugging, it came free. I was surprised how big it was – the size of a small letter. In fact, itwasa letter, it seemed. How had a letter got stuck right down there?
I looked around, wondering whether someone might be missing it. The paper looked clean and pretty new. But of course, it was unlikely to have just been lost, because it had been well and truly wedged into the gap.
I looked down and turned the envelope over in my hand – and that’s when I stopped dead.
My name was printed on the front in neat, handwritten letters.
Why was my name on it?
I turned it over and glanced up again. Glanced back. My heart thumped and my vision tunnelled and I slumped down onto the end of the bench, the paper shaking in my hands.
And then it hit me.
It had to be from Emma.
I pictured her, writing this letter, sealing it and bringing it here, looking for somewhere to hide it where I’d be likely to find it, and fury forked through me like lightning. Howdareshe do this. How dare she, despite the fact that I’d walked away from her knowing full well she wouldn’t be able to find me again, still take it upon herself to write to me?
Hadn’t I made it clear enough that I couldn’t do this any more?
Hadn’t she understood – even agreed with me?
I stood, searching across the park for a bin. I couldn’t keep this. I’d always be tempted to open it, and no matter what she wanted to say to me, I didn’t want to hear it.
But there was no bin in sight so instead I stuffed the letter into my rucksack, threw it over my shoulder, and stomped home. I’d decide what to do with it when I got there.
21
EMMA
Rachel had been staring at me for so long without saying a word that I was beginning to wonder whether she’d slipped into an alternate universe too.
I waved my hand in front of her face. ‘Er, hello, earth to Rachel?’
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Rachel and I had been friends for a long time, but I had never seen her lost for words before. Normally, she had plenty to say about everything.
