‘I play the violin,’ I said.
‘Are you any good?’
I shrugged, suddenly shy. ‘I’m not bad. I’ve played here before.’ She looked round her at the run-down space, her eyes wide. ‘Believe it or not it was actually used for concerts, years ago.’
‘That’s pretty cool.’ She reached her hand out and pressed it against the cool metal strut. ‘It’s almost as though the notes and songs are trapped somewhere in the fabric of this place, waiting for someone to hear them again.’
‘That’s a nice way to look at it,’ I said.
‘Will you play for me one day?’ Her face reddened, as though she realised what she’d just said a fraction too late.
‘I’d love to,’ I said. Dawn had always loved listening to me play, and the thought of playing for someone else made me feel strange. As though I was cheating on Dawn, perhaps. But Dawn wasn’t coming back, and I had to at least try to move on, to make a new life for myself. Not to mention that the thought of seeing Emma again filled me with a feeling of hope, and excitement. ‘I’ll bring it with me next time.’
‘Will we meet here again next time?’
Next time.
‘It seems as good a place as any, don’t you think?’
She nodded. ‘I do.’
It was getting dark again now, and even the jumper Emma had returned to me wasn’t quite enough to keep the chill away.
‘Do you want to go for a quick drink?’ I said, before I could change my mind about asking.
‘Oh. I’d love to, but I’ve actually got to get back tonight,’ she said.
I tried to ignore the disappointment that settled in my belly like a stone. Was she fobbing me off, or did she genuinely have to go?
‘No worries.’
‘Honestly, I do,’ she said, as if she could read my mind. ‘But it’s been really lovely to see you again. Are you free on Thursday?’
‘I…’ I hesitated. Thursday was sacred, mine and Andy’s curry night. And even though I knew he’d be happy to forgo it if it meant I was meeting a woman, I wasn’t sure.
‘Can you make Wednesday instead?’ I said.
‘Wednesday it is.’
She got up then, and I did the same. We stood facing each other, eyes locked. I didn’t know what to do. Should I hold out my hand? Would she expect a hug? Before I could agonise any longer, she leaned forward, pecked my cheek and smiled.
‘See you Wednesday,’ she said. I held my hand to my burning cheek as she turned and left. It wasn’t until she disappeared into the darkness of the park that I realised I should have offered to walk her home.
3
EMMA
I hadn’t exactly been lying when I told Nick I had to get back tonight. Work was manic and I had quite a bit to do before tomorrow.
But I also needed to process what had just happened. What did it mean, for example, that in the two years since Greg had died I hadn’t felt able to properly open up to Rachel, or to Mum or even my counsellor, and yet when I was with Nick, the words seemed to come easily, the desire to talk about Greg and the accident strong. Perhaps it was simply that he understood because he was grieving too.
Except I couldn’t deny that there was something more between us than simply having lost a loved one. And I definitely couldn’t get away from the fact that every time Nick and I touched it felt as though there was an explosion somewhere inside me. I’d never felt anything like it, not even with Greg, who I’d loved so much.
Did Nick feel it too?
I couldn’t be sure, but I felt certain he did.
I didn’t turn round to see whether Nick was following me but instead scurried towards the park gates. I was planning to headhome but as I emerged onto the high street I pulled my phone out of my bag and saw a couple of WhatsApp messages from Rachel, asking what I was up to. Despite previously wanting to keep this to myself, I was suddenly desperate to talk to her about it.
