‘You didn’t. I was going to tell you.’
‘Do you miss him?’
‘All the time.’
‘How did it happen? Was he ill?’
I tell him the whole story, recalling opening the door to the policeman. He wouldn’t have suffered any pain, he said. It was of no comfort then. It’s more comfort now.
Angus tells me he doesn’t know what to say. ‘Except I’m glad you decided to come to the café. Kind of makes sense now, why you did.’
I feel relieved to have told both him and Nina. I don’t want to hide Jamie anymore. I want him to be a part of this new chapter, a part of the café and the new friendships I’m making. I don’t want to hide myself anymore. ‘And you, Angus? Are you seeing your children this weekend?’
‘Nope, not this weekend.’
From the way he says it, I can tell it hurts.
I sigh. ‘What a pair we are.’
We both laugh at that, knowing if we didn’t, we might cry.
I am taken aback by how much I want to wrap my arms around Angus, tell him, as much as myself, that everything will be all right in the end. Something draws me to him, maybe it’s his humour or his vulnerability, or maybe I’m about to ask him this because I sense he’s as lonely as I am. ‘Angus, would you like to meet up tomorrow? Go for a walk or have something to eat?’
‘Oh,’ is all he says, with a little too much hesitancy.
‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to, you can say no, I mean you’re probably busy, so don’t—’
‘Stop right there. It’s a date. Well, not a date, but—’
‘I know what you mean,’ I finish, noticing my heart beating faster than it should.
The following morning, I set out to the park, excited to seeing Angus again. Last night Milla had asked me more questions about my new friend, questions I didn’t know half the answers to, making me realise how much I wanted to hear a few more chapters of his life, join some of the dots. I suggested eleven-thirty and then a pub lunch. ‘Let’s meet under the arch, by the garden centre.’
‘Under the arch, by the garden centre,’ he’d repeated, along with the time. ‘I’ll be there.’
So much for being there. It’s now a quarter to twelve and no sign of Angus. I’m about to send him a message when I realise we didn’t even exchange mobile numbers.
I decide to wait another ten minutes or so, but my hope is fading fast. And so is my pride. I call it quits, taking a look around the garden centre instead. I need to plant something in my window boxes, and I could treat myself to some herbs for my back garden. And I might grab some lunch from the café. The café is packed with couples and families. I notice a man holding his girlfriend’s hand across the table. I order a portion of salad for one, feeling as miserable and small as the box it’s in.
‘Holly,’ Milla says, surprised I’m calling her so soon. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘He didn’t turn up,’ I say, wishing I didn’t sound upset. I have no idea why I care so much.
‘What? Why? No, Emily, wait. Mummy’s on the phone. Hang on, Holly, I’m so sorry. Put everything back in the box, Emily! We’ve been playing snakes and ladders,’ she explains.
‘And then it’s lunch. Roast chicken. Wash your hands, guys,’ I overhear Dave say.
How I long, in that moment, to be in the warmth of her kitchen, playing games with the twins. My idea of doing voluntary work, to get out of my rut and meet new people, rather than escape to my parents in the country, or hang out with Milla and Dave every weekend, now feels like a bad decision.
‘Maybe something came up, Holly,’ Milla says, ‘an emergency with his kids.’
‘Mummy, I’m hungry!’ I hear.
‘Wait! I’m on the phone to Auntie Holly.’
‘Go,’ I insist. ‘Honestly, I’m fine.’
‘He could have called though.’
