‘I said a lot of things.’ He sips his beer. ‘You pointed out that there’s an emotional connection between people and pets, and that it’s not the same as sleeping with random livestock—’ He catches himself and laughs.
‘No, it’s definitely not.’ I look at Vince, thinking how strange yet weirdly normal it seems to be sitting here with him on a wet autumn night. In our early months together we were barely out of pubs. It was a ‘quick drink’ here, there and everywhere, in the London neighbourhoods that were mine and his, and then became ours together. And now we’re installed in a cosy, sleepy pub in a pretty little Perthshire town. There’s no drama, no further interrogation over what might be going on between Fergus and me. No anger at the way I’ve gone about things either.
A group of elderly men are chatting quietly at the bar, sipping pints. The barman made pleasantries as he served us, and a fire crackles in the hearth. ‘There was an ulterior motive,’ Vince adds, ‘for me deciding to let Jarvis sleep on the bed.’
I study his face. ‘Was he whining to be let in? Or scratching at the door?’
‘No.’ He shakes his head. ‘The bed felt massive when you’d gone. It was like Russia. Or China. Far too big for me to inhabit all by myself.’
Something twists inside me. ‘I’m sorry, Vince,’ I say truthfully. I never wanted him to feel lonely or sad. In fact, I’d wondered if he’d even care very much that I wasn’t there. It seems now that he did.
‘So, anyway, Colin’s looking after Vince while I’m here,’ Vince goes on.
‘Colin?’ I gasp.
‘Yeah. Amazing, huh? He’s off work at the moment with a torn hamstring but he reckoned he could manage some gentle walks, that it’ll help his rehabilitation.’
‘That was good of him.’
Vince nods and smiles. ‘He also said it’d be nice to have the company.’
‘Oh.’ I’m about to say,Poor Colin.But that would implyPoor Vincetoo.
‘I know I’ve been a bit mean about him,’ Vince adds. ‘But he was happy to help. Y’know, he’s actually quite a decent bloke...’
I want to hold him close to me then. Not in a holding-Fergus sort of way but because of all we’ve been through. All those years spent building a life and raising Edie and trying to get pregnant, and finally deciding it was okay as we had our wonderful, clever girl.
And so I do. We hug and then we have another drink, still avoiding those enormous subjects that we both know are hovering there. Instead, we chat like old friends who are happy to see each other. I ask about his work, and how his book’s going, and even whether he managed to build the flatpack. ‘Bit of a challenge,’ he admits.
‘But you conquered it?’
‘Yeah.’ He nods, flinching slightly. Perhaps it’s triggering for him. ‘I conquered it,’ he says with a small laugh.
He tells me about his journey, too, and how he spent the whole train ride in a fizzle of nerves – and then went out to Osprey House to find me and met Alice there.
‘How was that?’ I ask, a little alarmed.
‘A bit weird, to be honest. She seemed to think your name’s Kate Harper? So I told her it’s not. I thought that was odd, but maybe you’d been operating under a different name, undercover or something...’ As he chuckles bewilderedly I sense the blood draining from my face.
‘Oh, Jesus Christ.’
‘What?’ He stares at me. ‘Did I do something wrong?’
‘No, no. It’s fine.’ I pick up my wine glass and drain it.
His face is full of concern now as he grabs my hand. ‘The last thing I wanted was to come all the way up here and make things difficult for you!’
‘Vince, it’s okay, honestly,’ I say quickly.So it’s done now. And there’s nothing I can do about that.
At nearly closing time we get up to leave. Vince has booked in here for two nights and his room key glints on the small circular table. ‘So you’re not angry that I came?’ he asks hesitantly.
‘No, of course I’m not angry,’ I reply.
He smiles, jokingly mopping his brow, feigning relief. ‘You’re not going to throw hot oil over me?’
I laugh then, and we hug again briefly. ‘I’ll never throw hot oil over you! But what was that thing you said, about wanting to cover me in paraffin—’
‘It’s a skin-softening treatment,’ he insists. ‘I was just trying to be nice—’
