I look at him and then the café door opens and my heart seems to freeze.
‘Aw, aren’t they cute!’ a customer exclaims. Two little dachshunds have trotted in. Not by themselves, of course. Alice has swept in, silvery bob immaculate, in slim black trousers and her camel trench.
‘Hello, Adele!’ she says brightly to the girl behind the counter. She doesn’t spot us at first. She peruses the goods behind the counter and then she turns and blinks at me in surprise.
Instinctively, I raise a hand and jump up from my seat. ‘Alice!’
She has already turned back to the counter to ask for her favourite seeded loaf. ‘Alice,’ I say again, at her side now. ‘I... I wondered if we could have a chat...’
She seems to appraise me with distaste. It’s as if I’m a door-to-door salesperson, come to harangue her into buying something she doesn’t want.
‘Here you go, Alice,’ the girl says, handing over her loaf in a brown paper bag.
‘Thank you.’ She takes it from her and says, quickly, ‘You could have told me, Kate. You could have explained. How foolish d’you think I felt, when I called the agency and they said they’d emailed me to explain that Kate Harper had had some family illness to deal with and had to pull out of the job? And they’d sent me some other CVs but had heard nothing from me?’
‘I’m sorry. I really I am,’ I murmur, my eyes brimming with sudden tears.
‘Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I should have checked my emails more carefully,’ she says tersely.
‘It’s not your fault! It’s all mine,’ I insist. ‘Every bit of it. I don’t know what else to tell you, Alice. Except that I loved my time with you. And I’d do it all over again, in a second—’
‘Well, thankfully you won’t need to,’ she snaps, bidding the young woman a quick goodbye before murmuring, ‘Come on, girls. We have things to do.’
And then she’s gone, and I’m aware of Vince standing up, flinging his rucksack over a shoulder and quickly paying our bill at the counter. We step outside where he pulls me into his arms.
‘I’m so sorry. I really landed you in it, didn’t I?’
‘It’s not your fault,’ I say quickly. ‘C’mon. Let’s go.’
He keeps glancing at me as we stride along the narrow street, lined with quaint cafés and gift shops, towards the station. ‘Are you okay?’ he asks.
I nod, wishing I could run back and find her and explain. Instead, we sit on a bench on the platform, waiting for Vince’s train home. His eyes are lowered now, his mouth set in a grim line. ‘Vince,’ I start, ‘never mind me and the mess I’ve made of things. Areyouokay?’
‘Yeah. I’m fine.’ He turns to me, and he’s clearlynotfine as he envelops me in a hug.
I realise my husband is crying. Properly crying, I mean. He wasn’t even like this when his dad, and then his mum, died.
We hold each other tightly, no longer our middle-aged selves, worn around the edges and addled by age. We are those young people who met, and loved each other, when everything was thrilling and new.
He pulls back, wiping his face with a hand and looking at me. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says.
‘What for?’ I ask, genuinely not knowing.
‘For being mean and horrible about so many things. About your vests—’
‘My vests?’ I exclaim.
‘And for pointing out that hair growing out of your chin,’ he says, trying for a joke now.
‘Better than me walking around with it, poking people in the face—’
‘You’re my love,’ Vince cuts in suddenly. ‘Your vests are too! And your big old-lady pants!’
‘You love my vests and old-lady pants?’
He nods wordlessly, and then we laugh. Then: ‘Are you going to come back home, Kate?’ he asks, his gaze searching mine. ‘Or is this your home now? Are you staying here forever?’
I start to speak but the words won’t come.Nothing has to be forever if you don’t want it to be.‘I don’t know, Vince...’
