‘There’s no rush,’ he says gently.
I smile gratefully, and we sit in silence for a few moments. ‘What happened there?’ he asks finally. ‘D’you want to get out? D’you need water or?—’
‘I’m sorry.’ I rub at my face and exhale slowly. ‘I just had… a thing there.’
He frowns, still looking a little shocked. ‘Has that ever happened to you before?’
‘No,’ I mutter.
Then, instead of asking me more questions, he sits quietly and waits. ‘Just say if you need anything,’ he says.
‘Thanks.’ I open the driver’s door and climb out, grateful for the cool breeze. Stepping away from the van, I look over the flat fields, still bewildered as to what just happened. A few moments later I’m aware of Shane standing a few feet away, casting me the odd glance.
‘I think it might have been my pills,’ I say quietly.
He frowns again. ‘What pills?’
‘Antidepressants. I’ve been on them for a while. I was just, um, having a bit of a tricky time. I didn’t feel myself, you know? But I forgot to bring them with me.’ I clear my throat, reminding myself that there’s no stigma these days. I have nothing to be ashamed of. And I’m not going to start on to Shane about my menopause: my night sweats and dry, crispy hair and the fact that I seem to have run out of orgasms – like with library books, when you’ve taken out your full quota.
‘Hey.’ Shane comes towards me and touches my arm briefly, his eyes full of concern. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. But are you sure it’s okay? Just coming off them like that?’
I shrug. ‘It was a low dose, and it mightn’t even be that. I don’t know. It was a sort of panic attack, I think…’ I glance down at my battered trainers – my most unattractive trainers – and look back at him. ‘Also, I haven’t driven for years. Over twenty years, actually…’
‘Really?’ He feigns surprise, and I can’t help smiling.
‘Don’t tell me. You’re amazed.’
He rakes at his hair. ‘I wasn’t going to say.’
‘So obviously, it was really smart of me to refresh my skills by getting behind the wheel of an ancient ambulance.’
He smiles wryly as we mooch back to the van, and I climb into the passenger seat. Shane puts the key into the ignition but doesn’t start the engine. ‘Sure you’re okay now?’ he asks.
‘Honestly, yes.’ I nod.
He seems to hesitate, as if turning something over in his mind. ‘I’m not trying to pry or anything, Josie. But if there’s anything you’d like to talk about…’
‘Oh, I’m fine now, really.’
He looks at me levelly, those greenish eyes seeming to beam right into my head. ‘You’re sure?’
‘Yes,’ I say, even though it’s not true. There’s so much I want to talk about. And now we’re together it’s filling my head to the point where it feels like there’s no room for anything else. Is that why I had that crazy freak-out there? Because my brain is just too full of him and me?
As Shane starts the engine and we pull away from the verge, I want to tell him that I remember everything. Every single detail that ever happened between us.
That kiss, for one – the day the crow flew down the chimney and into my house. His beautiful mouth on mine in my parents’ living room. How we brushed it off like it never happened.
Then that hot summer’s day in the park: me, Shane and Ravi lying out in the sun. Shane had pulled off his T-shirt and got sunburnt. I’d told him to use sunscreen, but he wouldn’t listen. I rushed off to buy calamine lotion and when I came back he was waiting for me, and I tried not to stare at his beautifully shaped back, and how his arms were lightly muscled from all that drumming.
It was just the two of us then. Ravi had had to go for a music lesson or something (so supportive were her parents, they were happy to pay for a guitar tutor). Awful though it seems, I was almost glad that Shane was burnt as it gave me permission to touch him. He sat there quietly as I dabbed the lotion on.
We drank more beers, and he insisted he was okay now; that he could put his T-shirt back on without screaming. ‘Idiot!’ I teased him.
‘I know,’ he said, laughing.
We wandered around town, eating chips, and somehow we ended up at the end of the street, looking up at the derelict mill. ‘Let’s go in!’ I announced.
‘Okay!’ As if it were the greatest idea I’d ever had. We clambered through a broken door, and once inside, took a moment to adjust to the gloom. As we prowled around, examining broken machinery and wrecked filing cabinets, he started telling me the history of our town. That once there were thirty-eight textile mills in the area, producing millions of yards of fabric to be exported all over the world. On and on he went, chattering happily, sunburn now soothed. Shane loved history – he was a bit of a swot, Ravi reckoned – and I loved to hear his voice, so animated as he told me stuff.
