‘Sorry, Enya, I was trying to be funny. I’ll go see the quack if and when I need to.’
‘No, I’m sorry. It’s absolutely none of my business!’ She blinked.
‘So, cricket.’ He put them back on track, maybe, like her, unwilling to waste their time with any friction.
‘Yes, his name stood out to me and when I walked into the cricket pavilion he was standing there, facing me, smiling, and he was tall, taller than me! And I said,are you here for the cricket?He was in full whites, cap in hand, and he shook his head and said,cricket? No, what gave you that idea? I thought I was at the bus stop, does the three-four-nine not stop here? I loved his humour, his sarcasm. And that was that, really. He cleverly befriended my dad and we just paired up! Happily paired up.’
‘I think I’d have liked him,’ Dominic added, without any sense of irony.
‘Everyone did.’ This the truth. ‘So, how about you and Trish, how did you guys get together?’
She wanted to match his comfort in talking about their partners, almost as if in proof that they were doing nothing wrong and there was therefore no need to feel any guilt.
‘Nothing so endearing as your story. Trish’s parents were divorcing, and she got sent to stay with her aunt who ran the pub in the village where I grew up, just outside of Bath. The pub my friends and I used to frequent, where we’d glug strong cider and put money into the jukebox to listen to The Cure. She worked behind the bar, and she was beautiful and quite wild, which I found insanely attractive,’ the way he paused suggested it might not now be the case, ‘and when she and my mate Stu split up I offered her a shoulder to cry on and the rest is history.’
‘Poor Stu!’
‘Ha! Stu was our best man. And fret not, he is now married to Helen and has been for donkey’s years. He’s a photographer and is fat and content.’
‘You make the two sound intertwined, maybe that’s where I’m going wrong, I’m too skinny.’
‘Are you not content?’
It was what he did, pulled her words and spun them into a wider commentary that she welcomed, showing his interest, a lovely distraction, a chance to help understand herself.
‘I’m not sure. I’m aware that it’s usually a yes or no answer, but it’s never that straightforward, is it. Never that simple. I have these... these...’ she hesitated, unsure why she wanted to open up to him, this stranger, with something that had dogged her for a while now, ‘these kind of attacks.’
He sat forward, his expression one of concern. ‘What kind of attacks?’
‘It was the strangest thing. A few months ago now, I was walking in the park, and I thought I might be having a heart attack. In fact, I was certain I was having a heart attack.’
She paused to think about the moment, still carrying the echo of a trembling hand and disturbed gut.
‘I’ve read about the symptoms, seen it countless times on TV and in movies, who hasn’t? A fast heart rate, sweating, dizziness, mild confusion, a hot flush rushing over my head and body that made me want to drop to the floor. I figured that had to be it: my heart.My heart!’
‘That must have been so scary.’
‘It was,’ she exhaled. ‘I began to get flustered, wasn’t sure what to do, fish my phone out of the pocket of my jeans and call an ambulance? I thought that might expend too much energy. Was I better off lying down and calling to the woman who had onlyjust walked past, we’d had the briefest chat. I thought I might call her back and gesture that I was having a heart attack. I figured she’d know what to do. Not that she’s a friend, but I know of her, she’s local. Well, I was darned if I could remember her name. I knew it began with M and I went through them all!’ she tittered, ‘Marion? Margery? Mary... Nothing. It was bizarre, there I was about to possibly spend my last minutes on God’s green earth and instead of my life flashing before my eyes or whispering something meaningful and life-affirming, I was entirely preoccupied with trying to remember the name of Michelle Johnson-Hughes and worrying, if you can believe it, about what Aiden would eat in the event of my demise.’
‘You remembered her name eventually.’ He smiled.
‘Yes, thank goodness. It was as I thought about it that I realised my pulse had slowed and I wasn’t feeling so faint. Then I wondered about what I might actually say to her,I’m dying... Help me... Please tell my son there’s lasagne in the fridge that wants using up...’
She liked the way he laughed, liked feeling funny. It was the very opposite of being boring, she always thought, if you could make someone laugh like that.
‘I of course survived and am now at liberty to enjoy the many other panic attacks that seem to strike at the most inopportune of moments. I sat on one of the little wooden benches that line the path and stared at the lake, taking a moment to breathe.’ She took a deep, slow breath.
‘And it went away?’
‘It calmed, yes.’
‘That was a relief.’ He sipped his wine.
‘I was equally as relieved I hadn’t called Michelle over and informed her of my imminent departure. Not only would I have had to backtrack, no doubt sounding like a mad thing, but she’s hardly discreet. News of my funny turn would be all over thepostcode by now. It scared me, that’s the truth.’ She bit her bottom lip. ‘That was the first one, the first panic attack,’ she widened her eyes and shifted in her chair, ‘and it’s absurd because I’m not that kind of person. Yet I’m pretty sure that’s what they are.’
It felt glorious and exposing all at once to have told someone, anyone. She had kept it from Jenny and Angela, not wanting them to worry about her any more than they already did, and she certainly didn’t want to burden Aiden with them. There was also the unspoken belief that for her it meant anxiety, fear, a lack of control, the very opposite of the woman and character she did her best to portray. The fact she had chosen to tell Dominic wasn’t lost on her. This sharing of a secret bound them closer.
‘I wonder what caused it?’ he asked softly.
