‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispers, his eyes beginning to shine.
‘It’s not your fault.’
‘If it makes you feel better, I was a total wreck myself.’
‘I felt like I’d been smashed into a million little pieces.’
He drags his hand over his face, suddenly seeming devastated.
‘It was only three days,’ I say in a small voice as he turns to stare starkly out the window. ‘Are we looking back at that time through rose-tinted glasses? Was any of it real?’
He meets my eyes, and then says, with absolute conviction: ‘It was real.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I don’t like lying to my new housemate, so guilt takes the edge off my anticipation at seeing Ash on Saturday morning. Siân invited me to go shopping with her today and I used the excuse Ash suggested about catching up with an old friend.
But that opened up other questions.
‘Ooh, who are you seeing?’
‘An old friend from work.’
‘Boy or girl?’
‘Girl. Chloe.’ I did work with a Chloe, but we weren’t close.
‘Will she come here?’
‘No, we’re heading out for the day.’
‘Where are you meeting? Do you need a lift?’
‘No, thanks. She’s got a car.’
‘So sheiscoming here?’
‘We’re meeting at the pub in the village for lunch.’
‘Bit early for lunch, isn’t it?’
Aaargh!
I ended up telling her that I planned to go for a walk first, which was actually true. I can’t be seen in my biker gear, so I had to head up to Ash’s place to get changed.
The gear he bought for me earlier in the week fittedperfectly, which was just as well, because even though the jacket and trousers were exchangeable, the helmet wasn’t.
‘I still can’t believe you risked buying this,’ I say when I’m standing by his bike, fully kitted up and in the process of trying to tighten the chinstrap of my new olive-green helmet.
My jacket is also dark green and the trousers are black, and they both have body armour sewn in, but they look like ordinary clothes from the outside. I like the utilitarian styling of them. Ash point-blank refused to let me pay for any of it.
‘Well, I kind of already knew the circumference of your head,’ Ash admits, coming over to help me.
‘How?’ I ask, jerking as his fingertips brush my neck.
‘That cap I lent you, the one we bought at the market in Lisbon.’
I know the cap he’s talking about – I borrowed it from him at the Castelo de São Jorge when he was more concerned about my sunburn than his.
