‘Me too,’ I said quietly, reaching for the wine glass he’d just refilled. Our eyes met over the crystal flutes as though it was a toast, and neither of us heard the silent click of our future life falling into place like a puzzle piece.
I didn’t see her walk up to us. I had no idea we were no longer alone until her shadow fell over the spread of picnic fare on the checked cloth. I looked up, using my hand as a visor as the figure paused for a moment and then carefully lowered herself on to the blanket beside us.
My eyes flew to Adam, but the expression in his was just as confused as mine.
‘Oh, you have cherry tomatoes. I love those,’ said the elderly woman, reaching into the container and extracting a plump red fruit. She smiled happily at me before popping the tomato into her mouth. There was a childlike expression of pure delight as she bit into it. I glanced back at Adam, my eyes silently telegraphing a question.Do you know this person?
A vague smile hovered on his lips as he almost imperceptibly shook his head.
‘Do you know what, I might just have another one. Is that very naughty of me?’ the old lady asked, with an almost girlish giggle.
‘By all means,’ Adam said graciously, as though the stranger was an honoured guest.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, waiting until the woman had finished her mouthful and before her hand connected with the plate of sausage rolls she was reaching for. ‘It’s really terrible of me, but I’m afraid I’ve forgotten your name.’
The elderly intruder paused with the sausage roll poised halfway to her lips. ‘Oh, it’s ... it’s ...’ Her eyes clouded over, and after a moment they unexpectedly filled with tears. ‘Oh dear. I can’t seem to remember it either ... Why don’t I know my name ...?’
My heart broke at the despair in her voice, but Adam handled it perfectly. He leant across the blanket and laid a gentle hand on the old lady’s shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, it happens to me all the time.’ He lied so smoothly I almost believed him myself.
While our uninvited guest munched contentedly on a pastry, Adam moved closer to whisper in my ear. Despite the weird situation, one part of my brain took a moment to enjoy the sensation of his breath against my skin.
‘I’m going to take a walk around and see if she’s with anyone. Are you okay staying here with her until I get back? I won’t be long.’
I nodded, watching as the elderly woman reached for the Kalamata olives. I’d be fine, so long as our picnic food held out.
Adam gave me a gentle smile which he extended to the older woman. ‘You should try one of the mini pork pies, they’re really delicious.’
He couldn’t have been gone for more than fifteen minutes, but it felt like so much longer. The old lady had taken a break from working her way through our lunch after spotting Fletcher.
‘Oh, what a sweet little doggy. Is he yours?’
It seemed easier to simply say yes.
‘I think I used to have a dog. Did I bring her with me today?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I said, feeling at a total loss. I had no experience of dealing with people with dementia, which I was fairly sure this sweet old lady was suffering from. Instinctively I knew it wasn’t helpful to bombard her with questions, so it seemed best to allow her to sit happily on the picnic blanket beside me until Adam returned. Not that she was particularly bothered about chatting to me anyway, because Fletcher was of far more interest.
It was a good five minutes before I noticed that she’d been secretly feeding him tiny mouthfuls from the pot of pâté we hadn’t even tried yet. Fletcher was blissfully eating from her sticky fingers with a look that suggested all of his Christmases had come at once.
‘Rose, my darling, there you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’
The man’s voice was breathless, either from the climb up the hill or with anxiety at having misplaced his companion.
‘Where did you go, my darling?’ the elderly man said, getting to his knees with a gunshot crack of protesting bones. ‘I was so worried when I couldn’t find you.’ He pressed a kiss on the woman’s wispy grey hair. ‘I’d only popped to the gents for a moment,’ he explained to me in an exaggerated whisper.
‘Oh, I was perfectly fine. These lovely people asked me if I’d like to join them for their picnic, so I did,’ said the woman, who we now knew was called Rose. ‘And then I met their sweet little doggy and we’ve been sharing this lovely feast together.’
Adam’s eyes went to the now almost-empty pot of pâté, and I caught an expression that was more concerned than amused.
I bit my lip guiltily. Was pâté bad for dogs?
‘Come on, my love. Let’s leave these kind people to enjoy their picnic in peace,’ said the older man, getting back to his feet with an alarming wobble that caused Adam to take a step closer in case he fell.
‘But I haven’t finished my lunch yet,’ Rose protested, her lower lip trembling like a five-year-old’s.
I had no idea what to say, but Adam didn’t even miss a beat.
‘Please, won’t you both stay and join us? I’ve brought far too much for just Lily and me.’
