Even though she wanted to be sympathetic, Miranda was unable to stop herself from saying, ‘At least you can move away, move on. With death, it follows you wherever you go. Believe me, I’ve tried.’
She expected him to peel away, find an excuse and take his leave – perhaps she even wanted him to – but he softened, moving even closer to her as they walked out into the night.
‘I can’t begin to imagine how it must feel.’
Miranda shook her head, trying to erase the thought. ‘Nothing makes you feel so powerless as death. It’s as if nothing actually matters at all, only staying alive, staying one step ahead of it as it follows you around.’
Gently, he asked, ‘Was it long ago?’
She looked into the park, dim in the streetlamps. ‘It was during the war. He was on a naval ship in Borneo.’
It had been a while since she’d said it out loud. It always felt like she was picking off an old scab, and she winced as the pinprick of pain cameto the surface. She drew to a halt as she tried to maintain her composure.
‘This is precisely why I don’t like talking about it.’ She tried to pull herself together.
He stepped towards her, close enough to feel his warmth without actually touching, and she was suddenly desperate for him to put his arms around her, bring her back to life, to kiss her, hold her, love her.
For a moment, they looked into each other’s eyes, and she thought she could sense him measuring it up in his mind, whether she was the right woman for him.
Yet how could she be the right woman for anyone?
The only man she’d ever loved was dead.
Hastily, she took a step back. ‘It’s getting late. I have to go.’
‘Miranda, please stay. I know it must have been hard, becoming a widow so young.’
‘That’s what everyone says, as if I’m to be pitied, or I’m some kind of anomaly.’ She stood apart. ‘Grief is the same, though, however old you are, whatever the circumstances.’
‘It must have been terrible. No wonder you’re so...’ He stopped himself.
‘So what?’ She spun around to look at him. ‘So demanding, so unconventional? So unruly?’
‘So focused on your work,’ he said gently.
She straightened her coat. ‘I need to be independent, and I’m completely fine on my own.’
But Sinclair reached his hand forward. ‘No, you’re not. You’re a beautiful, intriguing woman, Miranda, but you’ve closed yourself off. You should be launching yourself into life, enjoying it, but you’re standing on the edge laughing at everyone else, thinking you’re above it all, when actually you’re just missing out.’
‘You’re talking nonsense.’ She chuckled, but it sounded clunky and chaotic.
‘Maybe a little, but youareclever and beautiful, and unbelievably capable, too. I’m not saying hard work is bad – it’s good, great in fact.But a woman like you needs to live life, get out and enjoy yourself, maybe find someone new.’
She smirked. ‘And what about you? It doesn’t seem like you’ve kissed a lot of girls since you were left.’
He shrugged, but there was a defensive edge to his voice. ‘I have to travel a lot. It’s not easy to meet someone. In any case, it hasn’t been so long for me. For you it’s been eight years.’
With a brisk shake of her head, she muttered, ‘Why does everyone want to put a time on it?’
He frowned, looking her in the eyes with sympathy. ‘I can’t imagine how awful his death must have been for you.’
‘He didn’t deserve to die.’ She heard her voice catch. ‘It was nonsensical that a man so full of life was destined to be killed when he had barely become an adult.’
Tentatively, he took her hand into his, a gesture of friendship, perhaps? Only then it felt childish, and then it suddenly felt wrong and treacherous, and she pulled her hand away.
For a moment, they both looked at each other, a million questions hanging in the air. He, too, had been hurt, after all, and for a moment she realized how hard it must have been for him. Miranda was always dismissive of other people’s grievances – surely hers trumped everyone else’s? – yet betrayal was something she’d never experienced.
Quietly and carefully, he said, ‘I wondered if there might be something between us, and I think you might feel that, too.’
