‘I know right!’
‘When do you go?’
‘Wednesday. Decided it was better to just go and figure things out when I’m there.’
‘How long?’
I pause, pull my shoulders up. ‘A month.’
He nods, returns one hand into his pocket and the other cups around his coffee protectively. ‘Maybe it will be nice?’ His affinity for positivity never fails to shock me. ‘You know, see some old friends, does he still have family out there? Sure they’ll be happy to see you.’
My singular arched eyebrow and scoff say everything I need them to.
‘Not good, huh?’ he pushes.
‘His mother could never quite get over the fact that her son’s main ambition in life was to run a café in the village he was born in. And of course, as all totally non-toxic mother of boys will attest to, that was entirely my fault.’
‘She’s one of those?’
‘Yes. That, and in her eyes, I am also the worst thing a woman can possibly be.’
I watch Archie’s brow furrow a little, an almost imperceptible panic in his eyes, wondering what could be quite so terrible. ‘What’s that?’
‘English.’ I try to emulate her accent, screwing up my face in disgust. Archie laughs, partly in relief. I enjoy it.
‘And that’s it, all the people you had?’
‘Kind of.’ I shrug. ‘It was all quite seasonal. There’s a brother too. Florian. I can count on one hand the number of times we ever saw him. They weren’t exactly close.’
He looks at me pityingly. I’m sure Archie isn’t the kind of man that has ever found himself short of company. ‘You can call me you know.’
‘Sorry?’
‘When you’re there. I mean if it gets a little lonely, you can call me.’
I nod and raise my mug in his direction.
We drink the dregs in silence until the cups are drained and there is no need to prolong my departure any more. I dump it on the sideboard, pat myself down for my phone, keys, cards. When everything’s in order I stand awkwardly in front of him, aware of his sad face scanning my body. I close the distance between us, my hand reaches for his cheek, and he stares at it as if it is some alien appendage.
‘Sorry about next Thursday,’ I offer.
‘There’ll be other restaurants, when you get back?’
I nod, stand on my tiptoes and kiss him quickly on the lips. I think it might be the most intimate thing we have ever done.
Chapter 3
Dad checks the departureboard for the fourth time since we arrived three hours early for my flight. We are sitting in a Wetherspoons on the wrong side of arrivals, Mum cupping her tea, Dad pretending to read the paper.
‘And you’ve got the documents for the car rental?’ he quizzes, his eyes appearing over the masthead.
‘Yes.’
‘And you’re sure you’ll be okay with a manual?’
‘I’ll manage.’
‘It’s been a while since you drove and everything’s the wrong way round over there, remember.’
