been there, things with Julia obviously hadnât progressed very far. Just because heâd prattled on about her in the few days before their dinner date didnât mean anything.
Julia had certainly raced off like a frightened rabbit last night. Maybe sheâd taken off completely. If she would just vanish, then maybe they could pretend that last night had never happened.
Perhaps this should have been a comfort to her, but it wasnât.
7
When Julia opened her eyes it was to cold white light streaming in through the uncurtained window. Sheâd slept fitfully through the night and for most of the morning, but even in her semi-conscious slumber she couldnât forget what had happened last night. She could barely remember the journey home. When she had run out of the restaurant and looked at the faces of those around her, she was surprised no one was staring. It was unbelievable that she was convincing amongst them, these strangers â just one of them â so ordinary that they hardly noticed her.
She kept trying to replay the time she had seen him from start to finish, breaking the few seconds down into milliseconds so she could savour each micro-moment. His head turning to look at her; his expression opening in recognition, then closing a moment later before he lost control and let something out of himself that wasnât meant to be revealed.His hand automatically reaching towards hers. The warmth of his touch against her fingers, his grip lingering, testing out this new reality, involuntarily preserving the link between them for a short, extended fraction of time. Even before he had released the grip she had wanted him to hold on â it was real to her in a way she had forgotten a touch could be. But he had broken the small tie their fingers had forged, and watching him turn away had been more than she could bear. She was surprised that she managed to excuse herself; that she hadnât just evaporated next to the others. Her heart had pounded so hard sheâd been sure it was about to break through her chest cavity. It had felt like she was shrinking suddenly, tunnelling down a hole that only she could see, away from everyone and everything.
It was so unbearably ironic. She hadnât been back to England for more than a few months in the past ten years, and she and Alex were both from the Midlands, so why he was living here in London she didnât know.
Except there was one big reason, wasnât there.
His wife. Alex was married.
She had always imagined that seeing Alex again would be more painful than anything else she could experience. But she had been wrong, because stupidly, stupidly, she had never added Alexâs wife into that equation. It had never occurred to her that Alex could have, would have married. Because Alex already had a soul mate, and he had lost her.
The thought of him having such incredible intimacy with another woman made it difficult to breathe.
Chloe. She tried to think back to what Mark had briefly told her about Chloe and Alex before they arrived for dinner.Not much. He had mentioned Chloeâs husband by name, she recalled, but she had never dreamed that it could be her Alex.
Except it wasnât âher Alexâ any more.
She grabbed her coat and headed for the door, making her way down the tiny narrow stairway that led from the cramped flat. The carpet was worn and rucked in places, there was no banister and she had already nearly tripped once or twice, so now she rested her hand on the wall as she went. At the bottom she pushed open the half-rotten door of peeling white paint, which opened into a small courtyard, and hurried through, not glancing at the doors to the left and right, which, sheâd concluded, from the amount of loud music, shopping trolleys and the smell of pot around the place, must be largely inhabited by students. The little alleyway was a dark oasis of calm, despite its sinister shadows, before she suddenly merged
Julia had certainly raced off like a frightened rabbit last night. Maybe sheâd taken off completely. If she would just vanish, then maybe they could pretend that last night had never happened.
Perhaps this should have been a comfort to her, but it wasnât.
7
When Julia opened her eyes it was to cold white light streaming in through the uncurtained window. Sheâd slept fitfully through the night and for most of the morning, but even in her semi-conscious slumber she couldnât forget what had happened last night. She could barely remember the journey home. When she had run out of the restaurant and looked at the faces of those around her, she was surprised no one was staring. It was unbelievable that she was convincing amongst them, these strangers â just one of them â so ordinary that they hardly noticed her.
She kept trying to replay the time she had seen him from start to finish, breaking the few seconds down into milliseconds so she could savour each micro-moment. His head turning to look at her; his expression opening in recognition, then closing a moment later before he lost control and let something out of himself that wasnât meant to be revealed.His hand automatically reaching towards hers. The warmth of his touch against her fingers, his grip lingering, testing out this new reality, involuntarily preserving the link between them for a short, extended fraction of time. Even before he had released the grip she had wanted him to hold on â it was real to her in a way she had forgotten a touch could be. But he had broken the small tie their fingers had forged, and watching him turn away had been more than she could bear. She was surprised that she managed to excuse herself; that she hadnât just evaporated next to the others. Her heart had pounded so hard sheâd been sure it was about to break through her chest cavity. It had felt like she was shrinking suddenly, tunnelling down a hole that only she could see, away from everyone and everything.
It was so unbearably ironic. She hadnât been back to England for more than a few months in the past ten years, and she and Alex were both from the Midlands, so why he was living here in London she didnât know.
Except there was one big reason, wasnât there.
His wife. Alex was married.
She had always imagined that seeing Alex again would be more painful than anything else she could experience. But she had been wrong, because stupidly, stupidly, she had never added Alexâs wife into that equation. It had never occurred to her that Alex could have, would have married. Because Alex already had a soul mate, and he had lost her.
The thought of him having such incredible intimacy with another woman made it difficult to breathe.
Chloe. She tried to think back to what Mark had briefly told her about Chloe and Alex before they arrived for dinner.Not much. He had mentioned Chloeâs husband by name, she recalled, but she had never dreamed that it could be her Alex.
Except it wasnât âher Alexâ any more.
She grabbed her coat and headed for the door, making her way down the tiny narrow stairway that led from the cramped flat. The carpet was worn and rucked in places, there was no banister and she had already nearly tripped once or twice, so now she rested her hand on the wall as she went. At the bottom she pushed open the half-rotten door of peeling white paint, which opened into a small courtyard, and hurried through, not glancing at the doors to the left and right, which, sheâd concluded, from the amount of loud music, shopping trolleys and the smell of pot around the place, must be largely inhabited by students. The little alleyway was a dark oasis of calm, despite its sinister shadows, before she suddenly merged
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