Chapter 19
19
I slid lower on my chair, cringing inwardly. Trying to make myself look smaller was hardly going to stop Flynn seeing me if he looked in my direction. That thought didn’t make me straighten back up, though. Please don’t pick a table near me! Fortunately they headed towards a table by the window at the other side of the café.
The woman was wearing a smart pale blue wool coat over jeans and, when she removed her coat, she had a tailored blouse underneath. Very smart. Probably about my age, she was very attractive with a shiny blonde bob and stylish glasses.
Flynn sat down with his back to me, so I was able to relax and sit upright once more. They ordered quickly and were soon deep in conversation. Eating my cake on autopilot, I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Whatever Flynn was saying to her made her laugh a lot. He used to make me laugh a lot too and I missed that so much.
My cake and espresso were long gone and I was ready to leave but doing so would mean walking past his table, so I ordered a hot chocolate and prayed Flynn and his companion would hurry up and leave soon. They didn’t.
Despite watching them for forty minutes, I still couldn’t decide what the relationship was. If they weren’t together, I suspected she wanted them to be. The way she kept smiling at him and tucking her hair behind her ear seemed a bit flirty. Was she Flynn’s type? I knew he preferred brunettes, but a couple of his girlfriends before me had been blonde so that didn’t prove anything. The thought of Flynn having a wife or girlfriend didn’t sit comfortably with me and I knew it was totally unfair of me to feel that way. I’d chosen to end it so I had no right to feel jealous of him being with someone else but, the more I speculated on their relationship, the more nauseous I felt.
Our marriage had ended for a reason. Instead of turning to each other for support after we lost Noah, we turned against each other. Or rather I turned against Flynn. But as I tried to conjure up those dark times in an effort to eradicate the little green monster inside me, all I could recall were happy memories – the night we met in The Hardy Herdwick, our first date after that, when he proposed, our wedding day, when I took a positive pregnancy test, the day Noah was born. We’d had our moments like any couple – mainly bickering over stupid things like me piling my crockery up beside the dishwasher instead of loading it inside, and the way he draped his discarded clothes over a chair in the bedroom instead of putting them in the laundry basket – but we’d never argued over anything major until Noah’s death. That tragedy blew a great big gaping chasm between us which got wider and wider until I couldn’t see there ever being a way of us making it back to the same side.
Flynn leaned back in his chair with his clasped hands at the back of his head – a gesture I recognised from when he was about to announce something, like a big decision or a grand idea or… I gasped and my heart started pounding. He’d done that before he proposed to me. Surely late morning in a café was not the place for a romantic proposal. He put his hands down and I held my breath, waiting for him to get down on one knee or to take her hand across the table or for her to look shocked, but the conversation continued with laughter and nodding on both sides before Flynn gestured for the bill. Not a proposal then. Phew! And I knew I had no right to feel relieved but I couldn’t help it.
My head was aching and I rested my elbows on the table, burying my head in my hands while I took several deep breaths. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Flynn settling the bill then the pair of them left. My shoulders sagged and I sat there for a few minutes waiting for the tension to fully leave my body. By the time I’d paid my bill and zipped up my coat, it felt safe to go outside. Even if they’d paused to finish off a conversation, Flynn and his companion should be long gone. But the moment I stepped outside, a man rose from one of the picnic benches.
‘Hello, Mel,’ Flynn said.
My stomach dropped to the ground and, even though I wanted to run, I couldn’t seem to make my feet move.
‘Aren’t you going to at least acknowledge me?’ he asked, his tone teasing, a gentle smile on his lips.
‘I didn’t think you’d seen me.’
‘I spotted you before we even went inside. I wanted to come over and say hello but I was with a client so it didn’t feel appropriate. Better to wait out here for you.’
I hated the relief flowing through me that his companion was a client and not his wife or girlfriend but, next moment, I glanced down at his hand and he was wearing a wedding band so clearly he was married. That sinking sensation was back.
‘Can we talk, Mel?’
‘Erm, now’s not a good time.’ After what had happened with my parents, it couldn’t be worse.
‘That’s fair enough. You weren’t expecting to see me today. When would be a good time for you?’
‘I’m not sure. There’s some stuff I’m dealing with at the moment.’
‘Anything I can help with?’ He sighed and shook his head. ‘Sorry. Old habits die hard.’
‘What do you want to talk about?’
‘Whatever we need to talk about to make this work for both of us.’
‘This?’ I asked, my heart pounding. What did that mean? Us? No, there was no way he meant that.
‘You returning to Willowdale. Me still being local.’
Of course. Why would I have thought he could possibly mean us?
‘We’ve already bumped into each other twice in eight days,’ he continued, ‘so I suspect it’ll keep happening. I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable or like you have to avoid places in case I’m there.’
I stared at him, wondering how he could be so considerate after how I’d treated him. But he’d always been the calm, reasonable one – the yin to my yang. It was one of the reasons our relationship had been so good.
‘What do you think?’ he prompted when I didn’t respond.
‘Erm, yeah. Maybe.’
‘I hear you’re working on the Willowdale Hall project.’
‘How did you?—’
‘I saw Dougie Standish and he mentioned it. Congratulations.’
I felt relief that he hadn’t heard it from Mark. I didn’t want to think they’d been discussing me. ‘Thank you. I still have to keep pinching myself that it’s really happening.’
‘I can well imagine. How many times did we fantasise about working on the hall together one day? It’s amazing that one of us has had that dream come true. I’m so chuffed for you, Mel.’
He genuinely looked and sounded delighted when he could so easily have been bitter about it. Not that bitter was Flynn’s style. He could have been angry with me for being so rude to him in the pub last week, but that wasn’t his way either. Mum often referred to Flynn as a gentle giant and it suited him well. He always had been – and clearly still was – a kind and thoughtful man who tried to put others at ease.
‘I need to get back to work,’ I said.
‘At the hall?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can I give you a lift?’
‘I could do with the fresh air. Headache. It’ll clear it.’
‘You’re sure? If I drive you, you’ll be able to get some paracetamol sooner.’
Thoughtful yet again.
‘I’m sure. So, I’ll, erm…’
He pressed a piece of paper into my hand and the touch of his fingers against my palm made my insides fizz.
‘My contact details if you do want to talk.’ He clasped his hands behind his head and I waited, heart pounding, for his big announcement.
‘I’ve missed you,’ he said, his eyes full of sadness, his voice tender. ‘I can’t tell you how good it is to see you again.’
How was I supposed to respond to that?
He lowered his arms and smiled. ‘I didn’t mean to blurt that out. Sorry. Forget I said it. I think we should meet and clear the air, but it’s your call. Hopefully see you sometime soon.’
As he walked away, he thrust his hands into his pockets and lowered his head. He’d missed me? I hadn’t seen that coming and he was absolutely right that he shouldn’t have said it. He was a married man! But I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t acknowledge how good it felt to hear it. I just didn’t understand how he could feel that way about me after how badly it ended.
None of us live forever and, sooner or later, we’ll all shuffle off this mortal coil. When that day comes, all we can do is hope that we’ve lived a long, fulfilled and happy life. Sadly, some lives aren’t nearly long enough. My mum’s dad died in his forties before I was born. A devoted Christian all her life, my grandma used to say that Granddad was such a lovely, kind man that God needed him in heaven as an angel. I wasn’t convinced of the logic behind it but if believing that brought her some comfort, who was I to judge? The only strong belief I had was that bereavements in this day and age should happen according to generation – fully supportive of the saying that no parent should have to bury their child. To outlive your child wasn’t right. It went against the natural order of things, threw the world off its axis. And my world had never realigned when it happened to me. I wasn’t sure it ever would.