Chapter 3
EMMA
I hadn’t exactly been lying when I told Nick I had to get back tonight. Work was manic and I had quite a bit to do before tomorrow.
But I also needed to process what had just happened.
What did it mean, for example, that in the two years since Greg had died I hadn’t felt able to properly open up to Rachel, or to Mum or even my counsellor, and yet when I was with Nick, the words seemed to come easily, the desire to talk about Greg and the accident strong.
Perhaps it was simply that he understood because he was grieving too.
Except I couldn’t deny that there was something more between us than simply having lost a loved one.
And I definitely couldn’t get away from the fact that every time Nick and I touched it felt as though there was an explosion somewhere inside me.
I’d never felt anything like it, not even with Greg, who I’d loved so much.
Did Nick feel it too?
I couldn’t be sure, but I felt certain he did.
I didn’t turn round to see whether Nick was following me but instead scurried towards the park gates.
I was planning to head home but as I emerged onto the high street I pulled my phone out of my bag and saw a couple of WhatsApp messages from Rachel, asking what I was up to.
Despite previously wanting to keep this to myself, I was suddenly desperate to talk to her about it.
I tapped out a reply.
Emma
Are you free for a drink?
Three dots immediately appeared.
Rachel
Hell yes! The Crown?
I replied:
Emma
See you there.
As I entered the wine bar, quiet on a Monday night, I hoped Nick wouldn’t see me here. I wasn’t sure how far away he lived and was suddenly aware he might pass by here on his way home. I didn’t want him to think I was lying to him.
I bought two glasses of Pinot Grigio and settled at a table away from the speaker. It only took Rachel fifteen minutes to get there. She gave me a hug then sat, downing half her glass of wine in one go.
‘I needed that,’ she said, wiping her hand across her mouth. ‘The little buggers were doing my head in tonight, thank God you messaged.’
It was still astounding to me that my best friend, who I’d known since we were twelve years old, was a mother.
I still remembered her sobbing her heart out when she found her first boyfriend Carl snogging Mandy Johnston at the school disco; I could remember the smell of vomit when Gary McDonald dumped her and she drank her body weight in vodka to drown her sorrows.
And I could still picture the pure joy on her face when she’d met Iain, Greg’s best friend, three months after Greg and I had got together.
They were smitten, and it felt like the four of us were the luckiest people alive to have found each other. All for one and one for all.
Now, I still saw the pair of them regularly but when it was the three of us it felt odd, like a car trying to drive with three wheels.
And although I knew Rachel tried not to moan about the kids too much around me, aware that Greg and I had tried for a couple of years to have a baby, I loved hearing her talk about these little creatures who were the perfect mix of two of my favourite people in the world.
‘What have they been up to now?’ I said, taking a sip of my wine.
‘Oh, just the usual. Aiden thought it would be funny to do a poo in the bath, and Harry screamed the house down about it. Can’t say I blame him, sitting in a shit soup with his little brother.
’ She grinned. ‘Thank God for you and your well-timed messages pleading with me to meet you urgently. I left Iain to mediate.’
‘I mean, it wasn’t urgent…’ I started.
‘It was very urgent. At least Iain thinks it was and that’s all that matters.’
I laughed.
‘Anyway, enough of all that nonsense. Tell me what you’ve been up to. You look lovely, have you been somewhere nice?’
I felt a smile spread across my face. ‘Maybe.’
Rachel’s eyebrows shot up beneath her fringe. ‘Oh my,’ she whispered.
‘What?’
‘You look…’ She screwed her face up while she searched for the word she was looking for. ‘Happy.’
‘Do I?’
She leaned closer and squinted at me. ‘I haven’t seen this look on your face for such a long time. Are you… Have you been on a date?’
I felt my face burn and Rachel gasped. ‘Right, tell me everything, Vickers.’ She sat back and crossed her arms.
‘I…’ I started, unsure where to begin. ‘He’s called Nick.’ She waited. ‘We met in the bandstand in the rose garden, after work.’
‘Today?’ She sounded surprised.
I shook my head. ‘Last week.’
Her eyes widened. ‘And why are you only just telling me this now?’
I picked at a hangnail on my thumb, unable to meet her eye. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t… I wasn’t sure whether it was anything.’
‘And now you are?’
I shrugged. ‘Not really.’
Rachel leaned forward and waited for me to meet her eye. When I did I saw nothing but kindness in them. ‘You know I adored Greg, Ems, but I can’t tell you how good it is to see you even thinking about someone else. Greg would want this for you. I know he would.’
‘I know,’ I said, even though I wasn’t so sure.
‘So are you seeing him again, this Nick?’
‘We’re meeting on Wednesday.’
‘Where?’
‘The same place.’
She frowned. ‘The bandstand? Why on earth are you meeting there again?’
I shrugged. It was hard to explain. Quite apart from the fact that it was clearly an important place for Nick, it felt as though it was the place we were meant to be. For now, at least. And if I was honest, I was worried the spell might be broken if we tried to meet somewhere else.
‘It just felt like the right thing to do,’ I said. ‘Anyway, the rose garden is pretty.’
‘Fine. But promise me you’ll go somewhere else next time? Somewhere a bit less… bird-shitty.’
‘Assuming there is a next time, you have my word,’ I said.
Rachel held her glass up and I clinked mine against it. ‘Here’s to the possibility of new beginnings,’ she said.
‘Only a possibility,’ I said.
She rolled her eyes. ‘If that’s the best I’m going to get then I’ll take it.’
As I walked home a couple of hours later, I thought about what Rachel and I had talked about. She’d wanted to find out more about Nick – check out his Instagram and Facebook accounts, see what else we could find out about him.
‘But I only know his name. I don’t even know where he lives or what his job is,’ I said.
‘That’ll do for now,’ she said.
But in the end it wasn’t enough, and we couldn’t find any trace of a Nick Flynn around thirty years old who looked or sounded anything like the man I’d just met.
‘Are you sure he told you his real name?’ she said.
‘I don’t see why he wouldn’t. But I’m not surprised he’s not on social media. I mean, he didn’t even know what Tinder was.’
‘How can he not? Does he live in the Dark Ages?’
I grinned. ‘Not everyone lives their entire lives online you know.’
‘Most people who say they don’t are lying though.’
Now, as I let myself into the house, the mystery of Nick was on my mind. Who was this man who had taken up residence in my head and seemed unwilling to leave? What was it about him that had successfully pierced the barrier I’d constructed around myself over the last two years?
I thought about the way my body had reacted when our skin touched, and I shivered. I hadn’t mentioned it to Rachel, but as I hung my coat on the peg by the front door, I felt the same feeling again, almost as though he was here, right beside me.
I went straight upstairs and threw myself onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling.
Greg hadn’t lived in this house with me and, most nights over the three months since I’d moved in, I wondered whether I’d made a mistake, leaving the home Greg and I had built together.
In the old house, I could conjure him whenever I wanted – the pair of us curled on the sofa watching TV together; the places where we’d had sex when we’d first moved in, not bothering us at all that we had to rough it on the bare floorboards, hardly a stick of furniture in the place; the small box room he’d commandeered as his weights room that always had a slight undertone of sweat; the ridiculous oversized coffee machine that sat on the worktop that we’d always bickered over whose turn it was to clean.
At the time I’d thought it would be easier to live somewhere where the memories didn’t come flooding in at unexpected moments, flooring me with a sucker-punch.
But now I wasn’t so sure. My bedroom didn’t hold any memories of Greg.
It held nothing but me, and my things, and sometimes, I worried I was forgetting about him.
Tonight, though, it did have an advantage – because when thoughts of Nick buzzed around my head, the way they were doing right now, at least I didn’t feel like I was cheating on Greg.
I turned my head towards the empty space beside me and felt a lurch of sadness.
Was I doing the right thing, meeting Nick again? Should I shut this down before it went any further?
Maybe. The trouble was, I didn’t really want to.
I was equal part nervous and equal part excited about seeing Nick again. There was less doubt this time about whether he’d turn up, but in a way that made it even more nerve-wracking. Because that meant this was something different for both of us.
A step away from our pasts, and towards the possibility of a new future.
It had been a rough couple of days at work and I’d hardly had a moment to breathe. But now, as I walked through the rose garden towards the bandstand, my legs felt shaky and my breath was short in my chest.
What would we talk about today?
Would we arrange a proper date?
Did I want to?
I stepped up into the bandstand. I was a few minutes early and he wasn’t here yet so I took the opportunity to look out into the park and take a few deep, calming breaths. I closed my eyes and let my shoulders drop, my breathing deepen, and my heart rate slow.
‘Hello.’