Come Back to Me (10 page)

They sat opposite one another, Julia watching the window behind Mark, where runnels of rain cascaded down the glass. She knew he was smiling at her, but a small tic in his cheek beat crazily, undermining his forced expression.

She had been at Alex's door only an hour or so ago. She had been so close to him … but it had been too much, that street full of beautiful redbrick two-storey Georgian-style houses with parapets and sash windows, like something out of a BBC drama. She had thought that if she moved quickly enough she would go through with knocking on the door, but her brain caught up with her as she stood there with her hand raised, and her mind had been flooded with all the parasitical doubts and fears that had hitchhiked everywhere with her for ten long years.

She had realised as she stood at the door that his office
address was also his home, which meant that Chloe lived there too.

She had run for two streets, then hidden behind a huge tree trunk, looking up at the sky, her blood rushing noisily through her ears, her heart smacking hard in her chest cavity, breathing quickly while feeling as if she were not getting any oxygen at all. She was terrified he would suddenly appear from around the tree, close up and angry, and that had sent her fleeing all the way to the tube station.

Now, Mark looked like he was waiting for her to speak.

‘I'm so sorry …' She paused, pretending to scan the laminated menu while she mentally rehearsed her speech. ‘I knew Alex a long time ago, but we parted on difficult terms. My fault as much as his, but I couldn't bear the thought of sitting next to him for the entire duration of a meal, and I didn't want to make a fuss in front of you all either. So I asked the waiter to tell you I had to leave urgently, and to pass on my apologies.'

The last part was a lie, but it worked. Mark rolled his eyes. ‘Well, I never got the message. Charming. Won't be going back there again in a hurry, that's for sure.'

His face relaxed. She hadn't run out on him – she'd left word. It made a difference.

He leaned forward, open curiosity now dominating his face. ‘So what happened with Alex?'

Julia had been expecting that one too. ‘Oh, you know, uni students always doing everything to excess, drinking and partying – you shouldn't expect to try and maintain a relationship with all that merry abandon going on around you – you're doomed from the start.'

In fact, neither of them had ever been ones for the more reckless excesses of university, although they had enjoyed their share of carefree fun. When she thought back to those times it was like remembering disjointed scenes of a movie she once watched. She barely recognised the characters portrayed there.

‘But,' she continued quickly, before Mark could interrupt with more questions, trying hard to keep her tone neutral and measured, ‘despite the shock of seeing him, it's nice to know he's happy and settled now.'

‘Well, yeah.' Mark gazed up into the distance for a moment. ‘Bit of a surprise, Chloe and Alex – bit of a whirlwind. When she announced they were getting married, everyone in the office thought she must be pregnant. Chloe's so – so strait-laced, normally, that to jump into marriage without a second thought was so unlike her – far too daring …'

‘So how long have they been together then?' She felt certain Mark would notice the high pitch of her voice, so hard was she trying to appear normal, casual.

‘Oh, they must have been married a couple of years now,' Mark replied. ‘And they were together for a few months before that. So two and a half years, maybe three, I guess.' He looked down at the table.

‘And are they … happy?' Her voice was barely a whisper.

Mark looked up, his vision clouding for a second before he replied. ‘Yes, I suppose so.'

She was glad he couldn't see the stab of pain that ripped through her chest. ‘Well, that's good then.'

They fell silent. Mark kept his head down, and she suddenly realised that he wasn't paying attention to her reactions
at all. He seemed lost in contemplation, his finger absently rubbing a mark on the tablecloth and spreading the stain further into the weave of the cotton.

‘Are you okay?' she ventured.

He looked up, surprised. ‘Of course,' he said, smiling. ‘It's lovely to see you again.' His gaze softened, then his eyes dropped to her breasts for just a fraction of a second.

She felt her mouth fall open in surprise and quickly snapped it shut again. She had a sudden desire to get up and throw his water over him and then to kick him as hard as she could. She wanted to get out of there. In the sprawling metropolis of London she doubted she'd see him again once they went their separate ways.

Although he knew where she lived.

She felt a shudder ripple through her. She would have to play this out carefully, and tactfully. So she smiled and they ordered coffee, and she asked Mark as much as she could about his work, his life, his interests. She was ready to deflect any questions about herself, but Mark seemed to enjoy answering her enquiries so much that he didn't make many of his own.

When they finally paid and got up to leave, she let Mark open the door for her and stepped outside.

It felt like she had been sleepwalking for years, and seeing Alex had finally woken her up. Even in the dusky light, everything seemed brighter: colours were so vivid it hurt her eyes to look at them; people talked so loudly she wanted to clamp her hands to her ears; everyone and everything seemed to move so fast that she had to stand still and look at her feet just to stop feeling dizzy … Yet she had been drifting
through such places for years, preferring big cities to small towns, as it was easier to get lost amongst the people. She felt more claustrophobic in open spaces than pressed against sour-smelling bodies on a bus, train or pavement, yet enjoyed neither. She would have stayed home as much as possible, but that required a certain stillness she could only manage in short bursts. She had to keep moving. If she stopped, if she gave herself too much time alone with her thoughts, she began to feel that something terrible would happen.

‘It was nice to see you again,' she said politely to Mark as he stood next to her, watching her expression.

‘You too,' he said, ‘I –'

‘– and I'm so sorry about the other night,' she continued quickly, knowing she wouldn't like what he planned to say next. ‘I'm very embarrassed. It was nice to meet you, though.' She held out her hand.

Mark looked at her outstretched arm with a blank expression, then extended his own and completed the handshake, his grip firm and assertive. She refused to meet his eyes and turned to go, then her heart sank as he immediately said, ‘Julia.'

She turned around slowly, reluctantly.

His hand was inside his jacket, then he pulled out a card. ‘Take this,' he said. ‘If I can do anything for you at all, just give me a call.' He paused. ‘And I would love to buy you a proper dinner, if you ever fancy it,' he added, his armour of controlled charm deserting him for a moment and leaving just a frustrated, eager, wishful man in its stead. It was the first time she had felt a real surge of warmth towards him, perhaps because she knew he was letting her go.

‘Thank you,' she said graciously, taking the card. Again, she turned to leave.

‘Alex called me,' he blurted to her back.

It was as though a huge serpent had just uncoiled and reared in front of her on the wet, grey London pavement. She was deadly still, listening. Waiting.

‘He wanted to contact you … But I haven't told him anything, as I wasn't sure … Do you want me to, if he asks again?'

‘Yes,' she called out, not trusting herself to turn around. Hoping he could catch her voice above the rumble of traffic and people. Feeling desperate, frustration and longing breaking over her in waves, she capitulated and turned. ‘Yes please.'

She glanced quickly at his surprised face, added ‘Thank you' and swung around again, walking briskly away.

She was so choked up she could hardly breathe. Her head filled with white noise. She hurried along the path, keeping close to the grimy cement facades of buildings, her eyes blurring with tears as they watched the grey pavements flash by. She bumped into a few people and ignored the tutting or cursing that followed.

Alex wanted to talk to her. But for good or ill, she had no way of knowing.

At the passageway to her flat, she paused, then moved on towards the station.

Mark saw Julia stop at the passageway to her courtyard, then watched as she hurried on. She was heading away from her home, and he was drawn to follow, to find out something about her everyday life. He didn't know whether he would have kept tailing her had she gone grocery shopping, but she didn't. Instead she headed for the station, and so did Mark.

He began to enjoy this impromptu sleuthing, an activity that was definitely not on his list of priorities for today. He got into the carriage one along from hers, but could still see her through the small window of the train as it rocked its way along in the usual stop-start fashion of the underground.

The first time Julia looked over her shoulder was when they had both just alighted from the train, and Mark swung round and bent down to fiddle with his shoelace, cheeks reddening. When he dared look back she had gone, but he
jogged to the exit and could see her walking away up the street. He was pretty sure of where she was going. But still he followed. Knowing the way, he could keep a bit more distance now, but he made sure he was watching from behind a wall as she went up to the door. His face was grim. He could well imagine what he was going to see next.

This time it felt different, because now he was looking for her too, and so she was standing at his door, her feet together, her head down, and her impetuous hand in a world of its own, lifting, lifting, and then knocking.

She waited. Behind her, the last of the autumn leaves on the dead-looking trees held fixed, tense positions, determined not to take their final plunge to earth until it was beyond their control.

As she heard footfalls coming closer, their rapid pace suddenly in time with her heartbeat, there was no space for thought or memory. Her head was filled to the brim with these few stretched seconds. She dared not even breathe. She had longed for this, yet was immeasurably frightened as well. Not of seeing him, as much as of what this confrontation might do to her. It could remould her, but it could just as easily be her final undoing.

The sound reached the door and it opened in front of her.

She raised her head.

He stood in the doorway.

She stared at him for just a moment, before he strode forward and wrapped his arms around her.

She almost collapsed within them, letting him take the sagging weight of her as he buried his head against her neck, her thick wavy hair falling around his face.

He was breathing hard, and crying too. Every now and again a noisy sob or intake of breath shocked her from her own stupor. She had never seen him like this, not even when things had gone so dreadfully wrong for them back then. He whispered ‘Amy, Amy' as though he were pleading for something.

Eventually, coming to, she realised that they were still by the open front door. There was no one within sight, but she could hear voices, not far away.

At that moment Alex gently pulled her inside and pushed the door closed.

He guided her along a hallway and into a lounge room. The first things she saw were photos of Alex on the shelves, with his arms around his wife. She averted her eyes.

They were silent for what seemed an eternity, not looking at one another. Julia didn't want to be the one to break it. She felt they were wrapped within a small gift of suspended time within which they had found one another, and once they unwrapped it, everything would move forward again, and she couldn't be certain they would ever recapture it.

Then Alex began to speak. ‘I can't believe it,' he said, over
and over. Reaching out to stroke her face. Lifting her chin. ‘You look just the same,' he added, although she could see he was lying, for she still startled herself when she stared into the mirror and a pair of small, dark, deadened eyes peered back. Alex immediately looked down, as though knowing she could read him.

‘So do you,' she said. And meant it. ‘Apart from the hair, of course.' His once long surfer's hair was now cropped short at the back and sides, and showed the first signs of receding. ‘You have a grown-up's haircut now.'

He smiled. ‘I suppose I do,' he murmured, running a hand over his head. Then he said, ‘Amy, what's this “Julia”?'

‘
I
am Julia,' she said harshly. ‘Amy hasn't been around for a long time.'

They were silent, and in that time it appeared the spell was broken. Awkwardness surged over them like a rushing wave. They had gone from long-lost soul mates to strangers in just a few seconds.

‘Would you like a drink?' Alex asked with stiff formality.

They exchanged small smiles at this politeness, which released a torrent of questions from Alex. ‘Where have you been? How long have you been in London? I keep thinking I've been walking around the streets just missing you or passing you and not even recognising you … It makes me feel terrible …' He trailed off.

‘I haven't been here long,' she assured him. ‘About a month.'

‘How on earth did you get together with Mark?' She sensed from his tone that he wasn't Mark's biggest fan.

‘I went into the solicitors' office late one evening to ask
about getting some documents witnessed … He said he'd sign the papers for free if I went to dinner with him …'

Alex's lips pursed. ‘That sounds like Mark.'

‘Not your favourite person?' she asked.

‘Nope.' His face clouded, then he changed the subject. ‘My god, Amy, where have you been? Does your mother know where you are? Why didn't you come back for the funeral?'

Their eyes met. She looked away first.

‘I've travelled,' she told him, gaze down. ‘I've been getting work here and there. Paying my way. Teaching scuba diving. Doing short articles for magazines. Coming back to England once or twice to sort out visas and other bits and pieces.' She looked up defiantly, although she knew he would see right through her. ‘I've seen so many places, so many wonderful things, like I always wanted to.'

‘It sounds great,' he said, playing along with her, nodding, smiling.

There was a pause. ‘Look, I'm so …' Alex began.

‘Don't,' she said sharply. ‘Don't, Al.'

Alex stared at his shoes. ‘I'll get you that drink,' he muttered.

A few minutes later he returned with a cup of milky tea. She debated whether to tell him she drank it black nowadays, but decided against it. In the minutes they had been apart they seemed to have become ever more shy around each other, so they sat subduedly and made showy displays of drinking their tea.

‘Anyway,' Julia said eventually. ‘What about you? So you're married?'

Alex looked up, pain etched on his face. ‘Yes. I am.'

‘And what's she like?' She concentrated on maintaining a forced jollity.

‘Chloe?' Alex spoke in a rush. ‘She's …' His face took on a faraway aspect for a moment and she didn't like what she saw in his eyes. ‘Look, I didn't, I mean I can't …' He threw his hands up in the air. ‘Why didn't you come back?' he said suddenly, sharply. ‘I know you needed space – but it's been
ten years
, Amy … What the hell –'

‘Any children?' she interrupted relentlessly, looking around as though small people might jump out from behind the stiff leather sofas, even though she knew the answer. A hard edge crept into her voice that she hadn't meant to plant there.

Alex looked at her. ‘No,' he said.

‘I see.'

Alex put his mug on the table and looked down between his knees, banging the flat of his hands softly against his forehead. She recognised the frustrated gesture of old and her body moved before her mind could slingshot questions at it. She reached out to pat his knee. ‘I know what the score is, Alex … I just can't believe you're really sitting here.'

Alex lifted his face to hers. His gaze was pained, full of guilt and uncertainty and torment. She held it steadily, letting all else wash away from her except the fact that he was there.

In response she watched his eyes change as they deepened with emotion. He reached up with both hands and stroked her face, looking into her eyes all the time. An incredible current passed between them at his touch – as if all the feelings
they had once shared and then buried were being reignited by his hands on her skin.

Without breaking eye contact, he moved his fingers to pull loose the thin scarf tied around her neck, uncoiling the soft material slowly and steadily. He laid it aside, and then, as though in a trance, he leaned forward towards the hollow between her collarbones, and touched the long, narrow scar there.

‘Amy,' he said, ‘there's something I need to tell you.'

Just then they heard the front door open, and both turned sharply towards the sound.