A few doors down from the alleyway, Julia yanked open a door in undignified haste. Mark rushed in behind her and collided with her when she came to a sudden stop by the cashier’s desk as she scanned the interior for a table.
‘Sorry,’ he said, as he automatically put a hand on her shoulder to steady himself. He felt her quickly pull away, but when she turned to look at him he was surprised to see she was laughing. Her face was alive with merriment for just a few precious seconds, before her expression faded into sombre composure once more.
‘It’s stupid,’ she said, with a small smile. ‘Getting caught in the rain always makes me feel so alive.’
Then she turned and made her way to an empty table at one side of the room; and Mark, entranced, followed.
23
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
