‘Well, I’m a glorified hotel waitress, and this place is kind of my last stand. We all have our bloody crosses to bear.’ She didn’t wait for an answer, but she knew enough about Martha by now to realise that she wouldn’t be up for taking it lying down. She could still hear her chuntering as she reached Judith’s gate, but she would rather die than give her the satisfaction of looking back. She thought of the look in Duncan’s eyes all that time ago, the last day she’d set her own two eyes on the man she’d thought she would grow old with. She remembered every detail. Even the ones she didn’t wish to.
He’d looked so different standing there in front of her that day, his hair styled in a way she’d never seen before. His colour was darker, his greying hairs hidden away with dye, his clothes modern, younger. Perhaps a little too young, if anything. Duncan had always dressed so dapper, but now he looked like a politician out of a suit. Alien in his surroundings.
‘Hi,’ he’d said, as if that could possibly cover the years between them. As if one word would ever be enough to address each other. It sounded feeble to her ears, and looking at his expression, April knew with a pang that he was thinking the same. How is this person a stranger now? How does that happen to two people in love? If love just isn’t enough, then what is the point? In us, in anything?
‘Hello,’ she said, finding herself wanting to look away. She hadn’t wanted to come in the first place, but she’d told their mutual friends she wouldn’t miss it. The last time they’d seen each other, it was at their divorce hearing. When they’d signed to separate their lives. ‘I didn’t think you’d be here.’
‘Er, well no.’ He looked down at his feet. ‘Actually, it was a last-minute decision.’
April nodded once, lifting her chin a little higher and forcing herself to look him square in the eye.
‘Yes, well …’ She turned to leave. She’d already put her present on the pile and greeted Sasha, their expectant mum friend. She was more Duncan’s friend really, but the two had got on from the off. Sasha was about the only one who kept calling after he left. For her. Before Mum got so sick so fast, and she was left alone. April was happy for Sasha and Elliott; in fact, it was the one baby she could tolerate talking about. The fact that she was at a baby shower was an achievement in itself. Six months back she had punched a hole in a box of nappies on a supermarket shelf, making a toddler sat in a nearby trolley cry, and her mother look down the aisle in desperation.
‘Hormonal woman, clean-up on aisle 3. Rocky Road, Kleenex and Pink Gin required immediately. We thank customers for not approaching that aisle, until the situation is contained.’ That was right after they’d signed the papers. She’d left the office, and for lack of anything better to do, she’d gone to buy food.
‘April, she’s here.’
He might as well have shot her. Right in the back with an arrow of broken, irretrievable love. It would have hurt less.
‘She’s … she’s … here?’ April half turned, one of her feet steadfastly pointing towards the front entrance and the safety of her car. The other was wavering in between. ‘Why?’
Duncan lifted his hand and tucked his hair behind his ear. It was a move she had seen him make countless times, his muscle memory realising all too late that his hair was different now. There was no cute little curl to tuck in. The thought of that missing curl made April unspeakably sad.
‘Well, Sasha has met her, and the divorce is do—’
A woman’s voice called his name, and he turned in its direction instinctively. April’s foot finally met the other, and she started to walk away. She couldn’t see her, she just couldn’t do it. She would lose it right here, right now.
‘Wait, please,’ Duncan said, his hand closing around her arm, just above the elbow. She flinched, caught between her own hurt and the social-event etiquette she never quite got right. She stuck to her gut, elbowing him off and herself free.
‘I’m not interested, Dunc, you knew I was invited. Sasha told me she told you!’
Her voice was raised now, and people were diplomatically giving them the side eye while milling around the boutique hotel, moving from onesie-making stations to waitresses serving buck’s fizz.
‘Please, just let me explain.’
‘No, Duncan, no. I’m not interested. How could you put Sasha in this position? Let alone me!’
Duncan sighed heavily, his hand in the air halfway between them. Behind him, April could see Sasha looking across the room nervously, her hands cradling her bump protectively.
‘The thing is, April …’ He closed his eyes a fraction too long before answering. ‘She’s here because she and Sasha have become sort of friends recently.’
April snorted. ‘Really, a pregnant happily married woman and a homewrecker? They have a lot in common? Pull the other one.’
‘Sasha’s our matron of honour,’ he blurted out. ‘We’re getting married, April. I’m sorry to tell you like this.’
The air around April seemed to shift and sway.
‘Married?’ she echoed, marvelling that she could even still speak. She caught sight of a woman standing with Sasha, the pair of them speaking in muted tones, and she
