I swallow hard and do everything I can to keep my voice steady. ‘No. Alice is …’ I nod in the direction of the bandstand.
‘Oh, OK. Is she all right?’
‘Yeah, she’s … good.’
‘Good. And hey – congratulations are in order, right?’ She taps her gloved ring finger. ‘Saw her posts on Facebook.’
‘Oh. Yeah. Thanks.’
‘Yeah, nice one, mate.’ Rich gives another unsmiling nod. ‘Congrats.’
He seems obviously on edge – like he’s more than ready to thump me if I come one step closer. But Daff … Daff doesn’t seem fazed. It’s almost like we’re work colleagues who’ve bumped into each other randomly, and she’s obliged to go through the awkward motions of small talk.
I don’t know how I was expecting her to react. I suppose I imagined her breaking down in tears, or screaming at me, or calling me every name under the sun. Whatever I imagined, this is a million times worse.
It’s like she hardly even knows me.
‘So …’ Rich shifts from one foot to the other. ‘We’d better be heading back, actually, mate. Only came out to get a bit of a breather from Daphne’s lot.’
‘Oi.’ Daff rolls her eyes at him. She looks half annoyed, half amused. It’s a look I remember well, and it blows yet another hole straight through me. ‘My mum’s been on the sherry,’ she deadpans. ‘You remember how she gets. Very … Greek.’
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I remember.’
I must be staring at her too hard now, because she glances down at the ground, and Rich slinks a protective arm around her waist. The sight makes my stomach flip.
He has aged since I last saw him, but maddeningly, he actually looks better for it. Back in 2020, he was lean and skinny and almost boyish, but he must have been hitting the gym hard, because he’s now filled out into a proper, handsome, sturdy man. He has Phil’s salt-and-pepper stubble, as well as his apparently immovable hairline. There is no denying it: he and Daff make a very good-looking couple. The realisation is like a punch in the gut.
My eyes drift back to her. I can’t help it. Is she happy with him? Is this what she wants? Is she happier than she was with me? My head is throbbing with so many questions, but just as I take a breath to steady myself, Rich clears his throat and gives Daphne a look.
‘Well,’ she says. ‘It was good to see you, Ben. Really. Take care of yourself, OK?’
‘You too,’ is all I can manage.
She looks me straight in the eyes then, and in that moment, I see it. Something flashes between us. Pain, maybe – the same hurt I saw shining in her eyes when she found those messages from Alice. Or it might even be regret for what we’ve lost. For what I caused us to lose.
Whatever it is, it’s only there for a second before it fades away.
‘See you, then,’ she says. Rich nods goodbye too, and then the two of them walk away, towards the park’s exit, Rich’s arm still fixed tightly around Daphne’s waist.
The pain of it is real – physical – like a blade in my chest. I can feel my eyes beginning to sting. I have to get out of here.
I turn and start walking, and as I stare straight ahead, I see that the watch-seller and his dog have both disappeared.
Chapter Forty-Six
Christmas Day 2023 is finally crawling to a close.
It’s approaching midnight now, and we’re back home, in our bedroom. Alice sits at the dressing table in her nightie, rubbing various powerfully scented creams into her face. I lie on the bed behind her feeling … not much of anything, really. Just hollow and wrung-out: half wanting this day to end, half terrified of what might come next.
The rest of the evening passed in an unreal fog, as if I was observing everything from behind smudged glass. Everyone came back to ours for coffee and cake, and I went through the motions as best I could. But it felt – it feels – like something has broken inside me. I can’t stop thinking about that look in Daphne’s eyes as we said goodbye. That flicker of sadness that told me she was still hurting too.
‘We need to be on the road tomorrow by half nine latest,’ Alice says. ‘Boxing Day traffic is always horrendous, and you know how annoying my dad is about lateness.’ She tuts at my silence, and catches my eye in the mirror. ‘Ben? OK? Half nine latest?’
‘Yep, sure.’
‘So that means getting up about half seven, eight?’
‘OK.’
She spins round to face me. ‘And try not to be so down about Wyndham’s tomorrow, OK? Because Dad’s obviously going to ask how it’s going. It was so embarrassing, you just sort of muttering vaguely about it in front of Phil and everyone. You should be proud to work there. I mean, isn’t it better than what you were doing before?’
‘Yeah, it is.’ I nod. ‘Sorry – I don’t mean to be down on it.’
‘It’s a good job, Ben.’
‘I know. I’m grateful for it. I’ll be on better form tomorrow, I promise. I’ve just been feeling sort of spaced out all day. Maybe I’ll take another Nurofen.’
‘Well, take something.’ She turns back to the mirror, snapping the lid off another pot of cream. ‘I don’t know what’s up with you, honestly …’
I shake my head. I don’t know either. I feel completely cut loose – like I’m sinking slowly into deep, dark water.
I have no idea what’s coming next: will I just keep jumping forward at random? Will I wake up next on my wedding day to Alice, and then on our honeymoon? And if so, when will it stop? What if I just keep hurtling randomly from month to month, year to year, deeper and deeper into a life I don’t even want?
The thought makes me giddy, like peering off the edge of a skyscraper.
On the other hand, what if the
