Page 3 of The Man Who Didn't Call
‘But you won’t be here. You’ll be in London.’
‘Are you sulking?’
‘Yes.’ He kissed my collarbone.
‘Well, stop it. I’ll be back down here in Gloucestershire soon after you get back.’
He seemed unappeased.
‘If you stop sulking, I might even come and meet you at the airport,’ I added. ‘I could be one of those people with a name on a board and a car in the short-stay.’
He seemed to consider this for a moment. ‘That would be very nice,’ he said. ‘Very nice indeed.’
‘Done.’
‘And . . .’ he paused, looked suddenly uncertain, ‘and I know it’s maybe a bit soon, but after you’ve told me your life story and I’ve cooked sausages that may or may not be edible, I want us to have a serious conversation about the fact that you live in California and I live in England. This visit of yours is too short.’
‘I know.’
He tugged at the dark grass. ‘When I get back from holiday, we’ll have – what, a week together? Before you have to go back to the States?’
I nodded. The only dark cloud over our week together had been this, the inevitability of parting.
‘Well then, I think we have to . . . I don’t know. Do something. Decide something. I can’t just let this go. I can’t know you’re somewhere in the world and not be with you. I think we should try to make this work.’
‘Yes,’ I said quietly. ‘Yes, me too.’ I slid a hand inside his sleeve. ‘I’ve been thinking the same, but I lost my nerve every time I tried to bring it up.’
‘Really?’ Laughter and relief spilled into his voice, and I realized it must have taken some courage for him to start the conversation. ‘Sarah, you’re one of the most confident women I’ve ever met.’
‘Mmmm.’
‘You are. It’s one of the things I like about you. One of the many things I like very much about you.’
It had been a great many years since I’d had to start nailing confidence to myself like a sign on a shop. But even though it came naturally now – even though I spoke at medical conferences around the world, gave interviews to news crews, managed a team – I felt unsettled when people remarked on it. Unsettled or perhaps exposed, like a person on a hill in a thunderstorm.
Then Eddie kissed me again and I felt it all dissolve. The sadness of the past, the uncertainty of the future. This was what was meant to happen next.This.
Chapter Three
FIFTEEN DAYS LATER
‘Something terrible has happened to him.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like death. Maybe not death. Although, why not? My grandmother dropped dead at the age of forty-four.’
Jo turned round from the passenger seat. ‘Sarah.’
I didn’t meet her eye.
She looked instead at Tommy, who was driving us west along the M4. ‘Did you hear that?’ she asked.
He didn’t respond. His jaw was clenched shut, the pale skin by his temple pulsing as if someone were in there, trying to break out.
Jo and I shouldn’t have come, I thought again. We’d been convinced Tommy would want the support of his two oldest friends – after all, it wasn’t often that you had to stand shoulder to shoulder with your school bully while the press took photos – but as each dreary, rain-spattered mile passed, it had become evident that we were doing little more than augmenting his anxiety.
What he needed today was the freedom to peddle synthetic confidence without being watched by those who knew him best. To pretend it was all water under the bridge.Look how I became a successful sports consultant, delivering aprogramme to my old school! Look how happy I am to be working alongside the head of PE, the very man who punched me in the stomach and laughed when I turned my face into the grass and cried!
