Am I really so needy, so desperate? No, that’s unfair to Arthur. The guy is sweet, kind

Ihear a subtle cough behind me. No doubt Arthur was disappointed to wake up to discover the bed cold and empty, but he’s found me now. I lean on the table, listening to his approach, stiffening as his arms come around me, fearing his heat against my back. I stand passively as he hugs me. “Are you going to see your folks?”

“My sister, yes.”

Last night, his breathy words in my ear made me catch fire. Now, I detach myself. I step out of his embrace and he lets me go.

He’s standing there in just his chinos, barefoot and bare-chested. Unlike Reuben, Arthur has thick fur on his chest. I’d combed my fingers through it, rubbed myself against it.

“Yeah. I’m going home.”

“You are coming back though?”

I let the silence speak. He gives a stilted laugh. Offer him a coffee. Smile at him.

Don’t be such a bitch. Still I stand there, paralysed. He shrugs, defeated.

Mac

“The stranger carries with him the smell of bone fires and the east wind. Beneath the damp dark cloak, all that he might be is concealed. “All but the thin hook of his smile and the claws of his fingers on the jute sack. “His fingernails are as yellow as sheep hooves and rimmed with something white, like flour, and when Bella asks where he’s from his voice is too low to hear. “The answer falls to the ground, to be crushed by her father’s boots, by the stamp of his laughter. “What have you in the sack, traveller? A gift for the bride?” “A rare gift indeed, the man might have said.”

I barge into the cafe.

“She’s gone! I knew she’d leave. Women like her can’t be trusted.”

Anita, wiping down the table nearest the window, looks at me with something like alarm.

I brush past her, aware of the door slamming in my wake. The framed prints rattle against the wallpaper.

“It’s the east wind. The east wind never brings any good with it. The bible says it blows from the direction of God, but I’ve never believed that.

“Quite the opposite, if you ask me. But no one asks me. No one asks my opinion. Why didn’t she tell me she was going, instead of leaving a note?

“She’s good at that, isn’t she? Leaving notes about the place. I would have said to her – now is not a good time.

“There’s work to be done, before the east wind comes. And now it’s too late. It’s getting too late.”

The two old biddies who seem to live permanently in the corner are looking at me, whispering into their teacups.

I give them an evil stare. “Mind your own goddamn business!”

Arthur has been busy behind the counter, but now he drops everything and shushes me. He seems very tense.

“Don’t shush me! She left me a bloody note. A note! Not even a by your leave!”

“Mother, not here.” Arthur holds aside the bead curtain, and I blaze around the counter.

The kitchen is heavy with the smell of dough. Three seeded loaves sit on the worktop like a trio of bunched-up tabby cats.

I brandish the note at him. “This is just typical of Anna Madigan. She never came straight out with things.”

Treacherous

“What are you talking about? Look, Lucie got a call from home. Family business.

“And what the hell is wrong with you? You can’t come in here kicking off like that.”

“Since when did her family show the slightest interest in her?

“We’re in the middle of important work. I have a deadline! Is she coming back?”

“You’re not even listening to me.” He turns his back, tosses a checked tea towel over the bread. I can see Anita through the curtain, hovering. Her eyes are huge and watchful.

“Is she coming back?” I grab at Arthur’s elbow, but he shakes me off, rounds on me with a violence that is uncalled for.

“I don’t know, Ma! I’m not her keeper. She’s got a lot going on right now.”

“I’ve got a lot going on! What is wrong with people? No sense of loyalty, decency. Always out for themselves.

“I’d thought better of Anna, but it seems she’s just as treacherous as the rest of them!”

“Lucie.”

“Yes, Lucie. She’s just like –”

“You called her Anna. Twice.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

Did I? Fear throbs inside me. Anita is holding out a glass of water.

“Come and sit down,” she says gently. I follow her through into the cafe, docile now.

“I can’t believe it. She wouldn’t desert us, would she? I’d grown used to having her around. And things aren’t finished yet.”

No one answers me. I sip the water. It has a cold bite to it and I shiver. My teeth are chattering.

The east wind never blows any good.

Lucie

I take the early train north, sharing a table with a woman who looks up only briefly from her glossy magazine.

I don’t make eye contact, just lean into the window and watch the sea roll by for the next 20 minutes.

The train is a good place to think. Maybe it’s the gentle rocking, the landscape whizzing past... everything receding, making way for all the things that loom large in your mind in the middle of the night.

Like losing your new job, and being made homeless and destitute. And ending up in bed with Arthur.

Am I really so needy, so desperate? No, that’s unfair to Arthur. The guy is sweet, kind. He doesn’t judge me.

He makes me smile with his endless cakes and his twinkly eyes. He doesn’t take me too seriously.

But why did I have to take it too far? How can I be with Arthur when Reuben is still in my bones?

Sighing, I let my head loll against the back of the seat. The scent of coffee and the clink and rattle of the drinks trolley comes to me from some way off.

The thought of a caffeine hit and a packet of ready salted perks me up, pokes me with a little needle of excitement.

I can imagine I’m speeding away from it all; taking a minibreak of blue seas and open sky.

The light is different. Everything it touches, the clouds, the water, the grass, shimmers with some kind of eagerness.

My thoughts latch onto the mantra of the wheels. Arthur is behind me. Mac is behind me. The mill is behind me. All that darkness, and concealment and the suffocating, dripping greenery – all behind me.

Stone cottages loom and disappear in the blink of an eye. Perfect gardens, ponies. Wooded glens. Free and fleeting. Nothing sticks.

More tomorrow.