I can see the pain in his eyes, and it pulls on my heart like a magnet. Don’t go there. Don’t hug him. Don’t touch him

Lucie

“Just drop me off at the cafe,” I’d said to him. “There’s no need to take me home.”

As if the short stretch of road from the village to the mill would suddenly invite new depths of familiarity.

“It’s fine,” he’d replied. “Another mile won’t make any difference.”

I’d thought that was a bit cryptic, but then I suspect that Arthur has hidden and unexplored depths.

Something fleeting and treacherous suddenly rises up inside me.

As the car bumps down the track to the cottage, I gather my things together: the sticky lemonade, the half-eaten packet of biscuits.

I brush crumbs from Mac’s jotter and stow it more carefully in a side pocket, making a mental note to ask her straight out why she’s stalling with this when I want so badly to know the ending.

“Strange car,” Arthur mutters. I look up as we slow to a halt beside it.

It’s pale grey in colour, some kind of Toyota, with a number plate I don’t recognise.

“Looks like you’ve got visitors.”

“I’m not expecting any.” I pull the bag closer to me like a shield.

“That’s not my parents’ car, or Jane’s... ”

Loitering

Then I see him, loitering beside the cottage. Reuben. He’s checking his phone, and I wonder if he’s been texting me.

Today has been the first day in all these months that I haven’t been obsessively checking my mobile. My stomach clenches like a fist.

“Ah.” Arthur has seen him too. The car rolls forward an inch, as if he isn’t quite sure what to do. “Are you going to be OK?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” My voice sounds tight, remote. I release my seatbelt.

“I just mean... ” Arthur sighs and slips the car into gear as I open the door.

“Let me know how it goes.”

I’m out of the car, half-scared to attract Reuben’s attention. To Arthur I must seem detached, cold, but inside my heart is beating fiercely and my hand is shaking on the door handle.

“I’ll be fine.” I slam the door in Arthur’s face, and then turn and walk up the steps to meet Reuben. Once again, Reuben is standing in my kitchen. He looks tired, and the way his eyes kindle when he catches sight of me... well, that seems to be missing.

There’s an absence, somehow, as if the real Reuben is still in the hospital and this is a pared-down version.

The first awkward greeting, and the usual faff when you’re unlocking the door and ushering in an unexpected visitor, has diverted my thoughts.

But now, as I lay my keys down on the table and really look at him... now, I’m remembering that last time, when it was supposed to be over and we’d kissed and ended up in bed together.

The possibility is still there, floating round our heads like pollen, waiting to land.

Reuben’s once easy smile is flawed. I can see the pain in his eyes, and it pulls on my heart like a magnet. Don’t go there. Don’t hug him. Don’t touch him. Instead I ask him about his leg, about his new car and what it was like to drive, after the accident.

“Pretty scary, at first,” he says. “This is the furthest I’ve been, since.”

“That road... that must have been difficult.” He nods. No trace of the old bravado grin. My hand comes to rest on my abdomen, which feels all tense and knotted.

“Are you back at work?”

“Not yet. We’re discussing a phased return. I’ll be office-based for a while, obviously.”

Breathless

He raises the walking stick a fraction and lets it drop back onto the flagstones with a sharp rap. I rush to pull out a chair.

“Here, sit down. What am I thinking. Do you want a coffee?”

“No coffee. No, thank you. Your boss, she’s a bit frosty, isn’t she? Does she know about us?”

“Do you think she does?” Suddenly breathless, I slump down into the chair beside him.

“I thought she might have figured it out. She’s writing this story about two sisters and I keep thinking she’s playing games with me, pointing the finger.

“It’s like she’s saying this is you. This is what you’re doing to your sister.”

“So what? It’s none of her business, miserable old cow.”

Reuben dismisses it all with a sneer that makes me angry.

“You just don’t get it! How guilty I feel! Have you any idea what will happen if Jane finds out?” “That’s why I’m here.”

“What? She’s not –”

“No!” Again he pushes my fears aside. “It’s just... Jane and me, we haven’t been getting along. Has she been in touch?”

He’s staring at his trainers and my eyes take in the soft wave of his hair. No.

Suddenly he looks up. His eyes are shiny, moist. I shake my head. The knot in my belly tightens. “Not lately. We don’t confide in each other much.”

He rubs both hands over his face, his hair. “We’re in trouble. I think she suspects.”

“What? I knew it.” We’re facing each other, our eyes level.

Suspicious

There is no hiding place for this cold dread. “About us?”

He shrugs. “No... not us specifically. She’s suspicious, though. Asking questions.

“I caught her reading my messages once. Things haven’t been right since the accident.”

“Since the accident?” I repeat.

I’m thinking of all the months before that, the yearning glances, the secret meetings.

“Things haven’t been right for a long time,” I say, “or you wouldn’t have been sleeping with me.” He looks shocked. “I still loved her.”

“So where did that ever leave me?” My fingers are twisting together in my lap.

“You’re special to me.” He reaches out and grasps my hand.

The skin-on-skin contact comes as a shock and I pull away.

“Special?”

The word comes out like a pistol shot. “That’s a patronising word.

“That’s the sort of thing you say to kids on their birthday.

“You’re special, so you’re going to get a special present.”

“Don’t do me any favours, Reuben.”