Page 86 of The Lucky Escape

‘Not as much as here, surely?’ He looked out to the water admiringly.

I took in his smart suit and unbuttoned collar and blue eyes and blond hair, set against the city and the way everything seemed hazy and blue as twilight fell. I didn’t want to lie, but I couldn’t find the words for the truth.

Dinner was a feast of moules-frites and fresh crusty bread, inside a tiny little restaurant where Jules seemed to know the owner. We drank wine and laughed as he tried to teach me some basic Flemish.

‘No, the accent is wrong,’ he said, as he corrected the way I said ‘Hallo’.

‘Hallo,’ I tried again, and he nodded.

‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘It has a hardness to it. Now let’s trygoodbye.’

I ate with my fingers, using one of the mussel shells as a little pincer to pull apart the other mussels and scooping up the salty fries to dip in the sauce.

‘The worst thing you can do is call these French fries,’ Jules told me after I exclaimed how good they were.

‘Why?’ I asked.

‘It’s an ongoing dispute,’ he said, flashing me that smile. ‘We Belgians have records of fries existing way before the French.’

‘You learn something new every day,’ I replied.

Pudding was some sort of pastry crust with a cheesecake filling, and coffee was served with actual Belgian chocolates. I made a mental note to pick up a huge stash for Freddie and the Core Four at the airport tomorrow morning.

‘That was incredible,’ I declared afterwards, as Jules paid the bill and we headed back to the hotel. ‘You’ve been a wonderful tour guide. Thank you so much.’

Jules offered me his arm and I took it, strolling in step with him through the darkened cobbled streets.

‘I was sorry to hear about your fiancé earlier today,’ he said, the notes of a street musician floating up through an alleyway. ‘Luke said he was surprised to hear you’d broken up.’

It wasn’t lost on me that in order for Luke to have said that, Jules must have asked about it.

‘Oh, don’t be,’ I said. ‘It hurt and then it didn’t. These things happen, don’t they?’

‘They do,’ he agreed.

We found where the music was coming from and stood to listen. A young woman sang in Flemish as a man accompanied on an electric piano. It was haunting and beautiful at the same time. She sang with incredible sorrow and pain for such a young person.

‘She is singing about a love that went away,’ Jules explained to me, coming in close to my ear so I could feel his breath on my neck. ‘She is saying, “I sent my love away, but I wanted him to come back. My love won’t come back, so now I am alone.”’

Tears welled up in my eyes. I felt like I’d been sucker-punched square in the gut.

‘She’s so good,’ I whispered, quietly, and when they finished we applauded and Jules put a note in their collection box. We walked home in silence. I was thinking about Patrick. How could I fix things, but without apologizing? I didn’t want to admit to having done anything wrong, because I didn’t think I had. But I missed him. I did. Everything was better when I did it with him.

‘Here we are,’ Jules said, when we got to where I was staying. We both looked up at the building and he turned to me.

‘Thank you again,’ I said. ‘For everything you’ve done today. It’s been really …’ I couldn’t find a word that I felt enthusiastic about. I settled oninformative.

Jules nodded, and stuck out a hand for me to shake. ‘Your fiancé is an idiot for letting you go,’ he said, bidding me goodnight so I could walk into the reception area alone. I wasn’t thinking about Alexander letting me go, though. I was thinking about how I’d be a fool if I lost Patrick.

41

I took a cab straight from City airport after I landed, near to Newington Green. Adzo had given me instructions to meet her by the entrance to my local park, the one near the hairdresser’s who’d given me my pixie cut. To say I was shocked that she’d made it all the way to this side of town would be an understatement, especially before work, because I’d never been sure she actually knew this side of town existed. Adzo is one of the most well-heeled, well-travelled women I’ve ever met, but I’d always assumed that in terms of London extending further east than Oxford Street, for her intents and purposes I essentially lived in Essex. But here she was.

‘Hold on,’ she said. ‘Let me just get my bearings.’ She held her iPhone out in front of her, set to maps.

‘Is this about the flat? Just tell me! There’s a mariachi band in my head from too much wine last night, this overnight bag is a hindrance, and it’s cold.’

‘It is cold,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you pop in there and get us a tea? Leave your luggage. I just need a second.’

---