Page 97 of The Lucky Escape

‘So, the boxes …?’ I asked, and he pulled up a chair to sit opposite me.

‘This is your first time here,’ he said, as way of reply.

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I said to Freddie I’d never actually been in here. I never thought anything of it until today.’

‘Your place is so much bigger.’

‘Was,’ I countered. ‘Today is moving day.’

‘I know!’ he said. ‘I had to give myself a talking-to not to come and help with the boxes. I didn’t think you’d want me there.’

‘I wanted you there,’ I said. ‘Please forgive me. It’s you and me!’ I waited for him to say something, to explain the boxes, knowing that if I spoke again we’d go off on another tangent and end up discussing the weather, or the conflict in Syria, or sandwich fillings.

‘I think I knew pretty quickly that this was different,’ he said, gesturing between us. ‘That’s why I didn’t want us tosleep together right away – I just … oh God, this is going to sound so preposterous, but … I don’t know. I worried it might be my last ever first time with somebody. And the last person I felt like that about …’ Tears welled up in his eyes. ‘She died. And it was the worst thing I have ever, ever gone through. I used to wish I had died instead of her, but then I wouldn’t wish the pain of losing someone on anyone.’

‘I can’t even imagine how hard it was,’ I said. And then, after a beat: ‘I thought you didn’t want to sleep with me right away because I was your first since you became a widower.’

Patrick shook his head. ‘I have been with a ton of women these past few years.’

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Well. Good for you! That’s nice.’

‘I’m not showing off. It was always temporary and fleeting and a bit like putting a plaster on a gaping bullet wound. And then you and I got talking, and I flew to the other side of the bloody world with you …’

‘Yeah,’ I said, laughing.

‘And I felt things. I knew I still missed Mala from the bottom of my heart, but being with you made it seem as if there was something to be hopeful for. I knew if we slept together it wouldn’t be like the others. And I didn’t know if I was just going to be a rebound for you …’

‘I guess I thought you might be,’ I admitted. ‘I don’t know.’

Now it was his turn to laugh. ‘I never invited you here because I still had all our things exactly as they were when she was alive. Everyone said I needed to take some of the pictures down, and empty her side of the wardrobe, but I didn’t want to. That’s what the packing tape and boxes are for. That’s what I’ve been doing since I visited my brother. He told me it was time, and this time I listened. I needed him to help me find the courage to move on, because …’

I clutched at his hands, the hands of this tender, kind, insightful, bruised, hopeful man.

‘… Because if I didn’t,’ he continued, ‘I knew I’d risk letting the next woman I fell in love with slip through my fingers, too.’

A voice came from the doorway. ‘I told you he was in love with you!’ Freddie said. ‘I knew it! I could tell that day you came for Sunday lunch!’

Patrick let out a howl of a laugh. ‘Yup,’ he said, nodding at her, and then he turned and said to me, ‘I knew I’d fallen in love with you that day at the naked spa. I just laughed so much, and you were so hot – sorry, Freddie – and …’

‘Say it,’ I told him.

‘I love you,’ he said.

‘I love you too,’ I replied, and he leaned in to kiss me and Freddie said, ‘Ewww, okay, I’m going back in the other room now! I’m too young to see this!’

We broke apart but stayed nose to nose.

‘I am so sorry for everything you’ve been through,’ I said. ‘And I promise I will never expect you to forget Mala, okay? I love you, and I know that you will always love her, too, even if you love me.’

‘And I do love you,’ he said, pulling me back in for another kiss. ‘Did I mention that?’

‘You did,’ I said, into his mouth. ‘But I don’t mind if you want to tell me again and again and again.’

Epilogue

Early morning light cast shadows on the chalky walls of the flat. The double-height windows meant everything was so much more obviously seasonal, because there was so much more of the sky to see. It was impossible to ignore the rain when it lashed against the top-floor glass, but with the right lamps and candles and salted whipped cream with my coffee it was atmospheric and cosy. And, with the days getting longer and brighter, it was just as impossible to notice the shift in the clouds that drifted by slowly, deliberately, no rush to be anywhere and no desire to reach their destination. On mornings like this it made everything seem possible, and as I made the bed and ran a hand over the smooth linen of the sheets, arranging my throw pillows haphazardly at one end and artfully dishevelling a woven blanket at the other, I sighed contentedly at how everything I could see was by my own design. My home might have been shabbily chic and rented instead of owned, but it was a fair price and a room to call my own.

I walked into the lounge to grab the last of my coffee, myeyes lingering on the framed notebook page that took pride of place above my mantel. It said:

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