Page 27 of A Clean Sweep
His words tailed off, those familiar hazel eyes studying her intently. Susan felt her pulse quicken again as she took in his appearance. He reallyhadn'tchanged, aside from a slightly receding hairline and a few creases around the eyes. Just as handsome as always, still capable of creating butterflies in her stomach. Even after two decades and …
'So, what's new? Sorry, that's a seriously dumb question. I'm sure a lot has changed since— ‘Susan didn't know how to finish her sentence so let it hang in the air, laden with meaning and regret. No doubt he had met someone else, probably very soon after she’d treated him so badly. Men like Jonathan weren't meant to sit on a shelf gathering dust. Unlike herself, even if she had recently vowed to embrace a whole new world. She just didn't envisage a man in it. Ever.
'Look, this place is packed, your coffee's history – Susan glanced at the half-empty and rapidly cooling cup – and we have a heap of catching up to do. Why don't we buy what we mean to buy then find somewhere else to play Twenty Questions? Sound OK to you?'
Despite having barely glanced at the books, Susan paid for them, Jonathan waiting patiently by her side. He'd pickedup a guide to the best cycling routes in Europe – ‘Yes, I am still a bike devotee, once a nerd always a nerd!' – and they'd strolled a couple of doors down to a quieter spot with a free table in the window. Order taken, Jonathan had leaned back in his chair, a playful grin on his ever-youthful face.
'Right, who's going to start?' He held out an imaginary microphone which Susan smacked away. She'd forgotten – no, had pushed down into a hidden vault markeddo not open– how easy it had been with him. How relaxed, hownaturalit had seemed. Until she had forced him away, carried on a tidal wave of her own self-loathing.
'Youstart! My life's been totally tedious. I don't want you nodding off while I try to drink this cup of coffee before it's stone cold.'
Jonathan had laughed, that wonderful from-the-belly laugh she'd dreamt of even after the years had passed and she'd found very little humour in her humdrum existence.
'Me? Well, truth be told, I don't think they'll be queueing up to turn my story into a Hollywood blockbuster anytime soon. Although I've always fancied being played by Tom Hanks, as long as he can do a convincing English accent!'
Susan had listened as Jonathan condensed the past two decades into a bullet point list of highs and lows, memorable moments and ones better consigned to the annals of history. He'd met someone, it hadn't worked out, so he'd never married and – much to his sadness – never had children. He'd travelled extensively to some of the remoter parts of the globe, always intent on pedalling his way through scenic splendour. His parents had both died within the past few years – Susan had never met them but knew they'd been very close – and he now viewed his own mortality as an opponent to be outwitted and outsmarted.
‘That’s enough about me. Tell me aboutyou. By the way, you look amazing. Sorry, should have said that before but Iwas just sogobsmackedat seeing you again. The woman who broke my heart.'
He said this with levity in his voice but his expression told a different tale. If Susan didn't know better she would have sworn he still carried a candle for her. Which was ridiculous. Why would a man like Jonathan still hanker after a ghost from the past, when there were must be so many other women eager and willing to snap him up?
'I'm good. Well, apart from having cancer, I'm good.'
Jonathan had visibly tensed at her throwaway remark, his hand edging towards hers, her own fingers creeping of their own accord in his direction.
'Breast cancer. It's a bugger, but so far so good. Had some surgery and getting through a course of radiotherapy now. Not pleasant but not as bad as I'd imagined. Not that Ieverimagined it. It happens to other people, so when it happens to you it's like an out-of-body experience. But I'll get through it. There's no other option, is there?'
Jonathan had said nothing. Just squeezed her hand a little tightly and gazed at her with increased intensity. Her insides were now pools of boiling lava, threatening to spill over and lay waste to all the barriers she'd erected over the years. Was thisright? Could she possibly put aside all that had been said and done in the past and start afresh? Wouldheevenwantto, considering how callously she'd cast him aside? She felt like a completely different person now, but so was he. Was it remotely possible they could pick up the dropped stitches and knit themselves something new and sustainable?
As if in answer to her unspoken question, Jonathan raised his eyebrows and gesticulated towards the door.
'I think we still have a lot of talking to do. Which we can carry on at your place. Unless you have a doting husband who will punch my lights out if I turn up unannounced andwith my arms wrapped round you. I'm assuming that's not the case?'
Susan gathered up her handbag, her purchases and her courage. It was now or never. She'd let him go once before, a second time would be madness.
'There's no husband. There was only ever you. Shall we go?'
It wasthe middle of the night. Susan was wide awake, keenly aware of the sleeping presence next to her. They'd talked for hours, interspersed with tears, hugs and an overriding sense of making up for lost time. They could never claw it back, but theycouldmove forward. Together. That was a scary word in Susan's vocabulary but one she liked the sound of.Together. Not alone, not afraid, no longer the laughing stock or the recipient of well-meant sympathy. A half of something that added up to something worth having. She saw herself all those years ago, convinced she was right to let him go. Now? She had looked down the barrel of death and realised what a fool she'd been. Jonathan loved her – he'd said there had never been anyone else who came close – and she loved him. It was that simple. They hadn't made love tonight, just cuddled up and shared more stories. By mutual consent they'd gone to bed, kissed and then drifted off to sleep. He would be there in the morning. She turned over and willed herself to sleep a little longer. Because the rest of her wonderful, unimaginable life was about to start.
Chapter 18
Tabitha had woken gradually, the dawn chorus heralding the start of a new day. She hadn’t planned on wakingquitethis early but last night’s evening alone had given her plenty of time for soul searching. When she’d gone to bed just after ten – not long after receiving Tom’s text – she’d made up her mind. Staring at her deep-cleansed face in the mirror she had rehearsed the words carefully.
‘I’m sorry Tom, but this just isn’t working. I know it, you know it. There’s no one else. I just think we should call it a day.’
She hoped he wouldn’t betooupset – if he started crying she’d feel like a complete bitch – but it was better this way. Given time, he’d meet someone else and so would she. Hopefully. If her mother could start dating again then who knew what might be waiting forheraround the corner? She didn’t know what time Tom had rolled home. He was zonked out next to her, a beatific smile on his face as he snuggled up to his pillow. Oh dear, she was going to wipethataway pretty soon. She felt a pang of guilt as she eased her way out fromunder the duvet. Time for a slice of toast and a cup of coffee before she dropped her bombshell.
‘Excuse me, butwhat! Could you repeat what you just said?’ Tabitha felt like a character in a movie who’d slipped into an alternate universe. One in which everything had been turned upside down. Or maybe there was something wrong with her hearing. Had some of last night’s gloopy hair mask got lodged in her ears? She prodded inside one but found nothing amiss.
’I’m sorry. I said I think we should split up. It’s been on the cards for a while now. I really don’t want to hurt you, Tabitha, but it’s just not what I want anymore.’ He’d looked at her with remorseful eyes. She resisted the temptation to gouge them out with the bread knife. Howdarehe? Howverydare he? There she’d been, her script perfectly prepared, and he’d completely pulled the rug from under her feet.Shewas the one doing the dumping, nothim!
‘So, is there someone else? At least tell me the truth!’
Of course there was no one else. Tom might be ranking highly in the bastard scale right this minute but he absolutelywouldn’t… OK, now he was looking like a condemned man on the way to the gallows.
‘Actually, there is. I’m sorry, Tabitha. She’s not the cause, just a symptom.’
Which made this other woman sound like a rare medical condition rather than a brazen hussy who’d snaffledherman. Even if she didn’t want him to beherman. She just didn’t want him to be someoneelse’sman quite so quickly. He could at least have had the decency to feign heartbreak, just for a moment or two. Instead, he now looked like a condemned man who’d been told his sentence had been quashed after a last-minute appeal. Obviously relieved to have confessed his sins and now free to go and fornicate with a clear conscience. Or at least a marginally less grubby one. Was thatwhat he’d been up to last night? Not comatose on Clive’s couch after a beer-swigging session but busting the bed springs with Miss Perfect Pants?
