Page 80 of Forever, Maybe
The next dip? The fallout around her exhibition at the MacLennan Street Gallery. Two weeks of silence after a particularly venomous argument, Nell threatening counselling. “I don’t want to stay in a marriage with a workaholic,” she’d warned.
Counselling? He’d balked at the idea, horrified at the thought of laying himself bare to a stranger. It hadn’t come to that. For whatever reason, the tension smoothed itself out. Likely because Nell left White Lightning Communications—the job she loathed—not long after. Setting herself up as a freelancer had given her the freedom she craved and meant they saw more of each other. Notmuchmore—his insane work hours hadn’t changed—but just enough to keep her happy.
He’d helped, too. He’d found her a business coach, sent clients her way and cheered her on from the sidelines. It was enough for her to see him as a supportive partner again.
But then there washissecret. The dip that wouldn’t appear on Nell’s timeline because she didn’t know it existed. A memory he couldn’t fully confront, couldn’t even make sense of himself. Whenever it threatened to surface, he shoved it back down.No. I will NOT think about that now.
This was the trouble with too much time for introspection. It was no wonder he hated being idle.
One of the passengers who’d disembarked at Birmingham had left a newspaper behind. Grateful for the distraction, Daniel picked it up and began flicking through the pages, skimming headlines and avoiding his thoughts.
A crime writer had published a piece on the rise in arson attacks on small businesses in Glasgow, sending a shiver down his spine. It was all too familiar—just like the bad old days of the nineties, when one Glasgow family had made it their signature move.
Towards the back of the paper, a business leader he respected had penned a column about the upcoming referendum, where the UK would decide whether to remain in the EU. The man voiced deep concerns about the potential fallout if Britons voted to leave.
If the UK votes for what can only be described as a gigantic cut-your-nose-off-to-spite-your-face move,he’d written,imports and exports will suffer greatly. The consequences for the supply chain will be catastrophic, particularly for food prices…
Daniel folded the newspaper and slid it back onto the overhead luggage rack, unwilling to let worries over a hypothetical future—one he still hoped wouldn’t come to pass—cloud the rest of his journey.
He turned his attention back to the window. Now that they’d left the Midlands, the scenery had changed again. Countryside gave way to sprawling urban landscapes. Warehouses, industrial estates, motorways and rows of housing dominated the view. It gave him a fresh appreciation of Glasgow. For all its urban chaos, it had hills, munros and vast lochs within easy reach.
He wouldn’t, couldn’t, live anywhere else.
The conductor’s voice crackled through the speakers, announcing their imminent arrival at Euston Station. Passengers were reminded to take all personal belongings and thanked for travelling with Virgin Trains.
As the train slowed, the woman with the book brushed past him on her way to the doors. “Enjoy your time in London,” she said, her tone cool but her eyes scorching.
Before he could respond, she pressed a card into his hand, her fingers lingering just enough to make him flinch. “Just in case you ever want some extra-marital fun,” she added with a sly smile.
Blimey. Did women really do that?
He shoved the card into his jacket pocket—not out of interest, but out of habit as leaving litter behind felt wrong. He imagined Nell’s reaction when he told her. It would make her laugh out loud.
The train doors hissed open, releasing a flood of passengers onto the teeming concourse. It was quarter past three on a Thursday, and rush hour had already begun in earnest.
Even so, he spotted Nell immediately, waiting near the main information screens. His heart lifted at the sight of her. He hadn’t expected to meet here, but there she was, her smile radiant, lighting up the chaos around her.
She flung her arms around him. “Oh, it’s so great to see you!” she exclaimed, her voice brimming with warmth.
For the first time in days, everything felt right.
“Happy almost forty-second birthday!” he exclaimed, sweeping Nell off her feet and spinning her around. His suitcase toppled in the process, and her legs bumped into a few passers-by, drawing irritated growls. He set her down quickly, laughing as he caught his breath.
Her dark blonde hair gleamed, freshly washed and styled, but he couldn’t help noticing how much more weight she’d lost. The sleeveless jersey dress she wore highlighted her slender frame, and despite her radiant smile, the tension around her eyes betrayed her.
He pulled her into another hug, prompting a startled “Ooh!” from a passing stranger. “You look beautiful,” he murmured. “C’mon, let’s get to the hotel. There’s a king-sized bed waiting, and it needs breaking in.”
She grinned, slipping her hand into his. “If we take the tube from here, it’s just one change to Covent Garden.”
Descending into London’s subterranean depths, the heat and stench of the Underground hit them like a wall. Packed trains forced him to grip a strap handle with one hand, while the other held onto his suitcase. Nell clung to him, her head resting on his chest. Every lurch and curve of the carriage sent her tumbling into him—or worse, into another passenger.
“Sorry, sorry!” she muttered repeatedly, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
By the time they reached the Langbourne Town House, the chaos of the journey faded into the background. Liveried doormen in dark green tailcoats with gleaming gold buttons tipped their caps.
“Welcome to the Langbourne Town House, Sir, Madam! Would you like us to call a porter?”
Daniel opened his mouth to decline—two small suitcases hardly justified the fuss—but changed his mind. Why not embrace the full experience?
