Steady on, I warn myself.
But there’s no ignoring my jitters.
He scratches his head and glances at me. ‘How’s Lachie?’
I turn to stare out of my side window. ‘We broke up.’
The car jolts and I shoot my head around to look at the road, but can’t see why he had to brake. Was it accidental?
‘When?’ he asks with disbelief.
‘Just before I came away.’
The silence stretches out before us, but his mind is ticking over.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says eventually. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Getting there.’ I look out of my window again and clear my throat. ‘How about you?’ I ask. ‘Any of those blind dates come to fruition?’
‘No,’ he replies, and, as I turn to glance at him, he catches my eye.
The jitters in my stomach intensify.
He takes me to the Holly Bush in Hampstead, a cosy pub tucked away up the hill and slightly off the beaten track. Luckily, a booth comes free, right by the window, as we walk into the room off the entrance.
‘What are you having?’ he asks as I slide onto the bench seat.
‘Cider, maybe?’
He nods and heads off to the bar in the next room along. I look around, taking in the dark-wooden interior. There’s a fireplace against the opposite wall, but it’s not lit. It is July, after all. There aren’t many people in here, but then again, I realise, as I check my phone, it’s only four o’clock in the afternoon.
Alex returns after a minute with two pints. ‘Shandy,’ he tells me, nodding at his own drink to let me know he’s not planning on getting blathered and driving.
We chink glasses and smile across the table at each other.
‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ he says.
‘Do you mind? After your initial freak-out?’ I add with a smirk.
‘I didn’t freak out,’ he scoffs. ‘But it was a bit bloody strange to come back to work and find you standing there on our doorstep. I thought I was seeing things. What if I’d been out at a meeting?’
I shrug. ‘I don’t know. I probably would’ve emailed you at some point to say hi. I’m flying back to Australia on Sunday, so I doubt we would’ve had another chance to catch up.’
He swallows and looks down, but not before I’ve seen pain flicker across his features. ‘So soon,’ he says quietly. ‘So you’ve already been to Bridget’s wedding?’ He rests his chin on his palm and stares at me.
‘Yeah, a few days ago. I’ve been down in Cornwall for a couple of weeks already.’
‘How was it?’
‘Amazing,’ I reply with a smile.
‘Did you enjoy doing the pics?’
‘I loved it,’ I enthuse, lighting up from within.
His smile is warm and genuine. ‘You always did seem to feel at home behind a camera. What are your plans for the next couple of days?’
‘I don’t have any. I’m staying with Polly tonight and at a hotel near Heathrow tomorrow. I fly out first thing Sunday. Polly has to work tomorrow, annoyingly, so I’ll probably go shopping or something.’
Polly is in hospitality, so her work doesn’t stop at the weekends.
‘Is she still in Borough Market?’
I reel backwards and slap my hands on the table. ‘Sorry, but how do you do that? You remember everything!’
He laughs and shrugs. ‘Only some things. Anyway, you can talk. You’ve also got an uncanny knack of remembering. How did you recall where my parents live?’
‘I don’t know. I forget to tie my own shoelaces most days.’
We smile at each other, neither of us looking away as the seconds tick by.
‘Why didn’t you come to say goodbye?’ I blurt, the words spilling out of my mouth of their own volition.
He sounds bleak when he replies. ‘I couldn’t face another one.’
‘It wasn’t long enough, was it?’ That time we spent in Sydney.
‘It’s never long enough,’ he mutters. He sounds frustrated as he continues. ‘I can’t believe you’re going back in two days. Why didn’t you tell me when you were coming?’
I sigh. ‘To be honest, I wasn’t sure I could face seeing you.’
He flinches.
‘It’s just… Things have felt pretty raw recently,’ I say.
He nods and reaches for his pint. ‘I understand.’
‘Tell me about your business,’ I say as he drinks, abruptly changing the subject. ‘How do you know Neal?’
After a bit, we order a couple of bar snacks, and later we get a couple more. I think I could stay there all night in that cosy pub, chatting and drinking, but I know I need to get to Rachel’s.
‘Jesus, it’s already six thirty!’ I exclaim, when I finally pull out my phone to check the time.
We share a mutual look of dismay.
‘It’s going to be a long way back to Polly’s couch,’ I say with a sigh.
‘Where does she live now?’
‘Croydon, south London.’
‘That’s miles away!’ He looks alarmed. ‘Why aren’t you staying at Rachel’s?’
‘I didn’t want to ask. Her boyfriend has just moved in and…’ I shrug. ‘It’s not a big deal. Tube and train. I’ll be fine.’
The atmosphere in the car feels heavier on the drive to Rachel’s. I don’t want to part company yet. It still feels too soon. There’s so much we haven’t said, so much ground we haven’t covered. I don’t even know what else I want to say, but I have this overwhelming urge just to be with him.
He pulls up outside Rachel’s and cuts the ignition, tilting his chin in my direction without looking at me.
I don’t make any move to get out of the car.
He groans suddenly and drags his hands across his face, then looks at me properly.
‘I have a spare room,’ he says.
I jolt with surprise.
‘I could go to the pub, do some work and wait for you.’ He pauses for my answer.
‘Are you sure?’ I ask in a small voice.
His face lights up with his smile. ‘Yes, I’m sure,’ he breathes with relief, tension visibly leaving his body. ‘What time should I come back?’
‘In an hour or two? Can I text you?’
We exchange numbers, but he doesn’t drive away until Rachel has answered her door.
‘Who was that?’ she asks, her normally barely tameable blonde curls pulled back into a loose ponytail.
‘Alex,’ I reply.
She meets my eyes, agog.
‘It’s nothing. I’m just catching up with him while I’m here. He’s coming back for me later. We’re just friends. I might crash at his. He has a spare room.’
‘You don’t have to explain yourself to me,’ she says laughingly as I dither about on her doorstep. ‘Come in. Can I get you a glass of wine?’
‘Better not. I think I need to keep my head tonight.’
She looks amused.
The photographs of Bridget and Charlie’s wedding are out of this world. Their picnic reception took place on a pebble-and-shingle beach called Lansallos. The cove is horseshoe shaped, flanked by stunning greeny-grey rocky cliffs, and the aquamarine water makes the most stunning backdrop to the photos.
‘You’ve still got it,’ Rachel says with admiration, staring at the picture of Charlie with shining eyes as he waits for Bridget at the altar. She clicks on her mouse and moves her corresponding shot of Bridget so they’re side by side. My friend’s eyes sparkle with love and emotion.