‘Another letter?’ This one is a manila envelope. Yellow and sturdy.
‘Not quite. It’s something that was sent to me. By someone who cared. Take it. Don’t open it now, though. Wait until you are alone and feeling a tiny bit brighter.’
I take it, wondering what on earth it can be. ‘Aren’t you going to give me a hint?’
Evelyn says, ‘I think I already did.’
THIRTY-THREE
Monday is a bank holiday. I manage to sleep for a staggering fourteen hours, and I actually dream that I went to see Lisa. I wake up horribly disturbed and more confused than before because in the dream she’s nice and I really like her. In the early afternoon, after I’ve made myself bacon and eggs, I venture out for a run.
The beach isn’t as busy as I’d imagined, considering the weather is good. I run the path, but can’t get into my usual groove. When I concentrate on the pounding of my heart, I find myself thinking about Dylan’s heart. In fact, so many things have led me to think about Dylan’s heart. After I left Evelyn’s, I went straight home and googled his condition. I read until my head hurt, digesting all the medical terminology, comparing this clinic’s findings to some other’s. It all sounded as bad as Justin had said. Then I ended up googling dementia and Alzheimer’s, and reading some of the stuff Michael had emailed me, which I’d almost forgotten about. Somehow, I finished off an entire bottle of wine, and recognised that I’m going to have to take a look at my drinking.
I run out of steam, come to a stop, bend over and pant like a stressed dog. I am hanging there, panting, when I hear a car horn. When I glance up, there’s a red Datsun. A clapped-out relic from the eighties. Someone dark-haired at the wheel. I’m trying to see who they’re tooting at, then . . .
‘Michael!’
He rolls down the passenger window, all smiles. ‘Hi.’
‘What a freakishly random coincidence!’ I tell him.
‘Freakishly random? Or it might just be a plain, old-fashioned coincidence.’ He looks me over in my running gear. ‘Did you know that Evelyn’s very concerned about you?’
‘Is this déjà vu?’ I ask him.
He smiles. ‘It does have a degree of familiarity.’
My foot aches and I’m holding it up by my ankle, twirling to ease the short, sharp pain. I stop the movement, and stand there on one leg, like a pelican. ‘So you’ve followed me to the beach to tell me that?’
‘The beach and Evelyn’s concern aren’t related, I promise. I often come here. It’s my thinking place. I find I can’t think anywhere where I can put a TV on to distract me from the purpose.’
I smile. ‘Do you run as well?’
‘If I need the toilet. Or if I’ve a prospective date on the horizon. Otherwise, I usually sit just here and eat ice cream. Often one in each hand.’
‘No ice cream today then?’ He looks like he’s caught the sun, and it makes him appear more Mediterranean than British.
‘First, I have to stare at the sea and contemplate life. At that point, it’s usually ice cream or suicide.’
‘So we might have something in common!’ I chuckle. I really don’t know when the last time was that someone made me laugh. ‘So why is Evelyn concerned about me this time?’
‘Well, I’m not supposed to say.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’m not supposed to know the thing that you wouldn’t want me to know.’
‘And what thing is that?’ Then I gasp. ‘She told you? About my personal life?’
‘Not about your entire personal life. Just the highlights.’ When he sees my face, he says, ‘Hey. I don’t invite it. It just comes to me.’
She is trying to set us up! The little devil! You will meet someone in his place . . .
A playful twinkle appears in his big brown eyes. I like his eyes. They’re the best part of his face. ‘I thought you were joking before, Michael, but I think maybe you do need to get a life!’ I feel a little betrayed. Evelyn!
‘I’ve been trying for thirty-ONE years. I’m sure it’ll happen some day. But until then, other people’s lives are constant fodder for my entertainment.’
I start walking – limping. He throws the car into gear, and crawls alongside me. ‘All she said was you were going through a stressful time because of a broken relationship. We could share an ice cream and contemplate a joint suicide pact?’
‘You mean an ice cream each, or one between us?’
‘That depends on who’s paying.’
I wag my finger. ‘I’m doing this for Evelyn. Just so we’re clear. You can report back to her that you followed me to the beach and I haven’t killed myself yet, so she needn’t worry.’
‘I didn’t follow you to the beach. Though I might next time. Now that I know you come here.’ He reaches over and unlocks the passenger door. ‘Hop in,’ he nods to my foot. ‘And I don’t mean literally.’
He buys us cornets from a van, and we eat them on a bench overlooking the sea and the few families who are scattered on the sand, trying to pretend it’s hotter than it really is. ‘Remember when you wanted to know what was in the letters?’ I say.
‘It’s run between me and my wits every day.’
I playfully bat his arm. ‘Anyway . . .’ I tell him the gist of Evelyn and Eddy’s story. ‘So essentially, she loved two men. She had to choose. She didn’t choose Eddy. He only found this out after he’d already left his wife for her. Then his life was wrecked.’
Michael’s a great listener. He only breaks eye contact when he has to lick his ice cream before it leaks down his sleeve. ‘I don’t think Evelyn’s ever going to know if he forgave her. He’s never going to know that she came back for him. Life is so unfair sometimes.’
‘Of course, she tells it a little differently.’
My hand freezes with the cornet midway to my mouth. ‘What do you mean, she tells it differently? You know all this already?’
He beams a smile.
‘So I’ve sat here for half an hour telling you something you already know?’
‘More like forty-FIVE minutes.’