Seven Days(70)

For a moment – a brief moment, there was no way she was really going to have sex with him in the forest, and she doubted he would either – she considered it, and then she caught a glimpse of some movement further up the path.

She slid away from him. ‘Stop it! There’s someone coming.’

He turned to look. There was the sound of twigs breaking, and then a man came around the corner.

Sandra stared at him.

‘My God,’ she said. She felt herself flush. ‘That’s Mr Best! Imagine if he’d caught us.’

He took a few more steps before he saw them, then he jerked to a stop. He was carrying a large rucksack, and was pale and out of breath.

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Sandra. Martin.’ He blinked a few times, looking around. He seemed on edge, almost startled. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Same as you,’ Martin said. ‘Out for a walk.’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Out for a walk. That’s right.’

‘How are you?’ Sandra said. She stood up. ‘It’s been a while since we saw you last.’

‘I’m well.’ He hefted the rucksack. ‘Although I’ve been a little under the weather recently. You probably don’t want to get too close!’

‘I’m sure it’s OK,’ Sandra said. ‘You look fine.’

‘I don’t know. I’m feeling a little warm. A little dizzy.’

‘Probably that big bag you’re carrying,’ Martin said. ‘Do you want me to take it? We can accompany you back to your car?’

‘No, no,’ Best said. He shook his head. ‘It’d ruin your walk. I wouldn’t dream of it.’

‘It’s no problem.’ Martin got to his feet. ‘Here. I’ll take it.’

Best took a step backwards. ‘Please. No. I’ll be fine.’

‘If you’re sure,’ Martin said. ‘But we’re more than happy to help.’

‘That’s very kind. But you needn’t worry.’ Best took a mobile phone from his pocket. It was an old flip phone. Sandra hadn’t seen one for a while. ‘I’ve got this. If I need to, I can call someone.’

He started to walk away from them.

‘Anyway, it was lovely to see you. Enjoy your day out.’

Sandra watched him walk away.

‘I feel for him,’ she said. ‘Living alone. You can see it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I don’t think he’s taking care of himself.’

‘In what way?’

‘Did you see his hands?’

Martin shook his head. ‘What about them?’

‘They were filthy. Dirt under the fingernails. And his trousers looked like they needed washing. They had mud on the knees and the hems.’

Martin shrugged. ‘Maybe he’d been foraging in the forest. Looking for mushrooms, or digging up roots. That might be what he had in his bag.’

‘I don’t know,’ Sandra said. ‘But he’s getting older, and he needs someone to look out for him. And he was so good to me when I was ill. I’ll go round and see him. Take a look at his house. We need to take care of him.’

‘Sure,’ Martin said. ‘It’s very neighbourly of you.’ He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. ‘And don’t think I’ve forgotten what we were talking about.’

She returned the kiss, then put her hand on his lower back and pulled him against her.

‘I won’t forget,’ she said. ‘I’ll be looking forward to it.’





2


Sandra glanced at her watch. On the countertop the fish pie she’d made was cooling. It was James’s favourite – had been since he was young – so when she had texted to say We’re selling the business, come over to celebrate, she’d followed it up with I’ll make fish pie, C U at 6?

Yum, he replied. See you there.

Now, though, it was six thirty and he wasn’t here. She picked up her phone.

Are you coming?

She half expected a text saying Sorry, went to the pub and lost track of time. Maybe save me some pie for tomorrow, which would have been fine. She understood he didn’t want to waste his Saturday night with his parents. But he had said he was coming, and she had made a meal and it would have been nice for him to let her know if his plans had changed, and it—

She stopped herself. She could hear the hectoring tone in her thoughts. If he wasn’t coming, he wasn’t coming. It didn’t matter. Let him have fun. One thing she’d learned from Maggie’s disappearance was that life was too short to get upset about stuff like your twenty-two-year-old son not showing up for the dinner you made. What mattered was that he was happy.

Or as happy as he could be. When Maggie went, it wasn’t only her they lost. For a while, James had disappeared. He’d become someone different. Quieter, more thoughtful. Wounded. She wasn’t sure he’d ever fully recovered. She’d discussed it with her therapist, who had told her that he probably was changed forever, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Everything changed us, one way or another, everything left its mark. Everyone had to deal with grief and loss and pain. So, yes, maybe he wasn’t fully recovered, but that was who he was now, and the best he – and her and Martin – could do was to help him be the best version of that person he could be.