After You Left(74)

‘You know what I realised a very long time ago?’ Evelyn says.

‘I love hearing all the things you’ve realised, Evelyn!’

‘Anyone who judges us secretly envies us. Anyone who thinks they’ve done it all better than we have is lying to the one person we should never, ever, lie to – themselves.’ She smiles. ‘To finish what we were saying about Lisa, though, if you do go to see her, just remember why you’re doing it. Not out of hurt and anger or a self-pity trip. Not to get him back, but to let him go.’

‘Crazily, I still think he’s going to change his mind and come back. That he wrote that note in a state of shock, and that he’s still in shock, but that it will pass and his love for me will float back up to the top of his priorities. I just have this hunch that when I am least expecting it, he’ll phone or send a text and want to see me . . .’

‘You should set you sights on someone else now, Alice. On someone like . . .’ She stops, then says, ‘Michael!’

For a moment, I think Evelyn’s telling me to set my sights on Michael, then I realise she’s said his name because he’s walked through the door.

‘Oh!’ I laugh, and put a hand over my mouth. He gives me a very suspicious look indeed.

‘Wow. I’ve never seen anyone so happy to see me, except my uncle’s dog.’

I beam at him. ‘Your timing was impeccable. But you’ll never know why.’

‘Alice is just relieved to see a male who isn’t on oxygen,’ Evelyn says, and gives him a small, tight hug.

Michael gazes across the lawn. ‘Are they still out there? Do we need a search party?’

‘I hope your lawn man doesn’t charge by the hour,’ I tell him.

Michael’s eyes smile. ‘Okay, girls, let’s go put the kettle on.’

Much later, as we walk back to Evelyn’s flat, where my car is parked, I catch myself in a state of reflection about our afternoon. ‘Michael’s nice, isn’t he?’

‘And he’s not taken. At least, not that I know of.’

‘Nice and single? Hmm . . . Sounds like two good reasons to steer clear!’

We arrive back at the door to her flat. ‘I’ve had a wonderful day, seeing you again,’ Evelyn says, and she kisses me.

‘Likewise.’ More than you can know.

She scrutinises my face. Then she places a tiny little warm finger under my chin, and lifts it. ‘Why so glum suddenly?’

She’s amazingly perceptive. ‘Oh! I don’t know . . . Because I’m going back to that lonely flat? I suppose, I have my moments where I think, How am I ever going to put this behind me?’ But funnily enough, as I say it, I hear a voice inside me telling me that I will. Is it Sally’s? Evelyn’s? No, I think. It’s mine. Rhetorical. Almost progress.

‘You will, Alice.’ Evelyn grasps my upper arms. ‘You have lost something, but you will find something – possibly even someone – in his place. I promise.’

‘We’re not talking about Michael again, are we?’

Evelyn smiles. ‘Well, not all love has to be grandly romantic love. You just think that because you’re still so young.’

‘I’m not that young. At least, not to me!’

She opens her bag, and takes something out. ‘I wanted to give you this earlier,’ she says. She’s holding another small envelope. She looks quite solemn.

‘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.’