After You Left(75)

‘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.’

‘Why didn’t you stop me?’

‘I’m quirky like that. Besides’ – he captures my eyes again – ‘I enjoy listening to you.’

I shove the end of the cornet in my mouth. ‘Ha!’ I say, with my mouth full. ‘You’re a strange guy.’

‘Tell me another story.’ He puts his hands behind his head. His elbow fleetingly makes contact with my hair. ‘But this time, feel free to pick one I haven’t heard before.’

‘Oh, I think I’m done with stories for one day! Why don’t you tell me one? But a happy one. Or if not happy, then scandalous.’

He seems to think. ‘Okay. Well, this might qualify. Especially if you have a thing for the pathologically ridiculous . . . The truth is, I don’t always come here to sit in my car and eat ice cream. I came here today for a tryst in a hotel with a friend.’ He indicates toward town with a flick of his head.