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be later. Good to meet you,’ he says to Chris, unconvincingly.

We sit for a moment in silence. Surely we won’t be here until half six. It’s only quarter to four.

I take a breath and try not to panic.

Twenty-Seven

‘Go on then, what did you want to say?’

He sighs. ‘I don’t know. Everything’s weird.’

‘Right.’

‘Christmas was weird, and–’

‘Weird how?’

I’m curious. I had a lovely Christmas, even though I was disappointed Edward wouldn’t dress up for the town’s Victorian shopping festivities. He ended up hiding upstairs while I did it. But now I have lots of photos of me in a top hat, so I guess it’s still a win. And then for Christmas Day and Boxing Day we went to the Shed and it was freezing cold but brilliant. We ate loads of food and had lots of sex. I’d have to say it was one of the best Christmases ever. Just thinking about it makes me smile.

Chris, however, is not smiling. ‘I don’t know. Noisy. Busy. Different.’

‘That’s all your Christmases from now on,’ I tell him, amused by his expression. ‘Anyway, I thought Christmas with children was meant to be magical. Just think,’ I add, ‘next Christmas you’ll have a baby! You can buy one of those outfits with “Baby’s first Christmas” on it.’ I laugh. He doesn’t. He just sits there. It’s hard work, this. I don’t know why I have to make all the effort; I didn’t ask him to visit me. I watch two older couples come in, peruse the cake selection, and then head out to the conservatory, sitting to our left. It seems to take them for ever to struggle out of their coats and scarves and settle into their corner. Chris has finished his food and is fiddling with the pepper grinder. I nearly lean over and take it from him, but I know it would be inappropriate.

‘Does Susanna know you’re here?’ I ask with interest. He looks shifty, which is not a thing I’m used to.

‘No,’ he says, ‘I thought it might be better not to tell her. I told her I was going to see Barney.’

Barney lives in Jedburgh. Chris was at university with him; he’s quite odd. Odd enough that it would make sense for Chris not to take Susanna to visit him. I nod.

‘She’d be upset that you wouldn’t want to see her.’

I look at him blankly. ‘Why on earth would I want to see her?’

‘She doesn’t like to think that you hate her.’

I snort. ‘She should have thought about that before, shouldn’t she? Anyway, I don’t hate her, particularly. I mean, I did, I suppose, but really.’ I shrug. ‘I wish it hadn’t happened, but it did, and we all have to get on with it, don’t we?’

‘You’re happy?’ he asks, rather abruptly.

I think about it. I’m not all that happy to be here, now, if I’m honest. Mostly I am, though; unexpectedly and delightfully happy, despite the dark thread of sadness that still lingers on the edges of my life. I’m fairly confident that will go away, in the end.

‘Yes,’ I say, ‘I’m happy.’

‘You like him, that… Edward.’

‘I like him a lot, yes. I’ve been lucky, to meet someone. I didn’t expect to.’

He’s still restless, fiddling with his spoon now, eyes sliding across my face.

‘And you? You’re happy?’ I feel obliged to ask. Cerys, bringing coffees for the old people, has brought me one too. I’m grateful for this, and the unobtrusive way she slides it in front of me and hurries away. ‘Looking forward to being a… to the baby? When will it be born?’

‘April. I… Yes,’ he says, but I don’t believe him.

‘It will be all right, once it’s born. I expect you’re just nervous. It’s a big thing, isn’t it? You shouldn’t worry, though. People fall in love with their children.’ I smile at him, trying to be reassuring.

That was my job for a long time – to reassure him. You can’t just forget something like that. When he was anxious about something at work, or if he had a row with his mum. He hasn’t done that for years, but when we were young they used to fight.

I wonder what his parents think about all this. They’ve been grandparents for ages; his eldest niece is seventeen or eighteen. I feel guilty that I’ve more or less dropped his family. But I’m sure it’s easier for them not to have to think about me. I did send a Christmas card, but I didn’t buy gifts, or birthday presents either, for the girls who were my nieces. That’s mean; it’s not their fault. I shall try to do better.

‘I think I’m too old,’ he says. I see it in his face – he’s terrified, the poor bastard.

‘Oh, come on, Rod Stewart’s a lot older than you,’ I say, and then, since he looks baffled, I add, ‘and he’s just had a baby. Or quite recently.’

‘At least he’s had loads of children already. He knows what to do. And he probably doesn’t have to do anything anyway. Being Rod Stewart.’

‘Yeah, true. But anyway, look, my grandfather was forty-three when my mum was born, and he didn’t die until she was nearly forty-three herself. If you’re worried about that.’

‘I’m worried about everything,’ he says.

‘Oh dear. Does Susanna know? That you’re worried? You probably should talk to her. And not me, ha ha.’

‘I know, I’m sorry. I just… It’s hard to talk to her, she’s so busy all the time, and the kids are there and…’

I sip my coffee, watching him over the rim of the cup. ‘More fun when you were just shagging?’

‘It’s not that,’ he says, but we both know there’s some truth in it.

‘I suppose you didn’t think about that. About the children.’

‘I had no idea we’d ever move in together,’ he says, ‘when it… when we were first–’

‘Oh yeah,’ I say, ‘that reminds me, I was going to ask about that. About when that was. I didn’t want to know at

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