Page 54 of My Summer of Magic Moments

It was two weeks since they’d both been there. Since she had dashed off, full of anger, accusing him of all sorts. She felt herself flush a little as she remembered.

‘Yes, last weekend.’

Of course. The bank holiday. ‘It’s such a beautiful place,’ she added.

‘It is.’ He smiled softly.

Beautiful, she mused, and full of memories. Shaken up right now like a kaleidoscope – the meal in his garden, the tea lights glowing, the taste of raspberries and cream, the smell of the sea, dancing barefoot on the beach … the gut-wrenching twist of betrayal, or so she thought … Despite the horrible ending to it all, the truth of which it seemed she was about to find out, she had missed it so much. And him.

‘Right, I’ll show you where this park is. I escape there sometimes on my lunch hour.’ Yes, she’d watch the children play, feel the sun on her face or the wind in her hair. It had been a really important place to her when she’d first gone back to work after her chemotherapy sessions. The park kind of grounded you. Reminded you that life was still carrying on, and that was a good thing.

They walked fairly close together, but not touching in any way. The unspoken was keeping a polite space between them. He might still be a shitty adulterer, for all she knew. But would you seek someone out to tell them that? Track someone down to say another goodbye? Too many questions were flitting in her mind. She took a sip of her latte as they entered the stone gates of the park and wandered along a leafy grove, dappled sunlight beaming across their path.

‘I’ve been reading more of your column. The magic moments.’

Curiosity burned. ‘Was it you?’

He quirked an eyebrow at her.

‘The “E” last week? Was that you? All those things about the beach. Our evening.’ Her voice faded, realizing she’d look a right idiot if it hadn’t been him. If she’d been clutching at similarities.

But he smiled broadly, showing white, even teeth. And his lips. Boy, she remembered those lips. ‘Might have been.’

She smiled back tentatively, the sensible part of her brain still keeping her in check.

‘Okay, I need to be honest with you. Yes, it was me.’

Her heart did a little skip.

‘Look, I didn’t want you to think – I don’t want you to think – that I didn’t care about you, Claire. Or that I used you in any way. It wasn’t like that.’

So here it was, the truth.

They stopped walking. There was no one in earshot. In the distance, there were some children on the swings, a toddler standing next to his dad feeding the ducks. She could hear them quacking animatedly.

‘So tell me.’

He took a long breath and looked at her. ‘That photo. It’s of my wife and child.’

Ah shit, the cheating dirt-bag. So she’d been right all-a-bloody-long. And there she’d been, getting all soppy again. She should have known better. She hardened her stare.

‘Sarah and James.’

She watched his Adam’s apple bob uncomfortably in his throat. Well, she didn’t want to hear how they were ‘taking a break’, how his wife ‘didn’t understand him’ or any of that bullshit.

Ed was biting his lip. She saw his hand tremble as he ruffled it through his hair.

‘They’re dead.’

Claire froze, registering his ashen face. ‘Oh my God. I’m so sorry, Ed. Both of them?’ Oh no, no, no. How could they both be dead? That cute little boy in the photo and his mum. Her eyes filled with tears. Fuck, poor Ed.

He nodded blankly. Yet she realized it wasn’t blank at all; it was as if pain riddled his whole body, making it useless.

Claire didn’t know whether to reach out for him, to hold him. But his body language was so stiff, so raw with grief, that it was as if he needed that space between them.

‘Oh, Ed. That’s so terrible.’ She was curious to know how his world had fallen apart so horrendously, but sensed not to ask just at that moment.

He started walking again slowly along the path. She kept time in silent support.