Part 18 (1/2)

”So...why are you here?”

”What do you mean?” Laura looked at him over her Pimm's.

”I mean, here on holiday. I still don't quite understand it. Yesterday you said something about how your job was weird at the moment. And you keep darkly mentioning how you've apparently fallen out with various people, which I don't get either-you don't seem like someone who's constantly making enemies.”

”I...” Laura began, but she didn't know what to say.

Nick said lightly, ”So-what happened?”

”Ah.” Laura looked at him, not sure how to answer. She said tentatively, ”Well...it's complicated.”

”Complicated. I see,” said Nick. He paused. ”Don't tell me if you don't want to. I don't mean to stick my nose in.”

”No, no,” said Laura, relieved that his curiosity was only that, nothing more. ”Well-it was...well, it was just this bloke-this bloke I was seeing. That's all.”

”Right,” said Nick. He drained his drink. ”It is none of my business, don't worry.”

There was silence.

”He had a girlfriend,” Laura said in a rush, unable to bear it. ”We had an affair, he was-Dan-he was still with his girlfriend. I got it wrong, I got a bit-er, ah-I f.u.c.ked it up, basically. Big-time. Kind of got everything out of proportion.” She cleared her throat and said in a small voice, ”I thought he loved me. It's stupid. Anyway, that's it. It's over.”

”And where's Dan now?” said Nick in a neutral tone.

Laura chewed a fingernail, looked up, and said, ”With his girlfriend. Pregnant girlfriend. On holiday in Miami. We were...supposed to go away together. But I found out about her...being pregnant.”

”When?”

”Two weeks ago,” Laura said, smiling ruefully. ”Lost the money on the holiday. Been suspended from my job, too. Oh, yes,” she said, meeting his eye, almost enjoying the surprise on his face, ”I've really screwed it up. For the moment, anyway.”

”So you came here to get away from it all,” Nick said.

”And so I came here.” She looked up and said definitely, ”It's over. That's it, end of story. I'm getting over him.”

She smiled at him over her gla.s.s. And suddenly, something clicked inside her. She was getting over Dan. She wasn't there yet, but it didn't really hurt so much-the whole thing didn't, suddenly. She hadn't thought about it, couldn't bear to, and now that she said it, she realized she was. It seemed...a million years away.

”Good for you,” said Nick, and he smiled at her, the hard lines of his face softening as he patted her arm. ”Sounds pretty rough.”

”It was-a bit.” Laura looked at him gratefully, surprised at how much the gesture meant; he knew she didn't want sympathy, just a bit of human understanding. ”But you're right. I'm here to get over it. This is the turn-over-a-new-leaf approach, this week. So far, not too bad. Well, now I've met you, that is. So, thanks.”

”Well,” Nick said, raising his gla.s.s, ”thank you, too. Here's to the new-leaf approach. Or the Norfolk Outreach Program for Mental People. After you leave, I'm going to start hanging around the station waiting for the London train, to pal up with the next unstable person on holiday and in need of a friend.”

”Well, that's really kind of you,” said Laura.

They were silent; both took sips of their drinks. Laura looked at her companion under her eyelashes until his eyes flicked up toward her, and she looked elsewhere, at the old photos, the dried flowers in baskets on the windowsill, the clock on the wall. It was getting on for nine-thirty. But she could still see his face in her mind's eye, like she had taken a snapshot. The close-cropped, curling black hair; the bony face with its rather harsh expression, tanned by the summer sun. The expression in the eyes that gave away so little, and occasionally so much. It was strangely familiar, that face, and he reminded her of something, someone; but for the life of her, she couldn't remember what.

”When do you go?” he said suddenly.

”What?” said Laura, still lost in a dream. ”Oh.”

”When do you go?”

”Sat.u.r.day evening,” she said. ”But I have the birthday lunch all day on Sat.u.r.day, so-”

”So...what are you doing tomorrow?” he said, s.h.i.+fting in his seat on the wooden bench.

”Evening?”

He nodded, his expression inscrutable.

”Nothing,” said Laura. ”Well...” She felt a bit guilty suddenly. Shouldn't she be spending more time with her parents? With Mary? But she saw them all the time, a voice inside her said. And there was the lunch on Sat.u.r.day, after all-she'd see them then. Surely that was- Laura jumped and glanced down. Nick had put his hand on hers. He said quietly, ”I know you have to go. But tomorrow-do you fancy a picnic at the beach? Since it's your last night?”

Suddenly Laura didn't know what to say, which was weird because, up till now, she'd felt she could say almost anything to him. She looked anxiously up at him, into his eyes. They were narrowed, watching her almost fiercely, the old expression of kindness, humor, arrogance, and sarcasm mixed with...something else, something undefinable. His grip tightened slightly; then he released her hand and sat back.

Laura said slowly, ”Yes, of course.”

He nodded, and they looked at each other again, rather blankly, until he said, ”Meet me there at seven. I'll bring the picnic.”

”Really?” said Laura. ”No, I'll bring something, too.”

”No, it's my pleasure. Someone in the kitchens owes me a favor.”

”Right,” said Laura.

”How are you getting home tonight?” said Nick as he took another sip of his drink, watching her over the gla.s.s.

”I'm getting the bus.” She laughed at his bemused expression. ”Seriously. There's a timetable at home. I checked it before I left. The bus goes from just outside here, every half hour. So I won't have to force you out of your bedroom again. I've planned ahead.”

”Great,” said Nick. ”Well-that's great.”

There was silence between them, and this time it was awkward. Something had s.h.i.+fted imperceptibly. Nick said nothing. He looked down at the table. Laura wanted to say something, but she couldn't.

In the end, she said, ”So, I'd better go soon....”

”You don't have to,” he said abruptly. ”You could-”

”No,” said Laura softly. She drummed her fingers on the table. ”I...”

They were alone in their tiny alcove; the murmur of the other drinkers in the pub was faint. Nick slid his thumb under her hand and wrapped his fingers around hers, stopping the tattoo she was beating on the table. They stayed like that for a few seconds, her hand in his. Laura looked up at him, her heart beating so loudly she was sure he could hear it. He was watching her with that strange, familiar expression. His face was pale under his tan. She noticed how plump his bottom lip was, how biteable it was, compared to the sharp lines of the rest of his face. And then he put his other hand behind her neck and gently pulled her toward him, and kissed her.

His lips were soft, his arm was wrapped around her, and she could taste fine, salty sweat on his skin as she kissed him back. They pulled apart. She looked at him, drinking in the sight of him, and they said nothing again, but smiled at each other in understanding. Nick was still holding her hand; he squeezed it, and then put his other hand up to her mouth. He touched her lips gently with his fingers, and his hand dropped to his side again.

”Well,” he said, his tone noncommittal, but he was smiling at her.

Laura smiled. A feeling of happiness was was.h.i.+ng through her, like suns.h.i.+ne after a cloudy day. She looked into his eyes. ”Well,” she said, and tightened her grasp on his hand, as they stared at one another.

”What's your surname?” she said suddenly.