After Max disappeared, I sat for a while at the table watching the children play in the fountain. The sun was hot and lovely. I took off my cap and hoodie and thought about taking off my trainers and putting on my sandals, but remembering the dress I’d thrown in, I decided to change. I took myself off to the bathrooms.
Afterwards, I did what I had wanted to do when I first entered the garden: I went over to the fountain and sat with my feet in the water. The pool was shallow and the water was warm. The sun was directly overhead. Soon I was lying back with my eyes closed. The sun had warmed the stone beneath me. Now I was being warmed from above and below, within and without. In a sundress, in the sun, I was beginning to feel myself again. The horrors of the night, Gail’s anguish, Daniel’s desperation, and the trials of the day, Max’s cruel retribution, were dissipating.
With my eyes closed I listened to all of the voices around me. The children talking and laughing, the couples taking selfies, the students who sat on the grass behind me. They were speaking in Italian. The noises melded together forming a comforting backdrop to my thoughts, which were of nothing and everything. Free form. One moment of Helen’s writing, then Max’s slender hands, the next of my parents who had emailed to say they were going to visit Antarctica and inviting friends to join them, which by default included me. Iceland, yes. Antarctica, no. Then I wondered why I never visit the places I dream of visiting. I’ve never been to Norway, nor even Greece. Or further afield. I haven’t travelled. I’m not a traveller. I like London. I’m a Londoner. I’ve never set foot in Wales, even. Never been to Land’s End.
I opened my eyes and lifted myself onto one elbow. There was a group of boys, not older than twenty, seated close to me. They hadn’t been there before. All of them were looking at me. I smiled and lay back again. Let them look. They won’t find the courage to say anything. Even though I’m alone. Even though I smiled. They’ll find courage too late.
When I next opened my eyes they were gone.
As lovely as it was lying there in the garden with my feet in the water, I had to get back to Helen, who was waiting very patiently. I had nothing to fear in returning. Daniel wasn’t a threat anymore. My self-loathing had disarmed him. I knew what I was going to say to Helen, too. Liam had helped there. I knew now my initial impressions were the correct ones.
I went straight to the cloakroom for my books. Max was there. ‘I thought you’d gone.’
He was handing the attendant his chip when I spoke, and replied, as he turned around, ‘I was back in the office before I realised I’d left my laptop here.’
I could see his brain adjust to my change in clothes. He was looking at me in the way I had prevented him doing by wearing my jeans and hoodie.
‘You look amazing, Amy.’
I took the compliment, as it seemed completely involuntary on his part. He was probably wishing the words back in his mouth as soon as they were spoken. But they were said. I’d heard them.
‘You look the same,’ I said.
I handed my chip over and the man returned with my Waterstones bags. He handed them across. They were still heavy. Which I should have guessed they’d be.
‘Are you going back to the office?’ I asked as we exited the building.
‘Yeah, what are you going to do? Have you had lunch?’
‘No, but I’m running late. I’m going to deliver Helen Owen news she won’t want to hear.’
We were on the front steps. He had started to edge away in the direction of his office.
‘You’re working with Helen Owen? That’s a change for you.’
‘That’s why I can’t introduce you to Liam: you have to be an arse about everything.’
‘What did I say?’ He took a few steps back towards me.
‘That’s a change for you,’ I said.
‘I didn’t mean it that way.’
‘But I heard it that way and so will Liam. There’s an assumption in your tone that everyone agrees with your assessment of the writing world, in your classification system.’
‘Most do.’
‘Most don’t and I have the bank balance to prove it.’
‘Most serious-minded people do. Helen Owen would. You once did.’
I almost smacked him in the face. It was a very strong impulse, too. I stared at him, smarting from his words.
‘You’re wrong about Helen. She’s coming around.’
‘Under your influence, I suppose. Wait, is she still married to Malcolm Taylor?’
‘Yes,’ I said and put the bags down. They were cutting off the circulation to my fingers. One of the bags fell over and the top two books fell out. Paul Beatty’s The Sellout and Hot Milk by Deborah Levy. Max bent down quickly to pick them up and set the bag against the step so it couldn’t fall again.
‘You’ve got the entire Booker longlist here. It’s a bit late in the day to be reading this sort of stuff, isn’t it?’
‘Max, you can go fuck yourself.’
‘Don’t be like that.’
‘Oh, fuck off. You’re a shit. Why should I do anything for you?’
‘Because you owe me.’
‘Bullshit. I don’t owe you anything. Really. If I’m the person you think I am, I should tell you to go to hell.’
‘You’re going to get angry at me? You don’t have the right. You broke my trust and my heart. You fucking destroyed me. I’m not the man I might have been. I’m damaged. And you damaged me.’
Just at this moment we were interrupted by the sudden appearance of Alan, whom I hadn’t seen since he proposed in the Sound Bar.
‘Calm down, kids!’ he said, pushing his smiling face between us both.
Max and I took a moment to adjust to this change in direction.
Alan shook Max’s hand and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
‘Have you been up to the exhibition? What did you think?’
‘What exhibition?’ I asked.
‘The one my firm is sponsoring,’ he replied, and pointed to a banner hanging not five feet from both of us. ‘Legally Binding’, it said, ‘The Accoutrements of Law Down the Centuries’.
‘No, we just stopped by for a coffee and a chat,’ said Max.
Alan’s face fell. ‘Well, come up now and I’ll show you around. It’s very exciting.’
Max shook his head. ‘I have to get back to the office.’
‘I have to go, too, Alan. Sorry.’
Max turned and walked away.
Alan watched him go and then turned to me and said, ‘I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you two together. But I gather it wasn’t a pleasant chat.’
‘No, it wasn’t.’
‘You look lovely. Much fuller in the face than when I last saw you. Less gaunt. Did you take my advice after all?’
‘No, I’ve been living a half-life with two septuagenarians.’
‘It suits you.’
I didn’t say anything. I was looking at his face. He had so many opinions about me and how I looked. But his face was just a face. He wasn’t a handsome man, yet he wasn’t what I’d call ugly. He was just Alan.
‘Hey, I re-read your novel the other day.’
‘That’s creepy.’
‘I missed you. It’s still brilliant.’
‘It’s angsty crap. I have to go.’
I started to move away but stopped short, caught in a fog of thoughts about Max.
‘Have I always been a fucking bitch?’ I asked, and then added, before Alan had time to formulate his response, ‘No, don’t answer.’
Alan breathed in deeply and scratched the tip of his nose.
‘I mean I must have been to fuck Liam, right?’
‘Max wasn’t right for you. You weren’t as happy together as you now make out.’
‘What the fuck would you know?’
Alan looked off in the direction Max went. He was clearly hurt by what I’d just said. But he’d voiced something that rang too true after talking to Max.
‘Was I different then? With Max? Was I a different person?’
Alan sighed and brushed back his hair. ‘You were younger, that’s all. You made some mistakes. We all did. You need to forgive yourself.’
‘Stop. You sound like Dr Phil.’
‘You didn’t give yourself time to find out who you were. You went straight from school into a serious relationship with Max. And then you moved in together. It was a big commitment.’
‘It was the most natural thing in the world.’
‘You need to stop romanticising your time with Max. You wouldn’t put up with his shit now. You’re a strong woman. Max was always . . .’
I waited for him to continue, but he just looked at me blankly.
‘Max was what?’
‘I can’t find the right word. “Controlling” isn’t right. Neither is “manipulative”. But he was always trying to improve you.’
I thought about this for a moment. He was always trying to get me to read the books he liked. But then I pictured him reading Twilight because I’d asked him to. Remembering the pained expression he had worn then made me smile now.
‘I was always trying to change him, too,’ I said. ‘We didn’t agree on a damned thing.’
‘You’re complete opposites,’ agreed Alan.
‘And it was perfect.’
‘Then why did you fuck Liam?’
I stood processing what he had said. I didn’t have an answer. After a time, I said, ‘You’re a bastard.’
I moved off towards the road. ‘Don’t forget your books,’ he said, lifting the bags and handing them to me. Then he said, ‘Have you thought any more about what I said?’
I had no idea what he was talking about.
He pulled the little box from his pocket and held it up.
‘Really? You’re bringing that up again now?’
‘You never return my calls. You never answer any of my messages.’
‘It feels like a lifetime ago. It really does. So much has happened.’
‘Well?’
I’d been keeping an eye on the road. A cab was coming. ‘Be real, Alan. Stop with this fantasy. I’m bad news. Forget me.’
I hailed the cab and, clutching my bags, got in, leaving a visibly bemused Alan on the steps waving goodbye.