RICHARD

He hadn’t felt like this before, this strange bubbling anger that seemed to simmer in the pit of his stomach, leaping and burning as he saw her pick her way down the path towards him, edging round the puddles that were ebbing from the day before.

She stopped in front of him, wary, as if she were a fox he had caught in their garden, staring him down before she scampered off. She tried to smile at him, one side of her mouth lifting, but he cut her off.

‘Mary is staying with us.’

She hadn’t expected that, her eyes widening so that he could see all the whites around her irises. ‘Mary? But—’

‘I went to the cottage the day before last. She couldn’t stay there.’

Abigail had changed colour, a blush creeping from the neck of her cardigan up to her face. ‘I didn’t know where else she could go.’

‘To your sister’s,’ he said, throwing his hands up. ‘There must be, what, six, seven bedrooms in that house and you keep your best friend in a leaky cottage with no heating, no way of cooking for herself.’ He could feel his face distorting as he spoke, his lip curled. Had he been so oblivious to this selfish streak in her? That she would hide away her best friend, not share all the comforts of their home. He thought of Mary then, her unwashed hair, the water boiling on the stove, the dust swept into corners, some semblance of order being created.

‘I couldn’t… I didn’t…’ Abigail’s chest was heaving, words jumbled and incoherent, her eyes not able to hold his for long.

‘It’s absurd. She looked utterly bedraggled and you were just going to keep her there, not take her up to the big house, afraid to have her embarrass you in front of your smart sister, I suppose?’

He could feel the bubbles leaping into his throat, his voice louder, teeth clenched as he looked at her, waiting for answers, to understand. She remained stubbornly silent. This girl who he thought had such a generous heart, who wanted to make the world a more joyful place, she was a lie. She stood there now, dumbly, arms by her side, no explanation, no excuses. Then the real truth, the fact that stung the most, spilled out of him before he could stop it. ‘You were going to leave without saying anything?’

It made her flinch. ‘Richard, I wasn’t… I didn’t… We had to…’

It stung, the pain of hearing her squirming, unable to deny it because it was true.

‘Were you going to let me know? Leave a note perhaps? I thought…’ It was his turn to stumble now, choke on the words he couldn’t form. ‘I thought we were planning a future.’

Tears sprang into her eyes and he stood there, fists clenched at his sides, waiting for her to respond, to deny it, to throw herself at him and tell him she was never going to leave. It was a hideous mistake; Mary had been wrong. She stayed there, her eyes lined with unshed tears. She took a breath, looked up at him.

‘I would have told you. I have to leave, we have to.’

‘But why?’ Richard didn’t want to beg, didn’t want to plead. A part of him wanted to apologize, to persuade her to stay, to propose to her, to do something that would mean she wouldn’t leave, that he hadn’t glimpsed his future only to discover it was make-believe and with a woman who didn’t exist. The larger part of him was telling him to turn around, to return home, to leave her there and not look back.

It had begun to rain, to spit; a cloud like a blackened bruise lingered over the tops of the trees and soon there would be a downpour.

‘Do you really have nothing to say?’

Tiny droplets were clinging to her hair, to her eyelashes as she stepped forward, one hand up on his chest. The rain became heavier and she shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. For another second he prayed she would deny it all, it was a terrible misunderstanding.

‘I don’t know what else to do,’ she whispered and he was unsure if she was crying or if it was the rain. Then, without warning, she turned and walked straight back up Mars Hill, head down, into the wind, the rain making her dress stick to her legs as she went. And he was left there, looking after her, seeing the girl he loved leave him.