Saturday morning, Erin and I had got up with the lark once more for our second antiques fair, this time in Swindon. After the disastrous speed dating evening a few days earlier, it felt good to get back to normality and forget the whole thing. The incident with the meringue man, as I had started to think of him, had left me shaken. I had never courted anyone in this modern era and frankly I never wanted to again if that’s what men were like in the twenty-first century. Where were the manners? The chivalry? The old-fashioned romance? All gone, like the snap in some of these youngsters’ knicker elastics.
I could well understand why Erin didn’t want to date anyone else in the future. In fact, if I were her, I’d probably resign myself to being single for the rest of my life. But then with a pang I thought of Luke. They weren’t all bad, in fact some of them were downright good. I pulled my new phone from the pocket of my mac and checked the calendar – 18th of May. In just four months’ time their baby would be here, and I would be a grandma! Just the thought of a new life coming into the world after so much heartache made me feel joyful, as did the revelation Erin had found an address for Jack.
If I was honest, after so many false starts, I didn’t think it would be possible to find him. I’d assumed that he, like Harry, might have died. I should have thought of Vera when we began to trace him. She was always a right old busybody, even when we were kids. Couldn’t keep her nose out of anyone else’s business. I remember how she had caught me and Jack canoodling, I suppose you’d call it, behind the pub at the end of our street. With her big round face and eyes filled with glee, you would have thought she was ogling a peep show not a pair of teenagers, young and in love. At the memory I felt a shiver. I could remember these strong, masculine arms wrapped around my waist pulling me so close I could feel the beat of his heart thrum against mine.
The sight of a customer smiling brightly at me while she held up a blue and white china vase brought me swiftly back to the present. As I deftly wrapped her antique and encouraged her to call again, I tried to push the memory of the last time I had seen Jack from my mind. It seemed as if it were just yesterday I had waved him off at the train station, doing my best not to shed a single tear.
‘I’ll write to you every day,’ Jack had promised, squeezing my hands tightly.
‘And I you,’ I had said desperately. ‘This won’t change anything, Jack, we’ll still talk to each other all the time, it will just be by letter that’s all.’
‘Course it will, my love,’ Jack had said, his tone fierce and determined. ‘You and me together forever, that’s all that matters.’
‘That’s all that matters,’ I’d echoed, unable to keep the tears at bay.
As they fell like rivers down my face I had allowed my gaze to roam across his, desperate to commit every one of his features to memory. The cleft at the end of his nose, the mole on his upper right cheek and the frown line that always appeared in the middle of his eyebrows when he was concentrating. I didn’t want him to go, the pain of it too brutal.
Seemingly Jack had understood and as his eyes locked onto mine, he’d gripped my hands even tighter then bent down and whispered in my ear, ‘You’re the love of my life, Lydia, it has and always will be you.’
With that the whistle for the train had blown and Jack had left without a backwards glance leaving me feeling bereft.
Now, I shook my head to return to the present and shoved my hands in my pockets to keep out the morning chill. What a silly little fool I had been. Of course I wouldn’t write every day, and neither would Jack, I thought crossly. We had been young, just as Jack had been when he wrote that letter to me just before I got married all those years ago.
With a start, I wondered if he had ever thought about that letter and if he did, had he dismissed writing it as the action of a silly child? After all that was what we had been really when all was said and done. What if he had never really loved me? What if he was grateful I had never replied? After all, he had married – what if he really did find his soul mate and I was nothing more than a teenage distraction? Then again, what if he had always loved me and never forgave me for marrying someone else and ignoring his letter? We had made promises to each other; what if he hadn’t dismissed them? I never had.
‘What on earth’s the matter with you?’ Erin asked, appearing behind me with a cup of tea in each hand.
I took the paper cup gratefully. ‘Just thinking.’
‘Well, don’t make a habit of it,’ Erin laughed, perching on the edge of the trestle table. ‘The look of horror on your face will frighten all our customers away.’
Sticking my tongue out at Erin, I sipped my tea. ‘I’ll have you know I’ve made three sales already while you were queuing for the drinks.’
Erin had the good grace to look impressed. ‘You’ve got the magic touch. Though I did think we’d be busier today.’
‘It’s early yet.’ I shrugged, looking at the few people roaming the field filled with stalls. ‘We might be out of bed at this hour, but not everyone else is.’
‘I suppose so,’ she sighed, looking dejected.
I wanted to laugh. The look on Erin’s face resembled Harry Enfield’s Kevin the Teenage character I used to enjoy watching on TV in the nineties. ‘While we’re quiet, why don’t we start writing a letter to Jack?’
‘Now?’
‘Why not? I don’t want to waste any more time, Erin,’ I said decisively. ‘I need to know the truth about that letter.’
‘I don’t have my iPad or laptop,’ she protested.
‘Oh my God! However will we manage?’ I gasped theatrically. ‘Oooh, I know, we could try using this very modern invention called a pen and paper, not sure if you’ve heard of it, but what you do—’
Erin held her hand up to stop me, ‘Yeah, all right, Lydia, I get the message. You know, sarcasm is the lowest form of wit?’
‘But the highest form of intelligence,’ I fired back, delving under the petty cash box for the notepad and pen I always carried with me. ‘Now enough of this chatter, how do you think we should start?’
‘How should I know?’ Erin replied, clearly still smarting. ‘You’re the one with all the intelligence, you figure it out.’
This time I couldn’t help it and roared with laughter. With her bottom lip stuck out and her head bent moodily over her slender frame she looked even more like Kevin. Yet catching the look of anger that quickly passed across her features, I wiped the smirk off my face.
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I was being silly.’
Erin glowered at me as she took the pad and paper from my hands. Setting her cup down, she took the lid from the biro and began to write.
‘What are you putting?’ I asked, my voice rising an octave in panic. ‘Don’t just write anything, this needs to be right.’
Erin shot me a look that would sour milk. ‘Lydia, would you just relax please? So far all I’ve put is your address, today’s date and the hallowed words, Dear Jack.’
‘Oh, all right.’ I replied mollified. ‘What do you think we should put next?’
‘Erm, how are you?’ Erin replied.
I made a face. ‘That sounds like I just saw him last week. You can’t start a letter to someone you haven’t seen in over fifty years with that. It needs to be more heartfelt.’
We fell into a silence then as we mulled over what to put next. I realised I hadn’t actually given much thought to what I’d say to Jack if or when we found him. The simple act of tracking him down seemed monumental enough, never mind what to say. I mean, what was the perfect way to say, hi there, sorry for such a delayed response, your letter arrived late, about fifty years too late and I’m still reeling from the discovery that you, love of my life as I considered you to be are actually still alive and not dead as I thought?
‘Maybe you should just be honest,’ Erin suggested, breaking the silence.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Tell him the truth about what happened,’ she said. ‘Sometimes there’s nothing like the truth.’
I took another gulp of tea, the morning chill still biting through to my bones before feeling sudden overwhelmed. ‘There’s so much to say I don’t know where to start,’ I wailed. ‘This letter will come as a complete shock anyway, I don’t want to give him a heart attack.’
‘No, good point.’ Erin nibbled on the end of the pen. ‘How about we leave it for now? We could just brainstorm instead.’
‘Oh, you mean scribble down ideas as they come to me?’ I asked, already liking the sound of that.
‘Exactly.’ Erin smiled. ‘You can’t expect to just dash something of this magnitude off in a heartbeat.’
‘True,’ I replied, just as my phone buzzed with a tone that I knew indicated a message.
I pulled it out of my pocket and looked at in alarm. It was another Facebook message from Erin’s mother. I felt a wave of guilt crash over me. I still hadn’t arranged a time to meet Rosie – I’d put the issue on pause. I hated keeping secrets from Erin, especially after we’d had such heated discussions lately over betrayal, but something told me this secret was for the greater good. If I could just hold my nerve, there was every chance I could reunite Erin with her family and all this guilt would be worth it. Still, I didn’t want to take the risk of reading the message in front of Erin.
‘Do you mind going to get us another cup of tea?’ I asked, quickly draining my cup. ‘I would go myself, but I’m expecting another trader who’s interested in some of those walking sticks to pop by at any moment and I don’t want to miss him.’
Erin looked at me suspiciously for a moment before responding. ‘All right. Just a tea?
‘Perhaps a teacake too if they have it,’ I called. ‘I’m getting a bit peckish.’
I waited until Erin had walked a few metres away before I risked taking the phone out of my pocket. Clicking onto the message, I was all set to read Rosie’s latest message, when I heard the sound of a man clearing his throat.
Glancing up, I saw a tall older man with a pretty short blonde standing next to him.
‘Is this the Simon and Garfunkel Antiques Brigade stall?’ he asked in plummy tones.
I nodded. ‘How can I help you?’
‘It’s actually Erin we’re here to see,’ the girl next to him piped up. ‘We’ve been trying to find her and saw from your Facebook post that she would be at the fair here today.’
I glanced from him to her, suddenly recognising them both. With her cheap smile and his sleazy gaze, the penny dropped. This was no ordinary couple; this was that bastard Brad and trumped-up little floozy Cara. For some reason my eyes were drawn to her hands, and it was then I caught sight of the rather vulgar diamond adorning the ring finger of her left hand.
I choked back the fury rising inside of me. Something told me why Cara had been trying to get hold of Erin so desperately, and I knew this would definitely be something she didn’t need or want to hear.