Emily woke late. Sundays were always lazy, whether she worked Saturdays or not. She made herself a cup of coffee and slumped on the sofa, watching television. The programmes were a mix of cartoons, programmes from churches, and horse racing. She watched the horse racing without paying attention, sipping her coffee, and her thoughts slipped without trying to Robin. The form and going from Aintree became greyer and less real compared to the fantasy of him. It was easy, even effortless, to drift into those thoughts with the cool lightness of hope, the hope that they wouldn’t be the only memories, that this was the beginning of something.
She lay down on the settee and closed her eyes.
She wanted to sleep more, to enjoy the absence of a need to be anywhere, but she had to shower and dress before Blake came to pick her up. She sat up and breathed in slowly and deeply. Daylight came through the net curtains in her living room weak and grey, showing the uneven paving stones and straggling plants of the tiny back garden. An old tree, too large for the space, was growing hard and powdered brown out from the red brick and ivy of the wall.
Emily stood up and opened the patio door and looked up at the sky. The clouds were high and white but heavy, and the outside air was damp and cool. She sighed and turned inside to shower.
She walked across the kitchen floor before she was fully dry, with a towel wrapped around her, into her bedroom. She dressed quickly and with no real thought, pulling on a pair of jeans, a light shirt, and an old yellow cashmere jumper. She had long dropped the habit of dressing up for meetings with Blake. She put on her absolute minimum of mascara and a little lipstick, and went into the kitchen to make herself another coffee before twelve o’clock.
There was nothing of David’s in the flat. After he left she donated a lot of his clothes to the charity shops and threw the rest away, stripping their small terraced house of the things that he loved. She brought only the bare minimum of her own belongings to the flat, but there was one photograph she had kept because it was from one of her happiest times, with David or not. Just after they returned from their honeymoon the pair of them had gone down to stay with his parents in Torquay, and the photograph showed David and Emily laughing, his arms around her waist as she leant back on him. His parents, who Emily took a great liking to, smiled on. They were all sat at a table on the outside terrace of a cafe, and the photo had been taken by one of the waitresses. The picture hung in a cheap black wooden frame on the wall in the kitchen. Emily glanced at it each morning before she left for work, consciously or unconsciously, and some mornings it was a prickly reminder of the pain of his betrayal, but on others she felt a spark of joy that she had ever been that happy, no matter what David had gone on to do. Now she stood, hands on the countertop behind her, staring through both the glass and the people sitting at the table.
A car horn sounded in the street. She unhurriedly got her bag together, her mobile phone, her purse and keys, and left the flat.
Blake’s car was roomy and Emily stretched her legs out as they left the north of the town. It was an old BMW, its shape prowling and forward-leaning. He brought it to a stop at a large grassed roundabout and turned to her as the traffic wheeled past.
“Are you okay, Emily? You seem awfully quiet. If you’re not well we can do this another time.”
His face was concerned, emotional. His brow furrowed underneath his hair, which was curled and jet black. For the first time it occurred to Emily that it had to be dyed, and his concern was not touching her as it used to. His clothes, which before looked to be those of a charmingly distracted bachelor, suddenly seemed scruffy.
“I’m fine, Blake, really. I just didn’t sleep too well.”
“Poor thing.” He reached over and punched her softly on the knee. “A glass or two of the red stuff’ll pep you up, I’m sure of it.”
He put the car in gear and pulled away around the roundabout and accelerated down the hill to where a small stream passed under the road. Emily didn’t answer him, but smiled and watched the trees go by. They drove in silence for a while, with the chatter and adverts of local radio station drifting gently between them.
“I’ve been looking forward to this all week,” said Blake. “There’s something about the food at this place. It just doesn’t get any better for pub grub.”
“It’s a good restaurant,” said Emily.
“Yes, but it’s not a bad pub, either, is it? It’s rare to get both. Certainly around here.”
“It’s a bit out of the way.”
“I supppose. I never think of it that way. You should get yourself a car, you know. You must have a bit put aside from the divorce,” said Blake.
“Why do I need a car? I live ten minutes’ walk from where I work,” said Emily.
“Well, just for the good it’ll do you. You could go shopping in Coventry, or visit friends. Just the power to get yourself about. It’d do you good.”
“Most of my friends are in Leamington, and if I want to go shopping in Coventry, I can take the bus.” Emily was indignant.
“Okay Em, it was just a suggestion.” He flicked a glance across at her. “ Sure you’re okay?”
“Yes!”
She had not meant to snap at him.
“Sorry. I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s okay.”
He continued to drive in silence, looking only at the road ahead, until they pulled into a chalky gravel car park, and found a space between a Range Rover and a small, dusty black sports car. Blake turned off the engine.
“I don’t want to annoy you, Ems, but if you don’t fancy doing lunch I can take you home. I only asked because I thought you’d enjoy it.”
“It’s okay, I will.”
“All right. Let’s go in. We’re late.”
It was quiet. The Cricketers was away from the main road and as Emily and Blake walked through the beer garden, the only sound was the rolling crunch of the gravel as another car pulled away.
The darkness inside the pub took a moment to adjust to, and the smell of cigarette smoke and beer and food was warm and strong and musty. There was a rolling murmur of conversation and laughter in the bar, and the carpet underneath Emily’s feet was soft and the furnishings and brasses on the walls were homely.
A waitress approached them and Blake put his hand on the small of her back as he gave his name and it made her feel uncomfortable.
There was a little coldness in the air. Mike and Robin were kicking a football around in the park by the river and it was the middle of the afternoon on Sunday. There were not many people around. A couple were sitting and kissing on the fence bars around the bandstand, and Mike and Robin slowly moved their game away. Mike hit the ball hard and Robin was too late diving for it and it sped past him.
“You can get that,” said Robin, getting up.
“Stuff that! You missed the save. That was a great goal,” said Mike.
“Fuck,” said Robin under his breath, and trotted after the ball.
An old man walking an elderly red setter kicked it stiffly back to him.
“Thanks!” called Robin, picking up the ball. He turned to Mike.
“Want to call that it?” he said.
“Yeah, okay.”
Mike stooped to pick the jackets off the ground and walked, out of breath, to Robin, who stood with the ball on his hip.
“You reckon you’ll be able to go to any matches when you’re in Italy?” asked Mike.
“I don’t know. Might get a bit damp around where I’m staying.”
“Ha bloody ha. What’s the local team?”
“I don’t know. I’ll look it up.”
Mike nodded, swallowing. They began to walk home. The pale green branches of the weeping willows on the riverbank moved gently in the breeze.
“How are you feeling about the year?” asked Robin.
“Nervous, mate. Pretty nervous.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Mike was looking ahead as they walked.
“I’m sure you’ll be all right,” said Robin.
“Yeah, well. I feel like I only got through last year by the skin of my teeth.”
“You did pretty well. You got a 2:2, right?”
“Only just,” said Mike, shaking his head. “And I worked really hard for that. I just don’t get a lot of the stuff, you know? It’s like none of it’s real, and I find it really hard to even like, be interested.”
“Well, you’ve got me. I don’t even understand what the titles of your courses mean.”
“Right,” said Mike.
“Why did you pick your course, anyway? Ever since the first year I’ve felt that you secretly don’t like it.”
“Secretly! Well, I don’t know,” said Mike. “It was the only thing I got a decent grade in at A-Level. I thought to myself, well, if I can only do Physics, I might as well do Physics.”
“I’m nervous,” said Robin. “I don’t know how things are going to pan out this year at all, and everything we’ve done rests on it. Like, everything. I just want to get started.”
Mike looked at Robin and laughed.
“That’s where you and I differ. I just want to stay on holiday. I’m sure you’ll be fine. I don’t know anyone who works as hard as you. Not even the biochemists.”
The two of them crossed the bridge, and Mike stopped outside the It’s A Scream pub.
“Fancy one? I know I’m not going to be able to tempt you once lectures start.”
“What, and undo all the good we just did by running around like idiots for an hour? Why not? It’s not like term starts until tomorrow.”
Emily didn’t want to drink too much after the wine the night before, but something about the way she was feeling made her nervous and when she was nervous she compulsively reached for her glass. Blake pretended not to notice, but after two drinks at the bar, they sat down to eat and he ordered a bottle of the house red, even though he himself was not drinking. They chose their food, and Blake meshed his fingers on the table.
“I’ve been promoted,” he said.
“Oh, Blake, that’s wonderful,” said Emily, and reached out and squeezed his hands. “Well done.”
She could hear the flatness in her own voice.
“Thanks. It means a lot more money, and I’m going to be travelling around the county a lot as well, to the other plants, overseeing the implementation of the new operation methods. I won’t be in town for quite so many evenings a week, so we’ll have to ration going out.”
“That’s brilliant Blake, really.”
He looked at her with his head cocked slightly to one side, as though he was trying to figure something out.
“Are you seeing anyone new?” he asked.
“Why?”
“I’m just asking. You seem different. And quiet. Like you want to be alone with your thoughts and I’m intruding.”
“I’m sorry,” said Emily quietly, at the same time thinking that she was not. “I might be. I met someone on Friday night.”
“Really? Do tell.”
Blake edged forwards, eager to listen, and his mouth was curved in a smile, but Emily did not want to talk to him about it.
“No, it’s okay.”
“Oh, come on, Emily! You can’t just give me a lead-on like that and expect me to drop everything! What happened? What’s he like?”
Emily paused, looking into his eyes which were much closer and more intent now that he was leaning towards her across the table.
“No, Blake. I said. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Come on! Let’s hear-”
“No, Blake. I can’t sit here another time and let you rattle through your sympathetic friend routine. It makes me uncomfortable. I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t want to talk about it with you. I’d just rather leave it.”
Blake leaned back into his chair and took his hands off the table.
“Well-” he started.
“I’m sorry,” Emily reached across the table, “I just don’t want to jinx it.”
She did not want to talk to Blake about Robin because it felt wrong. Not because of Robin, but because of Blake.
He took Emily’s outstretched hand, and she took a sip of wine with the other.
“That’s okay babe. That’s okay,” said Blake.
Emily stopped drinking wine with the meal after that.
After getting back home from the pub, Robin called the number Emily had given him. There was no answer, so he left a message.
Monday morning was hard for Emily. She was not tired, nor was she hungover, but she did not want to wake up. She showered and dressed for work without thinking about what she was doing.
She was the first to arrive outside the chemist, and she stood waiting in the lee of the doorway, watching the cars go up and down The Parade. An empty bus went by, and when she turned, Sarah and Tina were walking towards her, and both of them were grinning.
“Hi!” they chorused.
“Hi, Sarah, Tina. How are you?” said Emily. Her stomach was tight and she was smiling without it reaching her eyes. The girls did not react.
“Oh my God? How am I? How are you?” laughed Tina. “The last we saw you were disappearing off into a dark corner with a student.”
“I’m okay, thanks.”’
“I’ll bet! Are you keeping him?” said Sarah.
Sarah and Tina had been working at the chemist’s on The Parade for years before Emily started there. They were both in their late twenties and knew each other from school. Sarah was plump and red headed, and lived with her boyfriend and two children in a flat in a different area of North Leamington to Emily. She had three earrings in each ear, and when she spoke quickly or excitedly you could see the stud in her tongue. Tina was smaller but louder and more coarse, with mousy brown hair and only two earrings. She was single, and shared a house with people Emily had never met somewhere near The Parade. Both Sarah and Tina were in their late twenties, and since David left, they had become her best friends.
“I quite fancy a toyboy myself,” said Tina.
“Surely you need a boyfriend first?” said Emily.
“Ooh, catty,” grinned Sarah. “Today isn’t going to be at all bad, as Mondays go.”
“How was Saturday?” asked Emily, desperate to change the subject.
“Busy, but okay,” said Tina.
Emily nodded.
The owner, a short Asian man with thick rimmed National Health glasses called Mr. Taylor, turned around the corner and gave the three of them a curt greeting before opening the doors. The morning passed quickly, as Monday mornings always did, with restocking and reordering after the weekend’s business. Whenever they were all behind the counter at the same time, Tina and Sarah kept pressing her about Friday night.
“Did you even find out his name?”
“Of course,” said Emily, sorting boxes in a storage cupboard, and rankled for the first time.
“In the morning?” asked Tina, pushing her tongue into her cheek and winking.
Emily stood up.
“Yes, if you must know, we went back to my flat.”
“Oooh, brilliant! How was it?”
The look of genuine interest on Tina’s face softened Emily’s feeling of being attacked for her actions.
“It was...he was, well, lovely, actually.”
“Ah, great! It does you good, huh?” said Tina.
An old woman with a purple knitted hat and a long brown coat was trying to attract Tina’s attention, so she was whispering.
“One night things might not be pretty afterwards, but it’s great sometimes, right? You must be right pepped up.”
“I don’t know,” said Emily.
“Can I help you?” asked Tina to the old woman.
Emily picked up a box and walked hurriedly away into the shop.
During her lunch hour Emily read the Daily Mirror alone in the tiny staffroom above the shop. They each took lunch alone so as not to abandon the shop floor, but Emily didn’t mind. It was good to have a period of quiet in the middle of the day. It was the first day it was too cold to eat in the park. As she ate she thought of the message Robin had left on her machine. She had listened to his voice haltingly work through what sounded like insincere banalities - he had a great time, he hoped that she was okay, that he was just calling, like he said he would - and then his voice changed, a shift in tone and earnestness, when he said he hoped he could see her again soon and he left his telephone number before hanging up.
After she finished her sandwich Emily stared out of the window down the Parade at the lunchtime bustle, and pulled out her mobile phone and sent Robin a message.
