Going Home. Harriet Evans

       FIVE

      ‘Hello, Lizzy,’ he repeated.

      It had been such a long time since I’d seen him properly that I’d forgotten little things about him – the tiny scar next to his mouth, the hollow at the base of his neck. How dark his eyes were. I’d tried to remember all this so many times since he’d left, tried so hard to picture what it would be like to have him standing in front of me, and now that he was I almost wanted to laugh with the strange, strange shock of it all.

      ‘Sparkling conversationalists, aren’t we?’ he said, gazing into my eyes. ‘How are you?’

      ‘Fine,’ I said, pulling myself together. ‘When did you get back?’

      ‘The day before yesterday.’

      ‘From where?’ Of course I knew the answer to this but I wanted to sound as if his movements weren’t of the slightest interest to me.

      ‘Still New York.’

      ‘Going well, is it?’

      ‘Yes, thanks. I’ve seen your uncle Mike a couple of times.’

      ‘Good,’ I said briskly. ‘Well, give my love to—’

      ‘So, you’ve met your new aunt,’ said David. ‘That’s a turn-up for the books, isn’t it?’

      ‘What did you think?’

      ‘I think she’s nice.’

      ‘Yes, well,’ I said, glad we were keeping the conversation afloat, ‘I’m not sure about her, but she likes Some Like It Hot, so she can’t be all bad.’

      There was an awkward silence. Some Like It Hot was the film we had watched on the night before David left me. Sheesh, it’s a long story, I’ll get to it later.

      Tumbleweeds rolled casually by and a church bell tolled mournfully (no, it really did, we were outside the church) David frowned and stared at the gravelled path. People were drifting away – I think. Suddenly I couldn’t think of anything to say that didn’t involve talking about us.

      ‘How’s Miles? And your mum?’ I asked eventually.

      ‘Mum’s good, been working hard. Miles is fine, working hard too.’

      All the rest of the Eliots were accountants, which I imagined must make for captivating exchanges around the family hearth.

      ‘They’re over there,’ he said, pointing towards the lychgate. Miles raised his hand in a gesture of greeting. I looked to where my family was standing, staring at us intently, making no attempt to pretend they were thinking solemn thoughts at my uncle’s graveside. Rosalie even waved at David.

      Suddenly the spell was broken and I remembered that he’d left me at Heathrow last year on a beautiful spring day, promising to phone every day, to write letters, emails, texts, telegrams, poems, essays and doctorate papers about how much he loved me. I never considered that we might break up. I remembered how his lips felt when he kissed me.

      But as I looked at the man who had kissed me with those lips, I remembered he was also the man who, before the first month of our separation was over, had slept with someone else, then dumped me by email. Turns out it’s not such a long story after all. Breezy, be breezier than a sea breeze, I told myself as a wave of enormous sadness washed over me. ‘Well, glad to hear all’s well.’ I wrapped my scarf round my neck. ‘Happy Christmas, David.’ I allowed myself one last glance at him as I turned away. A fat wood-pigeon was cooing loudly in the yew trees skirting the churchyard.

      Abruptly, David reached out and grabbed my arm. ‘Tell Mike I’ll be in touch. How is he?’

      ‘Oh, you know, happy, successful, just closed a big deal, got married – so in quite a bad way, all in all,’ I said, with a feeble attempt at sarcasm.

      ‘I mean it. Tell him I’ll give him a call. There’s something I want to ask him.’ I felt the warmth of his hand on my arm. He looked at me intently and I could feel his breath on my cheek. ‘Don’t hate me, Lizzy,’ he said. ‘It’s not worth it any more.’

      ‘I don’t hate you,’ I whispered. ‘Let me go. I don’t want to see you again.’

      He released me at once, then caught hold of my hand. ‘I’m sorry. I just – I want to tell you something. I want you to know—’

      ‘No, David,’ I said. My face flamed. ‘I don’t want to do this again.’

      ‘I don’t see why not,’ he said. ‘I talked to Miles about it yesterday and I’ve never understood why you wouldn’t give me another chance.’

      ‘What?’ I said. My throat seemed to be closing up.

      ‘I made a mistake, but…Come on, Lizzy, isn’t it time you stopped being Miss High and Mighty about it?’

      ‘How dare you?’

      ‘You always do this!’ David said, raising his voice. He swallowed hard, trying to bring himself under control. ‘It’s always you who’s the one who’s hurt, who has to be at the centre of attention. Did you ever think about how it affected me? I just hoped you weren’t as selfish as I thought you were. But you were. And you still are.’

      Tears welled in my eyes, just as Kate and Alice Eliot appeared beside us. They greeted each other, in unison, as we glared at each other. ‘Well, I want to know something too,’ I said. ‘I want to know how you pulled Lisa in the first place. How soon was it after I’d gone? Or did you fix up a time to meet up for a quick fuck while I was still in the room?’ David’s mother looked totally shocked and she and Kate huddled together like the humble servants in Dangerous Liaisons, watching with trepidation from the sidelines.

      ‘I managed to persuade you, didn’t I?’ David said, eyes glittering with rage.

      ‘That’s true.’ I could have hit him. ‘But you certainly punished me for it, didn’t you?’

      David was white with fury. I’d never seen him look like that at me or anyone else. He swallowed, took a step back, and said, in a much calmer voice, ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. I know I was wrong, but you were too. And since you’ll probably never understand what you did, perhaps it’s best we leave it at that. Bye, Lizzy.’

      ‘You always have to have the last word, don’t you?’ I couldn’t put my gloves on, my hands were shaking so badly. ‘I know you better than you think. Goodbye, David.’ (Please note this shows I, in fact, had the last word.)

      As I walked towards Tony’s grave I could feel David’s eyes on my back, and had to cling to Kate’s arm to stop myself running back and either stabbing him with a nearby icicle or throwing myself into his arms. I couldn’t help it. I’d tried to stop feeling this way for nine months but suddenly the gates were open again and I felt totally miserable but incredibly happy because I’d seen him again.

      I shook my head involuntarily and murmured, ‘No’ and Kate put her arm round me. ‘You are bonkers, aren’t you, darling? Never mind, we’re going home soon and you don’t have to see him ever again.’

      ‘I know,’ I said quietly. ‘But I want to.’ We were almost at Tony’s grave. ‘Was it ever like this with you two, Kate?’

      Kate set her jaw in a firm line. ‘Erm – no.’ She bit her lip. ‘We were never apart from the moment we met.’ She smiled at the memory of the husband she had married when she was a slip of a girl and whom she had had every right to expect would be around for the rest of her life, not taken away from her when she wasn’t even thirty and had a small child.

      I