An elderly man was just about to lower himself onto the other end of the bench until Lydia said ‘no’ and explained about the bird poo.
‘Here, have these seats.’ She stood up. ‘We’re off for a walk anyway.’ Somehow she suspected it’d be easier to talk to Connor if they walked side by side and he couldn’t just turn in his seat and stare at her.
They walked along, finishing their sandwiches and depositing the rubbish into a nearby bin. They talked some more about Bath and how Connor had grown up in Surrey until his parents had relocated and they talked about siblings, university days, and Connor’s job. When they came to the café Connor bought two cans of Coke and they took them outside to sit at a table and soak up the sunshine.
‘On days like this I want to go back to work even less.’ He lounged back in his chair, face tilted to the sun. ‘Cooped up in an office doing something tedious when you could be outside is just wrong.’
‘No wonder you have such a good tan. Is this what you do every lunchtime?’
‘Pretty much, when it’s nice weather. I’ve never been one to eat lunch at my desk, can’t stand it. When I was working as a vet I’d always take a walk, rain or shine, and eat my sandwich on the move.’
‘I sometimes eat at my desk for speed.’
‘It’s not healthy.’ He smiled though and now the sun had moved and their table was partly shaded, he put his sunglasses on top of his head. ‘What about hobbies? You must have some of those.’
She felt like she was about to get a grilling as though this were a speed date and he was about to decide whether he’d like to contact her again.
‘I like dancing.’
‘Yeah? What sort of dancing? It doesn’t involve a pole, does it?’
‘Cheeky git!’ She punched his arm playfully. ‘I’m a contemporary dancer.’
‘I’ll show my ignorance now, what exactly is contemporary dance?’
‘It’s a mixture of a few disciplines from classical ballet to jazz and modern. It’s more free flowing and expressive. I started out, like all little girls, doing ballet but I don’t really have the build for it. I reached grade three and I’d had enough. I moved on to jazz, which I loved, and I did a bit of tap and then the dance school I went to started up its first contemporary class and I was hooked.’
‘How often do you go?’
‘I used to go all the time.’ She smiled, the warm sun on her back, and sipped her Coke. ‘At university, when exam stress was getting to me I’d head down to the dance studio. I carried on in London when I was working as a journalist and took part in a couple of concerts, and then it was great to be able to dance most days when I was freelancing from home.’
His blue eyes were trained on her and she knew what he was going to say. ‘How often do you gonow?’
She looked back at him, and in an effort to hide any telltale signs she pulled her shades over her eyes. ‘I’m busier now.’ She looked at her watch but didn’t register the time. ‘Speaking of which, I’d better get back or Ian will be on the warpath.’
Connor put a hand on her arm. ‘I’m not stupid. There’s something you’re not telling me.’ He tugged a hand through his hair as realisation seemed to hit. ‘I’m so stupid. You’re with someone, aren’t you? That’s why you ran off from the pub that night after I kissed you, and that’s who you spend all your time with.’ He patted the table with both hands and stood up. ‘I think that’s my cue to leave.’
‘Connor, wait.’
Without malice he told her, ‘Don’t worry about it, Lydia. It’s fine, it’s life.’
Before he could walk away, she moved in front of him and blocked his escape. The night they’d kissed she never would’ve uttered a word about Theo, but since the last week when she’d really hit rock-bottom, or lower if it was possible, she felt differently. She didn’t fall apart when she thought about Theo now, she didn’t bawl her eyes out trying to explain to anyone that there was no change and that she blamed herself for prolonging the agony he must surely be in, if not physically, perhaps mentally. I mean, nobody knew, did they? Nobody knew what patients in a coma or vegetative state could hear, sense or feel. Not for certain.
‘I need to tell you the truth, Connor.’ She had a hand on his forearm, warm from the sunshine above them.
‘Lydia, we barely know each other. You don’t owe me any explanations at all.’ His kind smile confirmed it. It was time to tell him.
‘Please. I’ll buy you a slice of that monstrous chocolate cake you were eyeing up inside if you’ll just give me ten minutes of your time to tell you everything.’
His smile was back. ‘You’ve got yourself a deal.’
And over a slice of cake Connor insisted he share with Lydia, she told him everything. Just the same as she’d told Ian except with a hell of a lot more control and maturity and without any tears. And even though she was so late back to work she missed a meeting, it had been worth it.
*
By September, Lydia was beginning to believe the saying that time heals all wounds. Last December she would’ve claimed it was a load of rubbish, but since meeting up with Connor three months ago, and her admissions about Theo, it was as though her mind had managed to untangle the mess it had got into since the accident and she was starting to move forwards.
Connor and Lydia began meeting up once a week for lunch. The weather was changeable now they were into September, but if it was sunny they went to the park and if it was raining they found a café nearby and talked over bowls of soup and hot cups of tea or coffee. She hadn’t spoken to Ian about Theo again but Connor became a good friend and he often asked after him. And strangely, they hadn’t kissed since that very first time. Whether he was afraid to now he knew her situation, Lydia had no idea. But their friendship was strong and for that she was grateful. It was a different friendship to her one with Sally. Sally knew all her history, she and Connor were still getting to know one another, and being a man he didn’t get overly sympathetic if she was feeling down. He was more likely to clip her around the ear and tell her to pick herself up and carry on; and his original approach, compared to other people who watched what they said around her, was refreshing and helpful in its own peculiar way.
