Page 138 of Secret Paths

Sometimes she is looking back.

Not by accident.

By the time the crowd begins to thin, the light has softened over St Claire. Tables are being folded. Children are being coaxed into coats. The bunting lifts and falls in the breeze, damp at the edges, and the air smells of wet grass, sugar and smoke from the brazier near the tea tent.

I reach for a tray, but Ed takes it from me.

“I’ve got this,” he says.

“I can help clear down.”

“Hunter is sending some staff over to clear away now the meal has been served at the wedding.” He glances towards the raffle stall. “Go on.”

I look across the green.

Mandy is standing beside Alexandra, holding a cardboard box against her hip. Her hair has loosened in the wind, and one side of her coat collar has turned up. She looks like herself. Tired, sharp, soft in the places she pretends not to be.

“Thanks,” I say.

Ed only nods and starts stacking bowls.

I take off the apron, fold it badly and leave it on the table. Then I walk across the grass.

Alexandra sees me first.

Her face brightens with the sort of delight that should probably be licensed.

“I am being normal,” she says before I can speak.

“No one accused you of anything.”

Mandy looks at me. “Are you finished?”

“Ed released me.”

“How generous.”

Alexandra opens her mouth.

Mandy points at her. “No.”

Alexandra closes it again, but only just.

I hold out my hand. “Walk with me?”

Mandy looks at my hand.

The pause is small.

Then she puts her hand in mine.

Alexandra makes a sound that begins somewhere between joy and injury.

Mandy does not let go.

We walk away from the raffle table.

For the first few steps, I am aware of everything. The give of the grass beneath my boots. The warmth of her palm. The slight stiffness in her fingers before they settle properly between mine. The people noticing and pretending not to notice.