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He shakes his head but can think of nothing to say.
‘Oh, and here comes the silent treatment,’ she says. ‘I’m getting all your greatest hits.’
‘I’m sorry, I—’
‘Please tell me Tommy wasn’t the only reason you wanted to meet me.’
He makes himself look up, expects to see her features twisted in spite, but her eyes are brimming, and when she speaks again, her voice trembles.
‘Please, Sam. Tell me you wanted to see me. Give me that at least.’
‘Oh God,’ he says. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you, Nomes. Of course it’s not just about the… It really was good to see you the other day. I mean, I did miss you. During lockdown.’
‘But you never contacted me. Not once. Not even a text to see how I was. Nothing.’
‘But… but that would’ve been confusing, wouldn’t it? I was trying to be clear. To behave clearly, that’s all. So you could, y’know, move on. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. You must know that.’
She sniffs, sighs, shakes her head. ‘I’m still a bit raw. It’s been a lot. You have no idea what I’ve been through.’
His breath shudders from him. ‘I really am sorry. I guess I got carried away with the idea, that’s all. The baby, I mean. I shouldn’t have got my hopes up. I wouldn’t have got my hopes up if I hadn’t wanted to see you again, would I?’
She stands abruptly. ‘Actually, I’m just… I need the toilet.’
‘Sure.’
Head bowed low, wiping at her face, she walks into the pub. Immediately he plunges his face into his hands, swearing over and over under his breath. She has had to get away from him to compose herself. He is a pillock. A twit. A moron.
Outside, a bus whistles past, back towards Lyme. He should go. There is nothing here for him, not now that he has added insult to injury. Classic Sam, she said. And she was right. Well done, mate.
Minutes pass. He takes a chip. It is barely warm, almost cold. He pushes the bowl away. Thinks about putting a log on the fire but doesn’t. Wonders about knocking on the loo door, calling to her to ask if she’s OK. But doesn’t. Instead, he waits, hands clasped between his thighs for warmth.
‘Sam.’ Naomi is back. She is sitting down. Her face is red, her eye make-up all but washed off. She is chewing the inside of her mouth. Her eyes flick towards his, down to the table. She drains her glass. Appears to take a deep breath, blows it out like exasperation itself.
‘Are you OK?’ he asks. ‘I really am so sorry.’
‘I didn’t bring Toms today.’ She opens her watery eyes, meets his gaze for a second, closes them again. ‘I left him at home.’
‘What do you mean, left him? Isn’t he with his mother?’
‘No,’ she whispers, shakes her head. Her eyes are open now, but she is looking past him towards the brazier. The courtyard has filled a little since they got here. From inside the pub drifts the smell of roasting meat.
‘But you said—’
‘I said he was at home. But he’s not with his mum, he’s with my sister.’ She is still staring into the grate, her eyes flickering. She turns to meet his gaze. ‘Look, I didn’t bring him because I wanted to see what you… I suppose I hoped you’d want to see me, you know, forme. Forus. I hoped…’ She shakes her head. ‘Doesn’t matter. I’ve been a… I feel like a complete lemon.’ Her bottom lip trembles; her eyes fill. She looks away and quite suddenly slaps herself on the forehead once, twice.
Panicking, he reaches for her hand, but she withdraws it.
‘Please,’ he says. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. Of course I don’t think you’d do something like that. I was just blinded by… Look, I’m sorry. Forget I said it.’
‘No.’ She shakes her head, causing a tear to escape down each cheek. The urge to dry them with the paper napkin is almost overpowering, but he makes himself stay still. He has the sense that nothing she has said so far is true, that as ever, it has all been a test, which he has failed. She seems to be talking in circles.
‘I did want to see you,’ he says quietly. ‘We were together a long time. I never stopped caring about you, I just… we just… we drove each other nuts – you know we did.’
‘Stop. Don’t say anything else. It’s not your fault. Not all of it anyway. I got my hopes up, just like you did, only my hopes were… I mean, I’m the idiot, because it’s not to be. But for once, you actually got it right.’
The hairs on his forearm lift. ‘What are you saying?’ He knows what she’s saying, somewhere, the meaning pushing through his veins, pushing, pushing, towards his heart.
She reaches for the napkin and presses it to her eyes. When she lowers it, finally, she fixes him with her dark stare, and when she speaks, her words land slowly, as a dream clarifies in the moments after waking.
