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‘That’s kind, thank you, Mina.’ Liz squeezed the woman’s hand. ‘Don’t apologise. This has been going on for months. I guess I just couldn’t hold it in anymore.’
‘Hmm. Holding in emotions never works.’ Mina shook her head. ‘I tell the kids this all the time. If you’re sad, cry. If you’re happy, laugh. If you have worries, tell Mummy. Very simple.’
‘It is. You’re right,’ Liz sighed. ‘I’m going to try and feel my feelings a little more from now on. Ideally, not in the middle of crochet circle every week, though,’ she chuckled, ruefully.
‘Ah, we don’t mind. What else have we got to do?’ Mina grinned. ‘You can come here and cry every week for a year if you like, Liz. I won’t mind.’
‘You might regret saying that,’ Liz warned. ‘And my crochet so far is atrocious. Look at that!’ She held out her mangled wool on the hook.
‘Never.’ Mina tutted. ‘Anyway, here’s Bess with your tea. Drink up.’ She took Liz’s crochet from her and started to unravel it. ‘Here. We’ll start again, and it will be much better.’
‘Crochet’s a bit like life,’ Kathy said, taking a bite of a large, fruit-laden flapjack. ‘Sometimes it all goes to crap and looks a mess. But you can usually unravel it and start again.’
Liz smiled.
‘I can see that.’ She took a drink of tea, and felt it fortify her. She didn’t know if she’d ever end up crocheting anything worth looking at, but she’d give it a try. Making a new start in Loch Cameron was also worth sticking at – especially now that she’d found the crochet coven. For a long time, IVF had controlled Liz’s life, but now she felt like she was taking her life back, little by little. And if that meant taking some time out for a little crochet, cake and gossip now and again, then so be it. It had been a long time since she’d been a part of a group like this, and she realised, now, that she’d missed it.
TWENTY
Liz was in her office, reviewing her predecessor’s sales reports again, when her phone rang. She tended to use the voice command when she was working, and had her phone set up to go straight to loudspeaker.
‘Liz? It’s Paul.’
For some moments, Liz couldn’t reply. It felt as though all the air had been pushed out of her lungs. She stared mutely at the phone screen, where his name showed alongside the photo she’d taken, two years ago. It was – had been – one of her favourites. Paul had taken her on a surprise trip to Lapland at Christmas: the photo showed him in a red knitted hat, smiling softly into the camera. She’d forgotten to take the picture off his contact on her phone.
‘Paul?’ she stammered. ‘What… why are you calling me?’ His voice was so familiar, and yet so alien, because Liz had never expected to hear it again.
‘I wanted to see if you were okay,’ Paul replied. There was a silence, as Liz’s heart hammered in her chest. ‘I… I miss you.’
He had always had a voice that pulled her in. It had a certain timbre, a quality about it that she couldn’t describe, but had always made her feel both protected and happy, like all was right with the world whenever Paul spoke to her.
‘If I’m okay?’ Liz stammered.
‘Yeah. I’m sorry if it’s not a good time. I was just thinking of you, and—’
‘Why are you calling me?’ Liz interrupted him. Her initial dismay had been taken over by a rising anger. This was the man who had walked out on her as she sat on the sofa, crying. For as much as he knew, she might have been pregnant in that moment. She hadn’t been, but who did that? Paul had broken her heart and now, here he was, calling her out of the blue because he’d been “thinking of her”?
‘I wondered if I could come and see you. And talk.’
‘You want to talk to me. About what?’ Liz snapped. She was glad she was angry. Anger was better than bewildered and weeping.
‘About us. I should never have walked out on you,’ he said. His voice was as effective as it had always been; Liz could feel herself responding to it. Despite her anger, despite the hurt he had caused her, Liz yearned to be in his arms. That was where she had always felt most at home.
‘No. You shouldn’t,’ she snapped, again.
‘I know.’ He sounded so sad that, even though she was angry, it made her heart ache. You didn’t spend years of your life loving someone and then just turn off your feelings like a switch. Or, at least, Liz didn’t. She couldn’t. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Well, thanks for the apology, I suppose.’ She made herself sound frosty. It was easier that way: Liz would be mortified if Paul knew how she was really feeling.
‘I shouldn’t have left, that day,’ he added, hastily, as if he thought she was going to hang up. ‘But I didn’t know what else to do. I meant what I said, about the IVF. But I handled it all wrong.’
‘Paul. You left. I haven’t heard from you. I’ve moved. I’ve…’ She broke off, feeling tears rise up in her throat. ‘I’ve… changed my life. You can’t just call me, and—’
‘I know. Look, Liz. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t do it anymore. It was too hard,’ he sighed. ‘But I still have feelings for you. I just want to see you, and talk. Is that possible?’
Was it possible? Liz didn’t know. Part of her was desperate to see him again. But she shook her head.
‘I don’t think so.’
