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Paul had taken their drinks to a table, and hung his scarf on the back of his chair. Liz sat down opposite him in a leather wing chair and looked at him, not knowing what to say.
‘Well. Here we are,’ Paul said, nervously. He’d ordered a soft drink, by the looks of things. ‘I’m driving,’ he explained, seeing her look at his glass of sparkling water.
‘It’s a long drive from Glasgow,’ Liz said, surprised. In fact, she hadn’t thought about how Paul was going to get here. She’d been completely consumed by the thought of what she was going to do and say when she saw him. In fact, she still didn’t know.
‘Not so bad. Worth it to see you.’ He smiled and took a sip of his drink. Liz’s stomach flipped, but it wasn’t a comfortable feeling. Part of her was over the moon to see Paul again. But another part of her felt chaotic and unbalanced. ‘This is a really sweet little village. I can see why you came here.’
I came here to get away from everything in my old life. And that included you, Liz thought.I’m happy here. I’ve started to find myself again.
‘Yes, it’s peaceful,’ she said, instead. ‘I’ve joined a crochet club.’
‘Oh, that sounds nice.’ Paul’s smile widened. ‘I can’t imagine you doing something as girly as crocheting. You should do more of that kind of thing.’
‘I do enjoy it,’ Liz admitted. ‘More for the social element than the actual crochet. I just go one lunchtime a week.’
‘Ha. Gossip and crochet, is it? I can just imagine,’ Paul chuckled. ‘We should have toured around these little villages more. Maybe we could have even moved to one of them, and you could spend your life crocheting and baking cakes for me, and I could be a regular at a pub like this. Play darts, watch the football.’ He looked around him at the little snug and its cosy, wood-panelled décor hung with prints of men on horseback, and portraits of ladies in ball dresses. ‘Sadly, we never seemed to get the time.’
‘No, we didn’t.’ Liz frowned, thinking that she had absolutely no desire to spend the rest of her life baking cakes for Paul while he was propping up the bar somewhere. ‘But that wasn’t all my fault. You work too. Your job’s just as demanding as mine.’
‘I wasn’t pointing the finger.’ He gave her an unreadable look. ‘I think, over time, we just morphed into this couple that had one focus. And it ate up all of our quality time together, where we could have enjoyed little weekends in cosy inns. IVF destroyed us, Liz. You have to admit that.’
‘Paul. I don’t want to talk about that,’ Liz protested. ‘If you came here just to repeat everything you’ve already said, I’m not interested. I get it, okay? You didn’t want to do that anymore, and you left.’ She heard the emotion catch in her voice and hated herself for it. She didn’t want to cry in front of Paul again. She didn’t want to relive everything that happened with him.
‘Liz, I’m sorry. That’s not why I’m here.’ He reached for her hand across the table, and she looked up, surprised at his touch. ‘I didn’t want to upset you.’
‘Why are you here, then?’ Part of her wanted to hold his hand, but she pulled it away nonetheless. It was too much, right now, having his familiar hand in hers. She knew his touch so well; the way that his thumb nestled into her palm when he held her hand. The warmth of his skin, and the black hairs on the back of his hand she always teased him about. He was one of those men who, if he didn’t have a beard, he’d have to shave twice a day. He had a hairy chest and back, like a bear. She’d always liked it.
Beauty and the Beast, he’d always said.That’s us.
But they weren’t Beauty and the Beast anymore. Because life wasn’t a fairy tale, and the Beast had broken her heart.
Liz took a sip of her glass of wine, which was sweet and full bodied, and helped settle her nerves a little.
‘Straight to the point, huh. Just like always,’ Paul sighed. ‘I told you. I miss you, Liz. I wanted to see you. Check you were okay.’
‘You’ve seen me, then. I’m alive. I’m okay.’ She put down her glass and gave him a look. ‘Now what?’
‘Liz… please don’t be like that.’
‘Like what? You broke my heart, Paul. And now you turn up here, in the village where I came to get away from all of that. You. The IVF. Everything…’ She didn’t know whether to yell or cry. ‘Please don’t do this to me. I’ve just started to move on.’
‘Do what? Liz, I…’ he sighed. ‘I just—’
‘You just what?’
‘I… I want you. I miss you.’ He sighed, and looked down at the table. ‘This couple of months has been agony. I think I want you back.’
‘You want me back?’ Liz almost choked on her wine and put the glass down hurriedly. She coughed, clearing her throat.
‘Oh, God. I’m sorry.’ He stood up and came to rub her back. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing. I just know that I’ve been miserable without you.’
Instinctively, Liz leaned back into Paul’s touch. It was another thing he’d often done for her when she was upset, rubbed her back in soft, circular motion. She started to cry, just a little, knowing that they were in a public place, but unable to stop herself.
‘Oh, Liz. Hey. Come on now.’ Paul knelt down next to her chair and enveloped her in his strong arms. ‘Hey. I’m here. I’ve got you,’ his voice murmured, and Liz was overtaken by the familiar scent of him: his natural bearish warmth and the cedar-scented soap he favoured. She’d found it for him, years ago, and she’d always ordered it in for him so he had enough, stacked up neatly in his cupboard in their shared bathroom. She wondered if he’d run out yet, and felt an aching sadness once again. He wasn’t hers anymore. She didn’t have to do that for him now.
‘Paul. Please.’ She pulled away from his arms. ‘This is too hard. I can’t just turn it all back on for you. You know how much you hurt me when you left. And I’ve changed.’
