Claire gasped in the mirror, then opened the front door of the car and, holding herself carefully, got up and out of the car on her own.
“Richard?” she said.
- - -
She wouldn’t have guessed it in a million years. She stared at him, completely dumbfounded.
“Richard,” she said again.
It sometimes felt to her like he had hardly changed a bit, was still the awkward boy with the clarinet case and the brown horn-rimmed glasses. His glasses were still horn-rimmed, but she’d always liked the style, so he’d never changed it. He’d kept his hair, and having a new wife and a stepdaughter had kept him trimmer than he might have been otherwise. She could still remember his admiring tone from so long ago. He’d never taken her off that pedestal. That had been the problem, really. No, she chided herself. She had been the problem. She had always been the problem.
“What are you doing here? I am going, you know. It’s kind of the boys to worry but I truly feel this is something I have to…”
“No,” said Richard simply, raising his hand. “I’m here to help.”
- - -
I had no idea who this geezer was—he was pretty handsome for an old bloke, that was for sure—but it became clear pretty quickly. I looked at his huge Range Rover.
“Yes,” he said. “Why don’t I drive you in that? Then you won’t have to get on and off the train.”
I thought about all the money Claire had spent on first-class rail tickets but didn’t mention it. I was enough in her debt already.
“Great,” I said, with massive relief, and I meant it. The folded-up wheelchair fit into the back of the car with ease, and I helped Claire up the high step—I’d never been in such a fancy car before.
Dad looked on, a bit crestfallen. I felt bad about that.
“Look, it’s good Richard’s helping us,” I said.
Dad looked at his old Peugeot.
“I like your car,” I said. “This is a stupid car. It’s going to destroy the planet and kill us all. Oh look, it has a telly in the backseat!”
Dad smiled ruefully. “You’re off again then,” he said.
“Not for long,” I said. After living in pajamas and one slightly ill-advised neon miniskirt for two days, I’d put my Paris uniform back on.
Dad shook his head.
“Your mother thinks it is for long. She thinks you’ve left.”
“Don’t be daft,” I said, my voice cracking a bit. “This will always be my home.”
Dad gave me a hug.
“There’s always a home for you here,” he said. “That’s not quite the same thing, mind. Anyway, you’re thirty, love. About time you got your life started, don’t you think?”
- - -
I felt like a kid sitting in the backseat, but I didn’t mind. There was a stack of DVDs carefully put on a little shelf, obviously for the grandchildren, and Richard offered to put one on for me.
Claire hadn’t spoken much about her ex in the hospital, although the boys were very good at coming to see her, and it was clear they must have resembled him. I understood that it had ended and that they weren’t in touch, but what had ended it and why I had no idea. So I figured it was best to slip the headphones on and let them get on with it.
- - -
Claire glanced briefly at Anna in the backseat, completely engrossed in the film like a child, and smiled to herself. She was in a little pain—her joints felt sore, as if she had a strong flu, and a headache was circling and threatening to descend from any quarter, but thankfully she wasn’t vomiting. For that, small mercies.
Richard had asked her why on earth she wouldn’t just take the train, but she was adamant. She wanted to take that boat again. She didn’t like words like closure, but yes, it was important to her.
She and Richard chatted here and there—mostly of the boys. It was funny how quickly they fell back into their own ways together. She glanced at his hand on the gearstick. He had always been a good driver, took it seriously, got upset if she had a dent or scratched the side. It used to matter a lot.
Once they hit the great long stretches of the M6, empty in between the rush hour and the holiday traffic, he put the cruise control on and sat back in his seat a little. She heard his knees crack. She wasn’t the only one getting on a bit.
“So,” he said quietly. “It was him all along then. I mean, this is a very, very long time to keep a flame burning, Claire.”
Claire shrugged. “I think…I mean, it’s too late now. I know that.”
She stared at her lap. It always seemed easier to talk in cars, when you could stare out of the window, she supposed. And you weren’t staring face to face.
Richard shook his head.
“Do you know what I wish?” he said, his hands steady on the steering wheel. “I wish just after we’d met and you were all dreamy and distant that I’d called you on it. That I hadn’t pretended that it was just because you were some mystical fairy, or been so terrified of losing you. I wish I’d just said, ‘who is it?’ and then let you go. I bet by the following year, the glow would have come off it anyway.”
“Maybe,” said Claire.
“And you could have come back to the UK and then you’d have been pleased to have me.”
“I was always pleased to have you,” said Claire.
He glanced at her, as if he thought she was being sarcastic. A light squall of rain had gotten up.
“Well,” he grumbled. “Too late for that now.”
“I know you want me to apologize,” said Claire. “But I can’t. We raised two lovely boys. We spent twenty-five years together. That’s more than a lot of people do. I didn’t mean to make you unhappy.”
“I know,” said Richard. “And I shouldn’t have done what I did.”
She shrugged. It was water under the bridge now.
“The boys don’t tell me much…well, I’m not sure how much you tell the boys. You’re so damned closed, Claire…”
His irritation threatened to spill over, but he managed to temper out, swinging out to overtake a lorry that was wobbling precariously in the middle lane, water sluicing from its chains.
“I mean…I mean…”
“How bad is it?”
Richard nodded, as if he couldn’t say the words out loud.