I try to reassure my reflection with a smile, but she responds half-heartedly. I return my features to neutral. The quiet stillness that calmed and embraced me smashes as the door bursts open. The loud chaos of the bar floods the space and sucks the air out of the tiny room. I struggle to keep my head above the noise and grip the basin, white knuckles pointing at the exit. Two women, slightly worse for wear, stumble inside, laughing at something I’m not privy to. They look younger than me, though I suspect we are probably the same age. Their skirts are short, their lips are red and their paper hats remind me that it is Christmas. It doesn’t mean anything any more – Christmas. The chatter spilling out of the women is just loud enough to drown out the voices in my head telling me to walk away, so I take a deep breath and head for the bar.
I stand right next to him, breathing in his smell, already so familiar and forbidden. He doesn’t seem to notice me at all.
‘I’ll have a glass of Malbec, please,’ I say to the barman. In my peripheral vision, I see Edward’s head turn, his eyes drinking me in from top to bottom, the way they always did.
‘Hello, Edward,’ I say, turning to face him. I do my best to keep my voice and my expression level. He smiles back. Time has changed me, but clearly left him alone. Over a decade of life seems to have only improved him. I can’t help noticing the tanned skin, white teeth and mischievous brown eyes that seem to dance with delight as he stares at me.
‘I’ll get that and another pint of Amber Ale – I like the name.’ He takes a crisp twenty pound note from his leather wallet and places it on the bar. His white cotton shirt looks almost too small for him as it struggles and strains to hide the muscles beneath. He was always at the gym when we were students and clearly still works out now. ‘So, you came.’
‘I did,’ I reply. His stare feels too intense and I struggle not to look away.
‘It’s good to see you.’ Something about the way his eyes hold mine makes me shrink a little. The wine arrives and I am greedy for it.
‘Well, I had a couple of hours free this evening and thought it might be nice to catch up,’ I say.
‘A couple of hours? Is that all I’m getting?’ he says, passing me my glass.
‘No, I’ve only got ten minutes to spare with you, then I’ve got another date with some cool people.’
He smiles, a fraction too late.
‘Another date?’ he asks.
I blush.
‘I see. Well, I had better make the most of the time I have with you then. Cheers.’ He raises his glass to mine and continues to hold my stare as we drink. I look away first and swallow down more of the wine than I should.
Things quickly become comfortable between us. The alcohol oils our conversation and both flow freely. It feels easy and natural to be in his company again, despite the missing years. Three days before Christmas and the bar is uncomfortably full, but I barely notice. The strangers that surround us are regularly replenished, cushioning me from the dangerously sharp edges of who we used to be. I return Edward’s smiles, compliments and light touches only too aware that it would take just a tiny tear to rip through the fabric of the life I have now. After two drinks I’m already feeling slightly more intoxicated than seems wise. I haven’t managed to eat much today.
‘I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,’ he says, as though reading my mind. ‘Do you have time to get a quick bite to eat?’ I consider the proposal. I’m hungry, I’m having fun. I’m not doing anything wrong. In my albeit brief search, I can’t find a reason to say no.
‘Somewhere nearby?’ I ask.
‘Sounds good to me,’ he says, then stands to help me into my jacket. After fighting our way through the masses, he pushes the door open ahead of me. ‘After you.’ I’d forgotten what it was like to be out with a gentleman; it’s like being with someone from the past, my past.
The air is soberingly cold, but Edward says he knows a place not too far away. I’m out of practice walking in heels on cobbled streets. The second time I stumble he takes my arm and I let him, aware that we must look like a couple and I don’t think that I mind. We stop at what looks like a residential town house and I’m confused when he releases my arm and knocks on the intimidating black door.
‘What are you doing?’ I whisper. I feel like a schoolgirl.
‘Finding somewhere for us to eat, unless you aren’t hungry any more?’
Before I have a chance to reply, the large, glossy door swings open, and a middle-aged man in a black suit appears in the doorway. He’s uncomfortably tall, like someone has stretched him and he has the face of someone who’s received too much bad news. ‘Any chance of a table for two?’ asks Edward.
To my surprise, the man nods. ‘Of course, sir, step this way.’
I feel like Alice in Wonderland as I follow the suited man down a long, marble-floored hallway. I look over my shoulder to make sure Edward is still following behind. He looks pleased with himself and I realise this was probably all part of his plan for the evening. I don’t mind, it’s not as though he forced me to come. We turn through a small door on the right and enter a large, candlelit dining room, where we are shown to the only remaining empty table. Four other couples are already seated; they don’t look up.
‘I will get you the wine list, sir,’ says the suited man before retreating with our coats through a curtained doorway.
‘Well, this is impressive,’ is all I can manage to say.
‘Thank you, I like it. It’s members’ only.’
His tanned hands pick up the white cotton napkin on the table in front of him, carefully unfolding the cloth as though he’s handling the Turin Shroud, before placing it on his lap. I do the same with my own napkin, then wonder what is taking so long with the wine list. I worry that we might have already exhausted all avenues of interesting conversation without it.
‘How’s the new job going?’ I ask.
‘Well. Very well in fact. It was supposed to be temporary, but they’ve offered me a permanent post and I’ve decided to stay a little longer.’
‘Congratulations, which hospital?’
‘King Alfred’s.’
‘That’s near me,’ I say. He smiles.
‘And your girlfriend, does she work in London too?’
‘She does, but in the city centre. What with my shifts and her work schedule, I don’t get to see her as often as I’d like. There’s no food menu here, you get what you’re given, I’m afraid, but it’s always good.’
‘What if I don’t like what I’m given?’
‘I’m pretty sure that you will.’
I listen to him talk about his work. He always wanted to be a doctor and now he is. I think it was one of the things I found so attractive about him when we first met. He wanted to help people, wanted to save them. He doesn’t talk about it for long, he’s too modest for that, he keeps changing the subject back to me. My stories seem shallow and empty in comparison. What I do doesn’t save lives. I do what I do to help myself.
The meal is the nicest food I’ve eaten for a long time but, as my wine glass is refilled, I can’t stop myself from prodding at the perfect evening.
‘Does your girlfriend know you’re out with an ex tonight?’ I ask.
‘Of course! Doesn’t your husband?’
I don’t say anything and he laughs at me. I don’t like it.
‘That was a long time ago, we’ve both moved on and grown up a lot since then,’ he adds. I feel foolish and old, past my ‘best before’ date.
He says no to dessert, so I do the same. As he talks, I can’t help remembering when we were together. He struggled to keep his hands off me then but that was over ten years ago. He might look the same, but I don’t. Despite the new clothes and make-up, I’m still the old me and not the one he remembers.