Dan was scanning the street without any real hope, but there, cresting the summit of the sloping road and heading towards them, was the miraculous yellow light of an available cab, so he flagged it down and picked up the dog.

‘He looks happy enough, anyway,’ Duncan said, nodding at McCulloch. ‘So that’s something.’

Dan gave a small laugh and climbed into the car, slamming shut the door and saluting Duncan through the window as they drove away. But later, on the train, he thought yeah, actually, yeah. He was only an elderly, arthritic Jack Russell, but there was something very welcome, even helpful, about McCulloch’s steady devotion, and his placid acceptance of each new change in circumstances. The little dog’s needs were few, and so easily met, thought Dan; we should all be so lucky.

29

LONDON,
LATER THE SAME DAY

Dan and McCulloch walked into the Warwick Castle at ten past eight and there was Alison Connor, sitting at the bar like a mirage.

‘Hey,’ she said, as if it’d been only yesterday, as if neither of them had crawled over emotional burning coals to get to each other.

‘Hey.’ He stood for a while and drank her in, so perfectly at home on that bar stool, yet fundamentally out of context. The disconnect between these two facts made him slow to react, as in a dream, when you want to reach out for what you know you need, but your arms are heavy and won’t obey the signals from your brain. He stared at her, and didn’t move or speak, and she watched him a little uncertainly, then hopped off the stool and hunkered down to scratch the little dog behind his ear. ‘So you’re McCulloch?’ she said. He shuffled closer to her and closed his eyes and gave a small shiver of bliss.

Dan gave a soft laugh, and all the terrible weight of the day eased by a few small degrees. She stood up and moved towards him, then cradled the back of his neck with one hand while she kissed him with gentle care.

‘Alison,’ he said now, and he was closer to tears than he’d been all day, way, way closer, keenly moved by her tenderness. He’d believed he would never see her again, he’d begun the process of hardening his heart against her, he’d tried to think her faithless, weak, insincere. But now the sight of her slayed him all over again, and he felt a jolt of fear, because although he might have underestimated her resolve, how was he ever to trust that she would stay? He stepped back, and she let her arms fall to her side.

‘Daniel,’ she said. ‘Please forgive me.’

He’d forgive this woman anything, he thought. That was the problem.