At the last moment, my bag unbalanced me and I stumbled. Joe caught me and there was a moment’s awkwardness. I assured him I was okay, but still I dusted the place where he had touched me and he wiped his hands together. We two, who used to spend whole weekends in bed, who had known every tiny part of each other’s bodies and used to delight in giving one another pleasure, we had become reticent about touching at all. It was painfully awkward and so was the silence that stretched between us so far I could feel the draught as metaphorical tumbleweed rolled sorrowfully by.

It wasn’t a great beginning. I wondered how on earth we would get through the coming days.

4

‘I can’t believe you’re still struggling with that old suitcase,’ were the first words Joe said to me on our reunion. He stared at the case, battered and grubby and covered with stickers. ‘You said you were going to get rid of it after Seville.’

Oh, Seville; yes. At Seville airport, I had inadvertently pulled the case over the toes of an elderly man, causing him to drop the duty-free bag he was holding. The bottle of Laphroaig contained inside broke, spilling its contents firstly into the plastic bag and then, when the old man picked the bag up, over his beige slacks, his sandals, his white socks and the floor.

I was pretty sure now that Joe was remembering the smell of whisky, the redness of the man’s face and his refusal to accept our help or our offer to replace the whisky.

I hadn’t thought of that incident in at least a decade and wished Joe hadn’t reminded me of it; a thinly veiled criticism that carried all kinds of subliminal messages about my clumsiness, my carelessness, my inertia. At a time when I was already wracked with insecurities, it wasn’t a kind thing to do. On the plus side, it was gratifying to find a valid reason to be angry with Joe all over again.

Now my ex-husband was staring at my face. If he said anything about me looking worn out or stressed, I would turn around and walk away. Really, I would.

Instead he asked in a grudging voice: ‘Do you want some?’ and offered me the bottle of water he was holding. He’d obviously been drinking from it while he waited for me because it was half empty.

‘No, thank you,’ I said primly and even before the words had been spoken, I regretted them because I was desperately thirsty.

‘We’ll get going then.’

‘Right.’

Joe tried to take the handle of my bag, but I insisted I could manage and then had to pretend I wasn’t struggling as I followed him through the arrivals hall.