Damian came out after about twenty minutes, already lighting up a fag before the door swung shut. His lanyard looped about his neck, bare arms in rolled-up shirt sleeves. My heart leaped up as my stomach lurched, and in the café I gathered my things and my bulk, trying not to rush but also not wanting to miss him. The lights at the pedestrian crossing took ages. I hoped he wouldn’t see me before then, so I’d have to do that awkward wave-and-walk-towards thing. Maybe he’d go back inside. We hadn’t left things on good terms.

As it happened, I was close enough to tap his shoulder before he saw me – because he didn’t recognise me at all. I saw it bloom in his eyes.

‘Jesus! Suzi?’

In other circumstances, I might have enjoyed his shock. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

Nora

Nora

I waited outside the council buildings for almost an hour. I had never been to Sevenoaks before and found it a small, pretty town, full of expensive shops and red-brick cottages. It was freezing, an icy wind nipping at my fingers and face, but I didn’t care. I had a purpose again, a new plan. None of this confusion, this backing out of what I’d steeled myself to do.

Eventually, on the dot of 1 p.m., Nick came out. He was bundled in a long black coat, with a scarf I could tell was expensive tucked around his neck. Leather gloves, the kind stranglers wore. He didn’t see me. No one notices frumpy middle-aged women, which was what I’d let myself become. Grief had etched lines into my face, and I’d allowed my hair to go grey. I’d put on weight, letting sugar and fat fill up the emptiness inside me.

I followed Nick all the way from his office down the high street. My heart raced, afraid that he might turn and realise he knew me, but I had a bobble hat pulled low over my face and had put on several extra jumpers to change my shape. With this rudimentary disguise, I was able to position myself just one person behind Nick in the queue for the café he turned into. It was a fancy place, serving mixed salads and falafels in waxed cardboard boxes, ethically sourced coffees and teas and matcha, whatever that was. I used to think I was sophisticated, travelling the world as I did for concerts. But I rarely saw more than auditoriums and airport hotels, and in the years I’d stayed obediently at home, the world had moved on.