And for some reason, Michael lost his composure completely, and started crying again – and that made Maria cry. They sat together in the sun as the children laughed at them, and the car horns blasted outside. Michael and Maria looked through the little tablet, holding it in their hands – gazing at a world so far away, but so close they could feel the heat and smell the fumes. At last, Maria put her hand on the screen, and the children touched her fingertips. She made Michael do the same, and he realised that was the signal for God bless, goodnight, goodbye – we are apart, but close. Goodbye – we are touching… I love you.

Maria ended the call, and they were alone again.

They dried their eyes, and they stood up. Then, slowly and carefully, they walked all the way back to the hotel.

NORTH AND SOUTH

32

Michael’s things were behind the reception desk.

He had forgotten that the room was only available for one night, and the staff had been obliged to prepare for the next guest. They were very kind. They found him a sleeping bag and even a mattress, so he had supper with Maria and slept on her floor, squeezed between the bed and the wall. The next day, they caught the bus to the station, where the 10.12 to Blackpool was only one minute late. They boarded together, and got down at Preston.

Maria was heading north, so Michael took her to the platform. Her connection was eight minutes late, and there was an apology because the person speaking knew that there would be inconvenience. Another train came through but this one didn’t stop. Everyone was advised to stand behind the yellow line, and it crashed through in a hurricane of silver and red. Those last eight minutes seemed extra-specially precious – a little gift from the railway company.

He kissed her on the cheek when they parted.

She held him very close for a long time. For a moment he worried she might miss the train, but she let him go at last and he stood back. The doors closed, and he then had the wondrous experience of watching her choose her seat quickly so that she could sit down and wave. They waved to each other until the distance made waving absurd, but he carried on anyway in case her eyes were better than his. He turned, aware that people had noticed him and might even be envying whatever relationship he had with the woman they’d seen board the train. He was aware, too, that he really had been waving to someone. He had not been pretending.