It wasn’t too difficult to find out where Amber was now living. Although Ted had finally ditched my prematurely ageing mother in favour of a young Italian housekeeper, he was my obvious first port of call. I was confident he would let me make casual contact with his daughter after such a long time. Ten years was proof enough that I was no stalker, rather an old friend interested in a catch-up. Time can be used to advantage if one has patience and guile. These were my forte.

54

Rebecca

The memories of our reunion, however brief and unconsummated, filled me with euphoria for days afterwards. Every minute took on a magical quality. My senses woke from a deep slumber and anything seemed possible.

Mitch made me promise to phone him the next day but I decided to take it slowly, make him wait. He didn’t have my phone number or my address so, for now, all the cards were in my hands.

If I didn’t stay late at work cataloguing items for an auction, I jogged round the park every evening. Life had meaning again and I was filled with renewed hope. I cleaned the flat from top to bottom and even managed to be civil to Arthur. I would tell him soon that we were over and gently break off our relationship.

I savoured the days before I finally picked up the phone. I decided to risk the Saturday night tease, testing your intent. Time had killed off the innocent ebullience of youth and replaced it with not a small measure of cunning. I needn’t have worried. You were free on Saturday.

I concocted a feeble storyline for Arthur. Women’s problems, I said. He’d become tetchy recently, albeit in his bland unwilling to cause a scene sort of way, when I mentioned nights out with the girls. His silent response was accusatory. His throw away whatever made me err on the side of caution. I’d talk to him, as usual, on Monday evening and meet up with him on Wednesday. Our routine had become tedious and when I picked up the courage, I’d knock it on the head once and for all. Arthur was not for me. Perhaps I’d write to him and explain it all in a letter.

I drove to Barnet where you were now living. We’d arranged to meet in a small pub near Hadley Highstone. Your car was already in the car park, a reconditioned orange MG Midget. I smiled comparing its panache with Arthur’s dull maroon Ford estate which he used to transport drug supplies round the country.