their loss must be absorbed, only transmuted in its own time, from within, and not through signing up to good causes or forming action plans to change the world.
My day at school is long and tiring. I hurry out to the school car park just before 5 p.m., two heavy bags in each hand. I’m planning to have a soak in the bath then head into town to meet
Laura for a drink. I don’t see her very often these days, not since the week after Dee Dee died. In fact, since I moved in with Jed I’ve hardly seen any of my old friends. It’s
not just that I’m preoccupied with my home life: my oldest friend, Moira, who I shared a flat with for several years, emigrated to New Zealand at the start of the year and most of my other
friends – including Laura herself – have small children, which makes it far harder than it used to be to arrange to meet. On top of that, my new role as head of Key Stage One means
I’m bogged down with admin and, like a total glutton for punishment, I have also taken on responsibility for the end of term production – coming up in just a few weeks now – which
involves rehearsing the kids every other lunch hour.
As I reach my car and fumble in my bag for the key, my name echoes across the school car park. I look up. A man in a long, dark overcoat is walking towards me. The last time a stranger
approached me in this car park it was Zoe, shrieking obscenities. I look more closely as the man draws nearer. This is not a stranger. It’s my old boyfriend, Dan, who Laura herself mentioned
the last time we met. I can’t believe it and stare, stupidly, as he approaches. Dan has filled out a little since I last saw him and there are fine lines around his eyes, but otherwise
it’s the same face, the same disarming smile.
‘Em?’ he says again. Then he stops and stares at me.
I stare back, feeling my entire body flushing under his scrutiny. Seeing him is an electric shock to my system. My heart starts racing. My mouth falls open. I even forget that I have no make-up
on and that there’s a huge paint stain on my jacket.
‘Dan?’
‘Hello.’ He grins. It’s the same sexy smile that used to floor me ten years ago. My stomach cartwheels. I clutch at the car. What is going on? What is my ex-boyfriend doing
here? Why is my body reacting like this? I haven’t thought about him since that conversation three months ago and, before then, he hadn’t crossed my mind in years. I realize my mouth is
open and close it. I swallow, my throat too dry to speak.
‘It’s good to see you.’ Dan moves closer, his hand resting on the bonnet of my car. I can see now that his coat and his haircut are both smart and expensive, that he has really
grown into his looks: broad shoulders, full lips, a long, straight nose, cool, grey eyes and dark, wavy hair. My legs feel trembly and I have to lean against the car. I have no idea why my body is
responding like this, but it’s making me angry.
‘How are you?’ Dan asks.
‘Fine.’ The word sounds harsh as I say it, more harsh that I mean it to, but if Dan is fazed by this he doesn’t show it.
‘I came to find you,’ he said. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’
What the hell can he be talking about? It’s eight years since he announced he was taking a job in New York and that it wasn’t practical to think our twenty-month-long relationship
would survive it. I was heartbroken for a long time. Dan, on the other hand, plunged into his new life with gusto, making little effort to stay in touch and stopping altogether within a matter of
months.
What on earth could warrant this sudden reappearance out of the blue? Is he getting married? Becoming a father? No, surely neither of those things would bring him here, like this. Could he be
dying? Or have some terrible disease which has lain dormant for ten years, which I might have caught from him?
I slam the car door shut. ‘So why are you here? What do you want?’
Now Dan does look surprised. He
My day at school is long and tiring. I hurry out to the school car park just before 5 p.m., two heavy bags in each hand. I’m planning to have a soak in the bath then head into town to meet
Laura for a drink. I don’t see her very often these days, not since the week after Dee Dee died. In fact, since I moved in with Jed I’ve hardly seen any of my old friends. It’s
not just that I’m preoccupied with my home life: my oldest friend, Moira, who I shared a flat with for several years, emigrated to New Zealand at the start of the year and most of my other
friends – including Laura herself – have small children, which makes it far harder than it used to be to arrange to meet. On top of that, my new role as head of Key Stage One means
I’m bogged down with admin and, like a total glutton for punishment, I have also taken on responsibility for the end of term production – coming up in just a few weeks now – which
involves rehearsing the kids every other lunch hour.
As I reach my car and fumble in my bag for the key, my name echoes across the school car park. I look up. A man in a long, dark overcoat is walking towards me. The last time a stranger
approached me in this car park it was Zoe, shrieking obscenities. I look more closely as the man draws nearer. This is not a stranger. It’s my old boyfriend, Dan, who Laura herself mentioned
the last time we met. I can’t believe it and stare, stupidly, as he approaches. Dan has filled out a little since I last saw him and there are fine lines around his eyes, but otherwise
it’s the same face, the same disarming smile.
‘Em?’ he says again. Then he stops and stares at me.
I stare back, feeling my entire body flushing under his scrutiny. Seeing him is an electric shock to my system. My heart starts racing. My mouth falls open. I even forget that I have no make-up
on and that there’s a huge paint stain on my jacket.
‘Dan?’
‘Hello.’ He grins. It’s the same sexy smile that used to floor me ten years ago. My stomach cartwheels. I clutch at the car. What is going on? What is my ex-boyfriend doing
here? Why is my body reacting like this? I haven’t thought about him since that conversation three months ago and, before then, he hadn’t crossed my mind in years. I realize my mouth is
open and close it. I swallow, my throat too dry to speak.
‘It’s good to see you.’ Dan moves closer, his hand resting on the bonnet of my car. I can see now that his coat and his haircut are both smart and expensive, that he has really
grown into his looks: broad shoulders, full lips, a long, straight nose, cool, grey eyes and dark, wavy hair. My legs feel trembly and I have to lean against the car. I have no idea why my body is
responding like this, but it’s making me angry.
‘How are you?’ Dan asks.
‘Fine.’ The word sounds harsh as I say it, more harsh that I mean it to, but if Dan is fazed by this he doesn’t show it.
‘I came to find you,’ he said. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’
What the hell can he be talking about? It’s eight years since he announced he was taking a job in New York and that it wasn’t practical to think our twenty-month-long relationship
would survive it. I was heartbroken for a long time. Dan, on the other hand, plunged into his new life with gusto, making little effort to stay in touch and stopping altogether within a matter of
months.
What on earth could warrant this sudden reappearance out of the blue? Is he getting married? Becoming a father? No, surely neither of those things would bring him here, like this. Could he be
dying? Or have some terrible disease which has lain dormant for ten years, which I might have caught from him?
I slam the car door shut. ‘So why are you here? What do you want?’
Now Dan does look surprised. He
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