choices.’ Alex shrugged guiltily. ‘They’re both correct, according the dictionary.’
‘Yes, they are. Although I imagine that “ize” as a verb ending is considered either an anachronism or an American spelling these days.’ She smirked at him.
‘You can mock if you want. Just because I went to a school that prided itself on having been the same for the last few hundred years…’ Alex had hated school. It had been only slightly less snobby and suffocating than his parents’ home.
‘I’m not mocking; I thought it was very sweet of you.’ She took a step towards him. ‘Along with all those expensive textbooks you used to lend me. And dropping round to pick me up so I didn’t have to take the bus.’
‘Why bring that up all of a sudden? Just to let me know I’m not as tactful as I thought I was?’ Alex wondered if he was in for a lecture about how she could have managed perfectly well on her own.
Marie shook her head. ‘You were very tactful. I hardly even noticed what you were doing most of the time. And you were my friend and you helped me. That’s something that goes both ways.’
He knew that. But he couldn’t talk to Marie about this. ‘I’m fine. Really. And I appreciate your concern.’
‘Just as long as you know that I’m always here for you.’
She reached out, touching his arm, and Alex almost flinched. All his senses were crying out for comfort, and yet he just couldn’t bring himself to ask. Was this the way she’d felt, despite all her self-sufficiency?
‘I know. Thank you.’
He’d meant to give her a basic friendly hug, the kind he’d given her so many times before. But when he felt her body against his he couldn’t let her go. Marie seemed to be the one thing in his life that wasn’t tainted right now.
He leaned down to kiss her cheek. But she turned her head and his lips brushed hers. Before he could tear himself away her gaze met his, her eyes midnight-blue in the darkness.
What if…?
What if…?
What if he could turn his back on the vision of his parents’ unhappy marriage and sustain a relationship for more than a few months? What if he could trust himself to get involved with the one person he cared about the most, even knowing he might break her heart and his? And what if everything he’d sought to escape hadn’t just caught him again in its iron clutches?
They were all serious questions that needed to be asked and answered before he took the step of kissing her. But then he felt her lips touch his and he was lost. Or maybe this was exactly what it was like to find himself. Alex wasn’t sure.
She was soft and sweet, and when he kissed her again she responded. Maybe it lasted a moment and maybe an hour. All Alex knew was that it was impossible to attach a time frame to something that was complete and perfect.
Even the way she drew away from him was perfect. A little sigh of regret, her eyes masked by her eyelashes.
He’d always supposed that kissing Marie was the one thing he mustn’t do. The one thing he wouldn’t be able to come back from. But in a sudden moment of clarity he realised that kissing her had only made him more determined that he couldn’t do it. Marie wasn’t just another pretty face he could walk away from without looking back. She was his friend, and he wanted her for a lifetime, not just a few months.
‘Do you want to go back in?’ If it meant keeping her then he had to let her go.
She still wouldn’t look at him. ‘Yes…’
He felt her move in his arms and let her go. Marie looked up at him for a moment, and he almost forgot that this had been a very bad idea that had the power to spoil something that had been good for years. Then suddenly she was gone, back into the restaurant to take her seat at the table again.
Alex waited, knowing the group always swapped places between courses, so everyone got to speak to everyone else. When he went back inside there was a free seat for him at the other end of the table from Marie. Alex sat down without looking at her, and was immediately involved in the heated debate about football which was going on between Emily and Will.
She didn’t meet his gaze until the restaurant closed and a waitress pointedly fetched everyone’s coats. Then, suddenly, he found himself standing next to her. He automatically helped her on with her coat and Marie smiled up at him.
‘I’ll see you next year. Be well, Alex.’
‘Yes. Next year…’
He’d scarcely got the words out before she was gone. Marie had made her meaning clear. They were friends, and nothing was going to spoil that. Not fire, nor flood, nor even an amazing, heart-shaking kiss. By next year it would be forgotten, and he and Marie would continue the way they always had.
The thought that he wouldn’t see her again until next February seemed more heart-rending than any of the other challenges he’d faced in the last six months.
The first Friday in May
IT WAS ONLY four stops on the Tube from the central London hospital where Marie worked, but shining architecture and trendy bars had given way to high-rise flats, corner shops and families with every kind of problem imaginable.
Marie knew about some of those problems first-hand. She’d grown up fifteen minutes’ walk away from the address that Alex had given her. Her father had left when she was ten, and her mother had retreated into a world of her own. Four miserable months in foster care had seen Marie separated from her three younger brothers, and when the family had got back together again she’d resolved that she’d keep it that way.
It had cost Marie her childhood. Looking after her brothers while her mother had worked long hours to keep them afloat financially. She’d learned how to shop and cook, and at the weekends she’d helped out by taking her brothers to the park, reading her schoolbooks while they played.
It had been hard. And lonely. After she’d left home she’d had a few relationships, but knowing exactly what it meant to be abandoned had made her cautious. She’d never found the kind of love that struck like a bolt of lightning, dispelling all doubts and fears, and the continuing need to look after her family didn’t give her too much time for regrets.
When she reached the Victorian building it looked just as ominous as she remembered it, its bricks stained with grime and three floors towering above her like a dark shadow in the evening sunshine. The high cast-iron gates creaked as Marie pulled them open, leaving flakes of paint on her hands.
‘This had better not be a joke…’
It wasn’t a joke. Alex’s practical jokes were usually a lot more imaginative than this. And when he’d called her it had sounded important. He’d made a coded reference to their kiss, saying that he wanted her to come as a professional favour to a friend, which told Marie that he’d done exactly as she’d hoped and moved past it. That was both a relief and a disappointment.
She pushed the thought
