Your first-dance wedding song.’
‘I knew that.’
I feel hands on my shoulders and I tilt my head back to see Michael behind me. ‘No you didn’t. Are you done schmoozing Laurel now?’
‘I wasn’t schmoozing anyone.’ He joins us at the table, stealing a sip of my gin. ‘I thought you two were going all “Saturday Night Fever”?’
‘Yes, well, the moment’s passed.’ I retrieve my drink and throw Michael a smile. ‘Besides, I didn’t want to tire him out.’ I jerk my head in the direction of Liam. ‘You’re both on the wrong side of forty now, so …’
‘You let her get away with talking to you like that?’ Liam winks as he gets up, leaning over to plant a quick kiss on my cheek, slapping Michael’s shoulder as he slides past him. ‘I’ll leave you guys to it. I’ve got a meeting first thing in the morning, before that squash game, so I’m calling it a night. See you both tomorrow.’
I watch him stride through the crowd of people, stopping every now and again to say a few words to old colleagues and friends before he disappears from sight.
‘Maybe we should call it a night, too,’ Michael sighs, checking his watch. ‘You must be shattered, the week you’ve had.’
‘I’m okay.’
He looks at me. ‘Are you?’
‘Michael, I’m fine. Really.’
He stands up and holds out his hand and I take it as we head towards the exit, his fingers curling around mine, and I squeeze his hand a little tighter as we walk.
‘I’m really proud of you, Ellie.’ He stops and pulls me into his arms, kissing the tip of my nose. ‘And I don’t think I tell you that enough. You deserve the success you’re finally getting. It’s been a long time coming. After everything you’ve been through …’ His expression changes, for the briefest of seconds, a fleeting moment that only someone as close to him as me could possibly have noticed, before he pulls it back and his smile returns. ‘Potential Local Businesswoman of the Year, huh?’
I smile back, tugging gently on his shirt collar. ‘Hey, slow down, okay? There are only rumours of a nomination at the minute, let’s not get too excited.’
‘Ellie!’
A loud, deep voice aimed in our direction cuts through the noise and I look over Michael’s shoulder to see Ernie Waterford approaching: Michael’s predecessor as Head of Department and a lifelong mentor to my husband, not to mention a good friend.
‘Looking stunning, as always.’
Michael moves aside, allowing Ernie to envelop me in a big bear hug, the scent of cigars and port filling my nostrils. ‘Flattery will get you nowhere, Professor.’
His booming laugh almost drowns out the music and I glance over at Michael, who throws me a knowing smile.
‘Persistence is in my blood, Ellie. I’m still trying to work out how that man there snared a woman as beautiful as you, but if he ever leaves you …’ He winks at me and I laugh, too. Ernie’s harmless flirting has been part of our lives for as long as I can remember now, ‘he’d be an idiot,’ he adds, throwing me another wink before he heads off in the direction of the bar.
Michael slips an arm around my shoulders, gently kissing the side of my temple. ‘I don’t think that’s something we need to worry about, do you? Neither of us is going anywhere. Are we?’
I slide my fingers between his and I smile, turning my head so my mouth catches his, and
I taste gin on his lips as he kisses me quickly. ‘I hope not.’
I used to love early mornings. That time of day when it can feel as though you’re the only person awake, when everything is calm and peaceful. I used to crave those snatched hours alone – it’s the perfect time to think, when all those thoughts that may have felt jumbled before suddenly start to make sense. But now – now things are different. Things have changed. Nothing makes much sense any more, there’s too much to think about, too many thoughts crowding my brain and it doesn’t always make for those calm and peaceful hours alone I was once so fond of. I found myself waking early this morning; found myself down here, in the orangery that stretches the entire length of the back of our beautiful home on the outskirts of the County Durham countryside, drinking tea and thinking, about all those things I’d rather forget. Nights like last night; parties, dinners with friends, they help push the memories to one side, for a little while, but they’ll never go away. They always come back.
Curling my legs up underneath myself I settle back into the comfortable couch that looks out over our sprawling garden. A neat, raised decking area leads out on to a perfectly manicured lawn, its flat, green surface interspersed with patches of shrubbery and strategically placed pot plants. There’s a magnolia tree near the centre of the lawn, two apple trees to the side, and at the back of the garden there’s a small vegetable patch, which is – was – very much Michael’s baby. My fingers don’t even come close to being green. Next to that is a sky-blue painted summer house, its front porch decorated with various terracotta pots, all housing an array of multi-coloured pansies. That summer house is my office. Was my office. I used to love working out of that summer house, it was my haven. Once. Now my office is in a side room next to the small indoor swimming pool we had built onto the back of the orangery a couple of years ago. A room that used to house towels and robes, but they’re now kept in a large storage box at the back of the pool area. I needed that room. I wanted that room. A strange choice, maybe, given that we have three spare bedrooms upstairs, but I wanted that room.
I stare back outside, watching as the sun starts to break through the early morning cloud, casting shadows over the summer house. Casting shadows. Something I’ve become all too familiar with. Shadows. Darkness. Even my beautiful garden feels different, now.
Over the years we’ve turned that garden from nothing but grass and wasteland into a rustic, colourful space. We worked hard to make sure it was perfect, for us. For what we needed - wanted it to be, and I look over towards the back of the garden, to a corner adjacent to the summer house. It’s empty now, that corner, we don’t need what used to stand there, not any more. I wanted it gone.
I don’t go out into the garden all that much any more. I don’t have the time. I’m too busy. I’m about to open another new business, a day spa, and that’s taking up a lot of my time. Too much of my time, some would say, but keeping busy is important. Over the past year and a half I’ve opened a third hair and beauty studio – I already have one in Newcastle and another in Durham – as well as taking on this day spa. I’ve never really been one to take it easy. I find that even harder to do now, despite people telling me to slow down. It isn’t that simple, it never has been. It’s even less so, now.
I close my eyes for a second, just for a second, and then it’s almost as if the silence suddenly hits me, making me aware of its presence, and they spring open. I walk over to the French doors in front of me, and I know I won’t be able to stop myself from doing what I seem to do on an almost daily basis now. But they say we all have a touch of OCD inside us, somewhere. I just need to make sure that door is locked. What’s so strange about that? And as my fingers close around the metal
