was married yes, but we’re divorced now.’
Harper nodded and Sam couldn’t tell if he was noting the answer or confirming it was correct. ‘Children?’
‘No.’
There was a moment when Harper held his gaze and Sam didn’t know what he was going to ask next but he dreaded it anyway.
‘I might want to speak to your wife, sorry, your ex-wife,’ Harper said at last. ‘Do you have her contact details?’ Harper had lifted his pen to his notepad in readiness.
‘You might have difficulty there. She was going on her honeymoon this morning so she’ll probably be mid-flight by now,’ Sam said. He was getting to know Harper and had the answer to his next remark before it left his lips. ‘But of course you can have her details if it helps.’
‘You haven’t had much success with relationships, have you, Mr McIntyre?’ Harper said. ‘Why did you break up with Miss Jenkins, by the way? She’s young and pretty by all accounts. What went wrong? Wasn’t she your type, either?’
‘We dated briefly and it didn’t work out, that’s all there was to it,’ Sam replied, not sure how he was remaining calm.
‘Was it something specifically that caused a rift in that particular relationship?’ Harper asked, and then cocked his head before adding, ‘Was she worried about your obsession with the Petersons?’
‘You’d have to ask her that,’ Sam answered, too quickly to see the trap.
‘We will,’ Harper replied with a satisfied smile. ‘But it’s good to hear that at least you recognize your obsession – which wasn’t only limited to Jasmine, was it?’
Sunday 31 May 2015
Sam pressed his chin against his chest as he concentrated on pushing the mower steadily down the length of the garden towards the house, careful to keep in line with the neat stripe of newly cut grass he had already made. He had wanted to begin the task hours ago but knew his neighbours might have taken exception to being woken up by the buzz of a lawn mower on a lazy, hazy Sunday morning. Even at ten o’clock, he suspected some would think it too early. He looked towards the house for signs of life. The curtains were still drawn on the ground floor, but as he cast his gaze higher, he spotted Anna sitting on the ledge of his bedroom window with a cup of coffee in her hand, wrapped in nothing but an old shirt she had taken from his wardrobe. Her smile warmed his heart more than the sun on his back.
She had transformed his life in such a short space of time. His previous existence had been little more than a long list of chores with his future laid out like a to-do-list. When he wasn’t working, either in his official and unofficial capacity, Sam helped Selina with jobs around the house and if she didn’t need anything doing then he had been known to extend the offer to her friends. The time he had left was focused on either running or sketching.
That wasn’t to say that he was completely comfortable with his newly acquired social life. He tried to tell himself he was out of practice and it would take time to adapt, but there was more to it than that – there always was. Anna was distracting him from the memories that might otherwise haunt him, but rather than a blessing, it made him feel guilty. He deserved to live with the pain.
Sam reached the edge of the lawn and promptly did a U-turn before steering the mower across the next strip of grass waiting to be cut to within an inch of its life. He could feel Anna’s eyes boring into him. She was unlike any woman he had ever met. Kirsten had been calm and considered, a mirror image of Sam in many ways, whereas Anna came across as not only sure of herself but of him, too. He could feel himself being swept along by her enthusiasm for the potential of their relationship. Unlike Sam, she wasn’t interested in the past. Yes, they both had histories, but she looked only to the future and was helping Sam lift his head to the horizon too.
When he turned the mower again, he looked up to find Selina standing on the decking area that ran the full length of the house. The old lady was bent double, with one hand banging desperately against her chest. Sam was horrified to see her face contorted and tears flowing down her cheeks. He cut off the engine and was about to rush over, then stopped himself. He had to wait a full minute for his landlady to compose herself and bring the gales of laughter under control.
Sam scratched his chin as he waited, which only made the old lady crease up again. ‘Stop it!’ she cried, wiping the tears from her eyes. ‘Oh, Sam, you’re such a sight!’
Clenching his jaw and refusing to even smile, Sam asked, ‘Why? What’s wrong with you, woman?’
Selina bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry, really I am. You look …’ There was another burst of laughter. She took a deep breath. ‘You just look so different without a beard.’
Sam glared at her but couldn’t wipe the smile from her face.
‘I suppose we have Anna to thank for that,’ she said, still giggling.
‘I practically had to lock him in the bathroom,’ Anna said.
She had appeared from the house behind Selina and the two women smiled at each other. ‘He looks so young without it,’ Selina said, then started breaking up again. ‘That’s it! He looks baby-faced!’
‘He has this hang up about me being ten years younger – but look at him now, you’d never guess the age gap, would you?’
Selina came towards Sam and put her weathered hand softly against his cheek. ‘He’s like a new man.’
‘So what was so wrong with the old one?’ he said.
The off-the-cuff comment hung in the air as the old lady held his gaze. ‘He wasn’t the real you,’ she said. ‘He was just someone to help you forget the person you were and could be again.’
‘What did she mean?’ Anna asked when Selina had disappeared into the house, promising to make them a cooked breakfast to give them some energy for the run they were planning later that afternoon: Anna’s promise to go out for a leisurely jog with him had been part of the negotiations for Sam’s traumatic shave. She wasn’t keen on exercise, but she had wanted to please him, just as he had wanted to please her the night before.
‘Oh, pay no attention to her. I think she was a white witch in a previous life.’
‘And what were you in your previous life, Sam? A devoted husband who should never have given into his midlife crisis and walked out on his wife?’
For a moment, Sam was stunned. Anna had been inquisitive about the break-up of his marriage but hadn’t pushed him on the matter. Had she thought that shaving off his beard would reveal a little more of the man beneath? What she didn’t – and couldn’t – know was that his wife of fifteen years had already tried and failed to break through the outer shell he had acquired in his later years. Anna didn’t stand a chance, but he could at least allay one of her fears. ‘I’m not still in love with Kirsten, if that’s what you were wondering.’
Anna was still wearing his shirt, her bare legs exposed and her toes digging into the sun-warmed decking. For someone who came across as so confident, she looked suddenly vulnerable. ‘Yes, I suppose
