right now.’ I sighed and looked away, across the café. A young couple were leaning towards each other, smiling into each other’s eyes. I felt a wave of sadness. When had Alex and I last looked at each other like that? I couldn’t even remember. He’d never been particularly romantic anyway. Even in the early days, he’d preferred staring at a spreadsheet than into my eyes. It never occurred to me to mind; I thought he was much too grown-up and sensible to bother with such things. After all the beer-swilling lads at university, Alex had been a breath of fresh air. He already had a career at a bank, lived on his own in a flat and drove a flash car. Not that these things were particularly high on my list of priorities, but he seemed so sorted; so safe. He epitomised security. ‘Anyway, Rachel, why are you trying to convince me to stay in this relationship? You don’t even like Alex, do you?’
‘Well, no,’ she admitted, ‘but I don’t want to start slagging him off only for you to decide you’re going to stay with him for ever and ever and resent me for all the things I said.’
‘Oh,’ I frowned. ‘I didn’t realise you hated him that much. I just thought you found him boring.’
Rachel laughed. ‘I’m joking. I don’t really hate him. But he is a bit dull, and you know I’ll support you no matter what.’
I smiled at her and sighed. ‘Well, you’re right. I haven’t made my mind up about anything yet.’
‘Are you worried about the flat?’
‘Not at all. It’s his flat. I’d just walk away. But it seems like such a backwards step to go back to my parents’ house.’
‘Come and live with me!’
‘You’ve only got the one bedroom and you’ve got this new man in your life. How’s it going with Patrick anyway?’
‘Pretty good, actually.’ Rachel’s face lit up and she went pink. She looked as glamorous as ever today. Her dark red hair was swept up off her face in a chic up-do, and she was wearing a vintage green dress that matched her eyes. Her winged eyeliner and red lipstick were immaculate, despite a long day working in her florist’s shop.
‘Ooh, tell me more!’
She shrugged, looking coy. ‘He’s taking me away for the weekend. To Paris.’
‘Paris? Wow!’
‘Yes!’ she squealed with excitement, clutching my hand. ‘We’re spending this weekend with Gemma, his little girl.’
‘Ah, lovely! How old is she again?’
‘Just four. She’s so cute.’
‘What about the mum?’
‘Remarried, so no problems there.’
‘Well, that sounds wonderful.’
‘I know!’ Her smile faded and she looked at me sadly. ‘Oh, but I’m sorry if that sounds smug when you’re having problems with Alex.’
‘Not at all. In fact, you should have stopped me droning on and told me your happy news instead.’
‘Don’t be silly. You know I’m always here if you ever need to talk. And if you need my help packing up or anything…’
A shard of fear pierced my stomach and I flapped a hand. ‘Thanks. It’ll probably blow over though. I’m probably premenstrual or something and he’s stressed at work. I’m just letting off steam. We’ll sort it out.’
Rachel’s brow creased in concern. ‘I don’t think so, Elena. If your heart’s telling you to get out, you need to get out. Life’s too short to spend it with the wrong man.’
Forcing a smile, I glanced down at my watch. ‘I ought to go, actually. I’ve still got to go food shopping.’
Rachel pulled a face. ‘At least it will be quiet at this time. It was bedlam when I went on Saturday.’
I smiled and finished off my tea before reaching for my bag. ‘It’s great to catch up,’ I said.
‘I know, although I wish we’d had more time to talk.’ Rachel looked troubled as she got to her feet. ‘We’ll have to make a night of it. Maybe next week?’
‘Yes, that’ll be great.’ I smiled as I hooked my bag over my shoulder.
Weaving my way through the tables to the exit, I stepped out into the early evening sunshine. It had been raining on and off all day, and the spring air was fresh and cool. I drew it deep into my lungs.
Rachel gave me a Chanel-scented hug and kissed me on the cheek. ‘Call me if you need anything,’ she said, before turning to walk off up the street.
The supermarket was pretty quiet and I whizzed round with my basket, picking up fruit and vegetables, bread and milk. I didn’t need much; just a few essentials. I was through the tills in no time. I was going to take the stairs up to the car park, but as I was passing the lift, its doors slid open, practically inviting me inside. I looked at it for a moment before stepping in and selecting the floor I needed on the keypad. I wasn’t keen on lifts as a rule, but at least it was empty.
Then, just as the doors were about to close, a man slipped through with an apologetic smile. I smiled back and had a quick rummage in my shopping bags. I was sure I’d forgotten something. Tin foil. Damn, I should have got tin foil.
The man pressed a button on the control panel and stared straight ahead as the lift doors closed. I’d always found it awkward, being in a lift with a complete stranger. When I was a child and shopping with my mum, she’d try to talk to people in lifts and I’d roll my eyes and huff, embarrassed by her nervous chatter. These days, however, I had to fight the urge to do the same, as though standing in silence was somehow hostile and unfriendly.
There was a pause and the lift doors opened again, but we hadn’t moved from the ground floor. The man tutted and stabbed the keypad with his index finger once more. I glanced across at him as the doors slid closed again. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but I couldn’t think where I knew him from. I looked at him from out of the corner of my eye as the lift shuddered and started to move. The grinding noise and the shaking didn’t bother me at first. It was a pretty old lift, after all. When it jolted to a sudden stop, I stepped forward, expecting the doors to ping open and reveal the car park.
The doors stayed closed.
‘Erm…?’
I stared at the dull metal doors for a moment before turning to look at the man. He raised an eyebrow, then looked up at the roof and around the lift. My heart stopped.
It was him. It was Daniel Moore!
I didn’t know what to do; I didn’t know how to feel. Emotions warred within me. I was delighted and horrified. Excited and panicked. Would he recognise me? Would he remember that kiss? What if he didn’t? Would that destroy the memory?
And what if he’d turned into a horrible man? Then my perfect memory would most definitely be ruined.
Panic gripped me. Turning quickly away, I slammed my hand against the door and then beat against it with my fist. Why wouldn’t the damn thing open? I had to get out now.
‘Hold on, calm down,’ he said, a trace of laughter in his voice. It was deeper than I remembered. ‘Maybe it’s just having a moment. I’ll see if it’ll take us to the next floor. Maybe that will work.’ He began pressing each button, one after the other. I watched him over my shoulder. He was wearing a brown woolly jumper, blue jeans and brown boots. He looked bigger than he’d been at college. Taller and broader. His hair was no longer silky soft and long, but cropped short and a darker shade of blond. Was it really him? Maybe I was mistaken.
How long had it been since I’d last seen him? Seven, eight years? My mind must be playing tricks. There was no way it could