Sue Fortin - United States of Love

It felt odd walking through the town centre, side by side. It had been so long since they had done that. Before, Anna would have automatically slipped her arm into his, or he would have put his arm around her shoulders or held her hand, but those days were long gone now. Having said that, Anna had gradually felt herself relax around Mark as the week had gone on. She was still unsettled as to what he was doing back in England, but actually having him physically present wasn't as unnerving as it had been originally. Maybe tonight, on neutral ground, they both might relax even more, and she might be able to wheedle out of Mark why he was here.

The restaurant in South Street was busy but they managed to get a table. There was plenty of noise and a good atmosphere, which would help fill any awkward silences between the two of them, Anna thought. But she needn't have worried, she realised, as the conversation flowed pretty easily, although Mark seemed to be asking most of the questions and avoiding talking about himself and America. The conversation had started off very generally, almost politely, as they talked about how much new housing was being built around Chichester, the recession, Luke, his school and, of course, in true British style, the weather.

‘Talking of the weather,’ said Mark, ‘do you remember that time we went camping, when Luke was about three or four? We went to Cornwall.’

‘Oh, will I ever forget it,’ chuckled Anna. ‘I've never known so much rain. I thought tents were supposed to be waterproof.’

‘They are, except someone didn't zip it up properly and left all my clothes by the door.’

‘That wasn't me!’ she exclaimed, laughing at the memory. ‘Oh, but weren't they soaking that morning? Every single thing was dripping wet. Oh God, and then Luke did a wee on your sleeping bag. Do you remember?’ Anna was really giggling now. At the time, Mark had been horrified.

‘How can I forget? He must have been saving that wee up all night. It soaked straight through the bag.’ Mark was laughing too.

‘It was such a horrendous night that we packed up and came home the next day.’ Anna was shaking her head and still grinning at the memory.

‘We were so Ray Mears, weren't we?’ said Mark smiling at her.

‘See, I told you that one day we would laugh about it.’ Anna was aware that she had had too much to drink. She wasn't really sure how much, as Mark had just kept topping her glass up. Time to abandon caution she thought, it was now or never.

‘Mark,’ she began, nervously twiddling the stem of the wine glass in front of her. ‘What are you really doing back here?’ She looked up at him for a response but he just looked back at her, studying her face, as if he was deciding whether to tell her something or not. Anna raised her eyebrows questioningly. ‘Well?’

‘Well…’ Mark moved his hand across the table until his fingers were touching the base of the wine glass Anna was still fiddling with. ‘Let's go home. I'll explain there, where it's more private and less noisy.’ He stroked the tip of her finger with his.

Somewhere at the back of her mind she knew her sensible voice was telling her to move her hand away, however, it appeared the hand was ignoring the distant advice. Her hand stayed exactly where it was, letting Mark's fingers slide the glass away to hold her hand fully.

‘Can I get you anything else? Sir? Madam?’ The waitress broke the silence, and Anna felt herself snap out from the spell she was under. Feeling flustered, she snatched her hand away from Mark's. The wine was sure making it difficult to think straight. Coffee. Yes, that was what she needed.

‘Can I have a coffee please? Black. Strong.’ Hopefully, that would sort her out a bit as she felt decidedly squiffy.

Despite the coffee, Anna didn't feel much better when they left the restaurant. Her brain and feet seemed to be having trouble communicating effectively.

‘Steady,’ laughed Mark, catching Anna's arm as she stumbled on the path. ‘Here, hold onto me. Big deep breaths. That's it. Come on, let's get you home.’

Anna had to admit that linking her arm with Mark's was making the art of walking slightly easier. A pair of flat shoes would have made it even more so.

Anna dropped back onto the sofa and unzipped her boots, relieved Mark had managed to get her home in one piece.

‘Here, let me,’ said Mark, kneeling down and gently pulling each of her boots off in turn.

Anna put her head back into the headrest and closed her eyes. It felt like her brain was swaying all on its own to the James Blunt track You're Beautiful that Mark had just put on. She was aware that Mark had sat down on the sofa beside her, but she kept her eyes closed and hummed to the music. Mark began humming too, which was most unlike him. She opened one eye and glimpsed sideways at him, sitting back in the same position as her. He looked at her and a big grin spread across his face. They looked at each other for a second and then they both burst out laughing.

‘Stop it,’ Anna grinned. ‘If I didn't know you better, I'd think you were taking the mickey out of me.’ She gave him a playful tap on the arm.

Mark caught her hand in his. ‘As if I'd do a thing like that.’

There, her hand was doing it again; it wasn't paying any attention to the warnings. Her hand was certainly being defiant. Anna closed her eyes again but opened them as Mark lifted her hand to his lips.

For a second, all the years of heartache fell away and a brief image of them on their wedding day, happy and smiling, flitted in front of her. Love and treachery went hand in hand with Mark, as immediately this image was replaced with the memory of his betrayal. This was certainly a sobering thought, in more ways than one.

Quietly and with an apologetic smile, Anna withdrew her hand. Mark gave a resigned half smile.

‘You're probably right,’ he said softly.

Anna nodded, shifting slightly in her seat to face him, resting her head on her hand.

‘Why are you back, Mark?’

Anna awoke the next morning with a thumping headache. It felt as if the whole cast of Riverdance were performing in her head, and her mouth tasted like it had an old sock stuck in it. It was a few seconds before she remembered the events of the previous evening. She groaned inwardly as she began to put together fragmented memories that came to mind, not necessarily in the order of events, but it didn't take her long before she got to that moment on the sofa with Mark.

‘Shit,’ she said aloud as she remembered him saying that he had come back for her. That he missed her, and could they possibly give things another try? It had poleaxed her. She hadn't known what to say, but somehow through the haze of the alcohol she had managed some clarity and had suggested they talk about it when they were both sober. Okay, she was buying time, but she needed headspace.

She reached over for her mobile and saw a message from Luke. It had come in last night, after she had gone to bed. A simple message saying goodnight and that he loved her. Anna sent one back, asking if he was okay, and to let her know if he needed picking up later.

Tentatively, Anna swung her feet onto the floor. She needed a cup of tea. It was then she remembered she was supposed to be taking her nephews out that morning. ‘Oh no,’ she groaned, but knew she couldn’t let Zoe down.

Pulling on her dressing gown and making her way downstairs, Anna was relieved to find Mark had already left. She didn't want to face him yet.

Zoe opened the front door to a rather delicate looking Anna.

‘Blimey, you actually look worse than me,’ Zoe croaked through her soggy tissue. She stood to one side to let Anna come in. ‘I take it whatever you ended up doing, you had a good night?’