Harriet Evans - Going Home

I stared at her in despair. ‘God, you’re awful, aren’t you? Come on, he’s nearly outside. We can go now.’

Gavin, the vicar, was relatively young and trendy. As I passed into the porch I shook his hand and stopped to say hello. Chin drifted off to join the others. ‘It’s Lizzy, isn’t it? I’ve just seen your sister,’ he said.

‘Yes, it is. Happy Christmas, Gavin. That was a lovely service.’

Mrs Kenworthy from the choir brushed past. ‘Sorry, Lizzy. Just getting your uncle Mike a history-of-the-church pamphlet.’

‘Ah – for Rosalie, I suppose,’ I said.

‘Is that his new wife?’ Mrs Kenworthy didn’t sniff, but there was a degree of doubt in her voice.

‘Happy Christmas, Lizzy,’ said Gavin. ‘Well, I hear the carol singers weren’t the only visitors to Keeper House yesterday.’

Rosalie, in her pale pink cashmere coat, was standing nearby, talking politely to Mr Flood, who used to work the Earl of Laughton’s whacking great estate nearby. He’s retired now but must make an absolute fortune; he’s in every single documentary about old agricultural practices, life in a great house before the war, after the war, during the war, and in those village reminiscences that people publish. He’s even thought about getting an agent. The sight of this very old, hairy man grasping the cuffs of his too long shirt in his fists and waving them enthusiastically at the immaculate Rosalie was quite special, and I looked at Gavin, who is perceptive about these things.

‘You’ve met Rosalie, then?’ I said politely.

‘Yes,’ said Gavin, and I knew he understood it was a little strange for us all. ‘But it is the season to be jolly, isn’t it? And to welcome those without shelter into our homes,’ he added, his face pink with pleasure at the relevance of the Christmas message.

‘She’s got an apartment two blocks from Central Park,’ I told him. ‘I don’t call that being without shelter.’

‘People find shelter in different places,’ said Gavin. If he hadn’t been a vicar I might have punched him, but it’s the kind of thing vicars are supposed to say.

‘You’re right. Thanks, Gavin,’ I said.

A voice at my side said, ‘Hello, Lizzy.’

I searched desperately for Chin, and saw all of my family making their way to Uncle Tony’s grave, so I turned and looked up at him. David sodding Eliot, the man who had ripped out my heart and used it as a doormat. He was so tall – I always forgot that.

‘Hello, David,’ I said.

‘Hello, Lizzy,’ he repeated.

It had been such a long time since I’d seen him properly that I’d forgotten little things about him – the tiny scar next to his mouth, the hollow at the base of his neck. How dark his eyes were. I’d tried to remember all this so many times since he’d left, tried so hard to picture what it would be like to have him standing in front of me, and now that he was I almost wanted to laugh with the strange, strange shock of it all.

‘Sparkling conversationalists, aren’t we?’ he said, gazing into my eyes. ‘How are you?’

‘Fine,’ I said, pulling myself together. ‘When did you get back?’

‘The day before yesterday.’

‘From where?’ Of course I knew the answer to this but I wanted to sound as if his movements weren’t of the slightest interest to me.

‘Still New York.’

‘Going well, is it?’

‘Yes, thanks. I’ve seen your uncle Mike a couple of times.’

‘Good,’ I said briskly. ‘Well, give my love to—’

‘So, you’ve met your new aunt,’ said David. ‘That’s a turn-up for the books, isn’t it?’

‘What did you think?’

‘I think she’s nice.’

‘Yes, well,’ I said, glad we were keeping the conversation afloat, ‘I’m not sure about her, but she likes Some Like It Hot , so she can’t be all bad.’

There was an awkward silence. Some Like It Hot was the film we had watched on the night before David left me. Sheesh, it’s a long story, I’ll get to it later.

Tumbleweeds rolled casually by and a church bell tolled mournfully (no, it really did, we were outside the church) David frowned and stared at the gravelled path. People were drifting away – I think. Suddenly I couldn’t think of anything to say that didn’t involve talking about us.

‘How’s Miles? And your mum?’ I asked eventually.

‘Mum’s good, been working hard. Miles is fine, working hard too.’

All the rest of the Eliots were accountants, which I imagined must make for captivating exchanges around the family hearth.

‘They’re over there,’ he said, pointing towards the lychgate. Miles raised his hand in a gesture of greeting. I looked to where my family was standing, staring at us intently, making no attempt to pretend they were thinking solemn thoughts at my uncle’s graveside. Rosalie even waved at David.

Suddenly the spell was broken and I remembered that he’d left me at Heathrow last year on a beautiful spring day, promising to phone every day, to write letters, emails, texts, telegrams, poems, essays and doctorate papers about how much he loved me. I never considered that we might break up. I remembered how his lips felt when he kissed me.

But as I looked at the man who had kissed me with those lips, I remembered he was also the man who, before the first month of our separation was over, had slept with someone else, then dumped me by email. Turns out it’s not such a long story after all. Breezy, be breezier than a sea breeze, I told myself as a wave of enormous sadness washed over me. ‘Well, glad to hear all’s well.’ I wrapped my scarf round my neck. ‘Happy Christmas, David.’ I allowed myself one last glance at him as I turned away. A fat wood-pigeon was cooing loudly in the yew trees skirting the churchyard.

Abruptly, David reached out and grabbed my arm. ‘Tell Mike I’ll be in touch. How is he?’

‘Oh, you know, happy, successful, just closed a big deal, got married – so in quite a bad way, all in all,’ I said, with a feeble attempt at sarcasm.

‘I mean it. Tell him I’ll give him a call. There’s something I want to ask him.’ I felt the warmth of his hand on my arm. He looked at me intently and I could feel his breath on my cheek. ‘Don’t hate me, Lizzy,’ he said. ‘It’s not worth it any more.’

‘I don’t hate you,’ I whispered. ‘Let me go. I don’t want to see you again.’

He released me at once, then caught hold of my hand. ‘I’m sorry. I just – I want to tell you something. I want you to know—’

‘No, David,’ I said. My face flamed. ‘I don’t want to do this again.’

‘I don’t see why not,’ he said. ‘I talked to Miles about it yesterday and I’ve never understood why you wouldn’t give me another chance.’

‘What?’ I said. My throat seemed to be closing up.

‘I made a mistake, but…Come on, Lizzy, isn’t it time you stopped being Miss High and Mighty about it?’

‘How dare you?’

‘You always do this!’ David said, raising his voice. He swallowed hard, trying to bring himself under control. ‘It’s always you who’s the one who’s hurt, who has to be at the centre of attention. Did you ever think about how it affected me? I just hoped you weren’t as selfish as I thought you were. But you were. And you still are.’

Tears welled in my eyes, just as Kate and Alice Eliot appeared beside us. They greeted each other, in unison, as we glared at each other. ‘Well, I want to know something too,’ I said. ‘I want to know how you pulled Lisa in the first place. How soon was it after I’d gone? Or did you fix up a time to meet up for a quick fuck while I was still in the room?’ David’s mother looked totally shocked and she and Kate huddled together like the humble servants in Dangerous Liaisons , watching with trepidation from the sidelines.