Jake said she’s mad and I believe him. Mad with revenge and imagined lesions.

‘How could I possibly have had anything to do with… with…’ After all those years I still can’t bring myself to speak his name.

‘Max,’ she says. ‘Your lover.’ She lifts her handbag from the floor and snaps it open. ‘We all have our own versions of the truth, Nadine.’ She flings an envelope on the table. It’s small, letter-sized, no address. She stands and brushes imaginary crumbs from her skirt. ‘Don’t ever threaten me again with groundless accusations. A betrayed wife is pathetic but one with a history like yours has even less credibility. Go to the police if you want to make a fool of yourself. I fucked your husband senseless and you could charge me with that. However, last time I checked, adultery was not a criminal offence in the statute books.’

Her words rebound off me. They are visceral and should hurt but all I feel is fear. I open the envelope after she leaves and draw out a photocopied sheet of paper. I see the replication of the original, the dark squiggle of the serrated spiral-bound journal I once used to spill out my heart. I should flitter it, allow it to be swept away with the remnants of bread and half-eaten cakes but I read it, knowing, as I do so, that the contents will bring me face-to-face with my fifteen-year-old self.

Dear Max

This is the first love letter I’ve ever written. It will never be seen by anyone but me. I’d die, simply die a million deaths if Karin found out or Joan or you… God! That would be so embarrassing. I’m all mixed up and so excited. Like I’m on a swing swooping high and low.

The words blur. I can’t read any more. The waiter hesitates then removes Karin’s cup and saucer. The stain on the rim of her cup matches the lipstick stain she imprinted on Jake’s cheek. She stole my love letters, searched my room in Cowrie Cottage, my clothing, my books, my backpack, searched every corner until she found them pushed deep into the lining of my anorak. What possessed me to write such reckless letters? I try and connect with the teenager I once was. So beguiled and naïve, so utterly self-absorbed, a sylph transiently innocent and dangerous with it. Yes, I’ve seen Ali’s play. A satirical tale of good against evil. The eternal struggle.

She still has the original. I stare out the window and count the pedestrians passing below. I note the clothes they wear, and how a man on crutches, his leg in plaster, stops to light a cigarette. Finally, she appears, striding briskly towards Grafton Street. The wind tosses her scarf, blue, of course, and fluttering like a pennant in the midst of a battle charge.

When all evidence of her presence at the table has been removed I order a fresh pot of tea and continue reading. My handwriting slanted to the right in those days. I tended to add flourishes to the letters at the end of my words, and a small circle, rather than a dot, over my ‘I’s.

This morning you watched me on Monsheelagh Bay. Just you and me alone on the beach. We saw the dawn rise. I wasn’t in love with you then. Just kind of embarrassed and unable to think of things to say. You were sitting on the rocks. I had to walk past you. You were still Karin’s father then. The air smelled briny and there was a haze on the sea. I was going to sketch the kittiwakes. I’d seen them from the bedroom window flying against the cliff.

‘What’s this,’ you said when you saw me. You pretended to be surprised. ‘I thought it was a teenage rule never to rise before noon when you’re on holidays.’

I told you I always walk early and you said, ‘Then walk on, Nadine. It’s a beautiful morning. Make the most of it.’

I went far along the strand but I could still see you sitting there when I looked back. Were you watching me too? I didn’t understand why that should matter, not then. I sat on the sand. The kittiwakes were going crazy like dive bombers. I did lots of sketches. The haze was gone from the sea and the tide was way out. I pulled off my sandals on the way back and the wet sand squished between my toes. I walked really slow to give you a chance to go back to the cottage if you didn’t want to talk to me.

‘You must be famished,’ you said when I reached you. ‘How does scrambled eggs and mushrooms sound?’

‘Delicious,’ I said. It was true. I was absolutely starving.

‘Then let’s go.’ You jumped down from the rocks and climbed ahead of me up the cliff path.

You were frying mushrooms in butter and I was scrambling the eggs when I fell in love with you. Just like that. God! I never knew that’s how it happened. Then Karin came into the kitchen and spoiled everything. She’s so small yet it’s like she fills the place when she’s in a mood. It’s always… always about her. Being her friend is exhausting!! I knew I was in trouble when she looked at the table. You’d only set it for 2. When she saw the sand we’d tracked across the floor her eyes went really narrow. You didn’t notice.

‘Set another place, Nadine,’ you said. ‘Scrambled eggs for 3 coming up.’

I was going to tell her how I’d only gone to the beach to sketch the birds but you said, ‘We saw the dawn together. You could have been with us if you weren’t such a lazybones in the mornings.’

You were only teasing her but you’ve no idea what she’s like when she gets into a sulk.

‘Look at the mess you made.’ She grabbed the brush and started sweeping the sand and stirring all the dust.

You tossed the mushrooms onto a plate and put it on the table. The toast popped and the eggs were ready. But she said she wasn’t hungry. Her bottom lip went out the way it does when she’s mad. You took the sweeping brush from her and stopped her going back to her bedroom. It was like she was a bird when you lifted her up in the air and carried her over to the table.

‘I want to have breakfast with my special girl,’ you said. ‘So sit down and keep your old man company. I want to know about everything you’ve been doing since I went away.’

She was really nice at breakfast but she came into my bedroom afterwards and accused me of monopolising you last night and this morning. You’d think I’d planned to meet you deliberately when you were so late coming here.

Were you watching me on the beach? Or were you thinking of Joan and how drunk she was last night. Living with her must be really hard.

I think I’m going crazy, Max.

Is this what love is like?

Nadine XXXXXX

Chapter 51

Jake

Eleanor was moved from the high dependency unit into a private ward. She cried easily and fell asleep in the middle of conversations. All perfectly normal, her specialist assured Jake. Her recovery process was gradual but consistent. Cora was the only member of First Affiliation allowed to visit her. She would move in with Eleanor when she was discharged and look after her. Eleanor’s acceptance that she needed care amazed Jake. He waited for the return of her old assertiveness but she remained serene, even when she heard that Lorna Mason had been elected leader of First Affiliation.

Her tears fell when she saw Ali, who had flown home on an overnight trip. Three weeks had passed since her stroke and she was struggling determinedly through the painful rehabilitation sessions. Ali pulled tissues from the box on the bedside locker and gently dabbed her eyes.

‘It’s my first chance to come and see you, Gran,’ she said. ‘But Mum’s been keeping me up to date on everything.’

‘Is she in a…a….tin?’ Her inability to remember words would improve, Jake had been told.