The Way We Were (33 page)

Ben was being secretive and Alice was worrying. He kept going out to make phone calls and snapping his laptop shut when she came into the room. He had a glint in his eye and seemed particularly happy and upbeat.

Since the night they’d had sex in the bath, Alice had seen Ben in a different light. She’d stopped looking at him as a man who had lived through two years of trauma and needed to be nursed back to health and started seeing him as a strong, capable man. The man he used to be.

The sex had been good, really good. He had caught her completely by surprise and taken control. She’d felt dominated, but in a very sexy way. She hadn’t had time to think or tense up or worry about not enjoying it or comparing Ben to Dan. It was fun and hot and she’d felt their bodies come together like they used to. It had been familiar and different. Ben’s body was more like the old Ben’s too. He was less thin and fragile. He was stronger and sturdier. She wasn’t afraid he’d break. It had reminded her of old times.

But since that night Ben had pulled back. He’d seemed preoccupied all the time and hadn’t tried to have sex with her again. She was worried that he was becoming distant and uninterested in her. Now that Ben wasn’t trying to have sex with her, she wanted him more.

When she arrived at the surgery on Friday morning, Kevin was waiting for her at the door. He handed her a coffee.

‘Thanks. So what does today look like?’ Alice asked.

Kevin didn’t answer.

‘Kevin?’

‘What?’ He jumped. ‘What is it?’

‘I just asked about the patients we have today.’

‘Oh, uhm … well …’

‘What’s going on with everyone today?’ Alice asked. ‘The girls were all jittery this morning, too.’

‘Okay, sit down, Alice.’

‘Oh, Jesus, is it bad news?’

‘What? No!’ Kevin smiled. ‘It’s good news. You have no patients today. You are booked in for a hair appointment at nine thirty. Then we are going home to pack. You will be picked up at eleven thirty and taken to St Pancras, where you will get the Eurostar to Paris.’

Alice was totally confused. What was he talking about?

‘Ben’s taking you to Paris, on a little trip down Memory Lane.’

‘I don’t understand. Why didn’t he just tell me?’

‘He wanted it to be a surprise and he wants you to have time on the train, alone, to read this.’ Kevin held up a beautifully wrapped package.

‘I hate surprises.’

‘I know you do, but, Alice,’ Kevin put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes, ‘for once in your life, go with it. Stop thinking and just feel. Trust your heart.’

Kevin put the package back into his bag and led Alice out of the surgery to the salon.

As the car drew up outside the house, Alice picked up her suitcase, then put it down again. Turning to her brother she
said, ‘Thanks for absolutely everything. You are the best brother a girl could wish for.’

‘Stop, you’ll make me cry and I am not going on a date with puffy eyes.’

‘It seems to be going well with this guy.’

Kevin shrugged. ‘So far, so good. Now go to Paris and enjoy yourself.’

‘I’m scared,’ Alice said.

‘I know. Ben’s an amazing man and you’re an incredible woman. You’ve both been to Hell and back, but you made it. Whatever happens, you’ll both be okay. Ben’s a survivor and so are you. Just do what feels right for you. Stop overthinking everything. Go with your gut and trust your heart.’

‘I love you.’

‘Ditto. Now get your arse into that car.’

Alice sat back in the first-class train compartment and pulled out the package. She was afraid. She put it down on the table and studied it. She sipped her champagne and tried to calm her nerves. ‘Trust your heart,’ Kevin had said – what was expected of her from all this?

With shaking hands she carefully undid the wrapping. Inside was a book. On the front was a photo of Alice on her wedding day, laughing into the camera. Her eyes shone with pure joy. The title of the book, in thick silver lettering, was
THE WAY WE WERE
.

Alice opened the cover and was transported back to her first date with Ben. David had taken a grainy photo of them kissing in the corner at a party and there it was, reminding her of that very first kiss. The pages took her through their courtship, graduations, wedding, honeymoon, pregnancy, the birth of Jools and Holly, moving into the old house, then the new house, photos of their parents, their friends, their workplace,
their parties, their birthdays, Christmases, Hallowe’ens, holidays … The memories jumped off the pages. They showed her a life full of happiness, joy and love.

In every photo Alice was smiling, laughing or looking adoringly at her husband or her children.

The final two pages of the book were two letters on opposite sides, facing each other. Alice gasped. One was the letter she had written to Ben and buried under the tree. She knew Ben had retrieved it, but she had never wanted to see it again. Now she read it and remembered, feeling once again the pain and heartbreak that she had poured out onto the page.

On the other page was a letter dated ‘Christmas 2013 – 14 months in captivity’. It was a letter Ben had written to her in Eritrea.

My darling Alice,

I’m writing this letter while chained to a tree. The idea of spending a second Christmas here without you and the girls is excruciating. I want you to know that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not listening to you. I’m sorry for putting myself in a dangerous position that has now caused so much pain. I’m sorry for being a selfish git and thinking I needed more adventure in life. I’m sorry for not realizing that I had it all. I had everything a man could possibly want – a beautiful wife I adore, two wonderful daughters, a happy home. I’m sorry for not telling you how much I love you every day. I’m sorry for not appreciating you more. I’m sorry for not telling you how proud I am of you and what a wonderful mother, wife and doctor you are. I’m sorry for being dismissive of Kevin, who is so important to you and the only family you have left. I can see now how much you need him and what an important person he is in your life, how kind and generous he is to you and the girls. I’m sorry for not helping you more. I’m sorry for not being the husband you deserve.

I swear to you that if I get out of this hell-hole, I will be a better man. I’ll treasure you and I will never leave your side. I promise I will be a better father, more involved, more affectionate, more present. I will love you the way you deserve to be loved – completely, unconditionally and passionately.

If for some reason I don’t make it, Declan has promised to deliver this letter to you. I want you to know this – meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me. I loved you from that very first date, when you made fun of my floppy hair. I love your smile, your sense of fun, your sense of humour. I love the way you never take yourself seriously. I love the way you throw your head back when you’re laughing and that you laugh loud and free. I love the way you cry unashamedly at films. I love the way you chew your lip when you’re concentrating. I love the way you feel passionately about so many things – even The X Factor!

Thank you, Alice. Thank you for coming into my life. Thank you for being my rock when my mother died. Thank you for giving me our two magnificent daughters. Thank you for putting up with my difficult father. Thank you for being the best person in the world to go through life with. Thank you for being my best friend, my lover, my cheerleader and my wife. I am so proud to be your husband. Thank you for saying yes when I asked you to marry me. I love you, Alice, with all my heart. I love you in this life and I will love you in the next.

Ben

Alice sobbed loudly into the little cocktail napkin that had come with her champagne. People were staring at her, but she couldn’t stop the tears. Eventually an older lady sitting across the aisle came over to her.

‘Madame, are you all right? Can I ’elp you?’

Alice wiped her nose. ‘I’m fine, thank you. I’d just
forgotten. I’d forgotten all of it. I blocked it out so I could survive and move on. But now … well … now I remember and it’s just really … really … sad …’ Alice collapsed in tears as the woman patted her gently on the back.

The car drew up in front of the Hôtel Petit Maurice on rue du Bac in St Germain. The driver came around to her door and opened it. ‘ ’Ere we are, Madame.’

Alice climbed out and stood in front of the hotel. In the many years since she’d been there, it hadn’t changed. It was the same quaint, charming, slightly rundown place they’d stayed in to celebrate their engagement.

The receptionist rushed out to greet her and made a great fuss of taking her bags upstairs.

‘Is my husband here?’ Alice asked.

‘Yes, but ’e ’ad to go out to arrange some things.’

Alice looked around the room for signs of Ben. There were none. This was a separate room. What was going on?

‘Monsieur Gregory ask me to give this to you.’ The receptionist handed her an envelope.

Alice sat down on the bed and opened it. Inside was a map of Paris with three destinations, marked 1, 2 and 3.

There was a note attached: ‘Go to number 1 at 6 p.m.’

Alice had a shower and applied concealer to her puffy eyes and make-up to her red face. She got dressed in the outfit Kevin had chosen for her – a cream dress with a navy waistband and a navy cardigan to wear over it. Kevin said it was fresh, pretty but sexy, too, because of the side slit.

Alice nervously put on a third layer of lipstick and looked at her watch. Time to go. She got into a taxi and pulled up close to the square du Vert-Galant. It was when she saw the weeping willows that she remembered. Ben had brought her there on a picnic all those years ago.

She’d been to Paris before with her parents. She’d even been to Île de la Cité, but she’d never visited this park. Ben had read about it being romantic and he’d suggested they go there. They’d sat under the weeping willows by the Seine and marvelled at the stunning view. You could see the Louvre and the Pont des Arts. Alice looked down at her instructions. It told her to look for the pink-and-white checked rug. She saw it to the left. In the middle of the rug there was a mini bottle of champagne and a glass with an envelope attached:
Drink this and watch the river.

Alice sat down on the rug in the warm spring sun and poured herself a glass of champagne. She felt nervous, excited and afraid. She tried to do what Kevin had said, switch off her mind and just enjoy the moment. As she sipped her drink, she remembered lying there with Ben. They had lain on the grass all afternoon, talking and planning their future. So carefree, so full of hope and aspirations, so clueless about what life was really going to be like.

Alice leant back on her elbows and watched the boats sailing down the Seine. They had been so naïve, young and happy. That’s what she remembered most – happiness. It was before her parents had died, before children had come along and mortgages, bills, responsibilities, mid-life crisis and Eritrea.

Something caught Alice’s eye. It was a boat with a huge sign:
Two Can Play That Game, Alice!
The boat was playing the Bobby Brown song as it passed by.

Alice sat bolt upright as it all came rushing back. It was the first song she and Ben had danced to. She could picture Ben now, dancing around the tiny apartment, all arms and legs, bumping into the other guests and knocking over their drinks. She had loved how Ben danced – as if no one was watching, completely uninhibited, which seemed at odds
with his stiff English upbringing and made it even more charming.

Alice got up and ran down to the water’s edge. People around tut-tutted about the loud pop song, but Alice sang along.

The boat was soon out of sight and Alice suddenly felt very alone. She was on the sidelines, looking on. It was how things had been lately, she thought. She’d become more of an observer and less of a participant.

Alice walked slowly back to the rug and glanced down at her instructions. It was time to move on to the second place. She strolled back through the park and got another taxi, which brought her to the place Saint-Germain-des-Prés, to Les Deux Magots, as instructed. As she approached the café, the manager came over to her and led her to a table at the side of the terrace. There, waiting for her, was a glass of chilled Sancerre and a large chocolate éclair.

There was a note under her plate:
Last time, we shared one. You deserve a whole one. Bon appétit!

Alice dug her fork into the éclair and savoured the chocolate mousse filling. It was delicious. She remembered arguing with Ben over the last piece and how he had pretended to eat it, only to pop it into her mouth at the last moment.

Alice hadn’t eaten an éclair in years, possibly decades. It tasted so good. She could feel the alcohol and the chocolate relaxing her. She sat back and watched the people at the other tables – couples kissing, couples arguing, groups of friends talking animatedly about something, tourists bent over maps, children eating ice-creams … and she, Alice, a woman sitting alone, trying to figure out what the future held.

As she sat contemplating, a violinist came and stood
beside her. She thought she recognized the music, but she couldn’t place it. What was that song?

‘Oh, my God, Brad, that guy’s playing Madonna’s “Get Into The Groove”!’ an American woman at the table behind her said.

Alice looked up, and the violinist winked at her. It was her favourite song. She began to laugh. How had Ben done this? It was incredible. Alice forgot her inhibitions and sang along. When the musician finished, he kissed her hand. ‘
Bonne chance
, Madame. Your ’usband is a very romantic man. But hees choice in music is terrible.’

Alice grinned and waved him goodbye. She asked for the bill, but instead she received another note:
Be at the Pont des Arts at 7.55 p.m. sharp.

Alice got out of the taxi and walked up to the bridge. It was where Ben had proposed to her. She hadn’t hesitated, just thrown her arms around him and said yes. She’d known he was ‘the one’. She had been so sure, so positive. Not even a second of doubt had crossed her mind. Oh, to be that girl again. Alice hadn’t been sure of anything in a long time.