Page 36 of A Clean Sweep

With a cup of coffee in one hand and her books in another, Susan weaved her way through the other customers scrutinising the shelves and tables piled high with reading material.

There was a free Chesterfield just ahead if no-one beat her to it.

Damn! She was almost there when a male figure rounded the opposite corner and plonked himself down.

Cursing under her breath, Susan swivelled around in search of somewhere else to sit.

Then swivelled back again, coffee slopping over the saucer.

It couldn't be … could it? After all these years, it was impossible .

As she stared in open-mouthed disbelief, the chair thief raised his head and stared back at her.

Before Susan could find words in her paralysed throat, he got to his feet and stood before her.

Observing that her hand was shaking and threatening to tip the entire contents of the cup on the floor, he gently removed it and placed it on the small side table.

She clasped her books to her chest, feeling her heart thudding beneath them.

'Susan. It really is you. For a second I thought I was hallucinating.

Or had accidentally slipped through some cosmic time warp.

It's been – what – twenty years? Such a long time.

How are you? God, this is totally surreal.

Although I should have known the one place I'd be most likely to bump into you would be a bookshop! '

Aware she was still gawping like a deranged goldfish, Susan put down her books and reached out her hand.

Jonathan ignored the polite gesture and pulled her towards him and into a giant hug.

Feeling the heat rising in her cheeks she succumbed for a moment then pulled away.

The feel of his body so close to hers brought back powerful memories she felt unable to process right now .

'Yes, it's really me. This is so weird. Gosh, you haven't changed a bit. How come you're here, of all places? I thought you'd moved away?'

After their split – or rather, her rejection of him – Susan had heard on the grapevine that he'd packed in his job and relocated somewhere up north. Manchester or Birmingham, she couldn't remember. He'd written to her a few times but she'd never replied and eventually the letters had stopped.

'I've been in Salford working with a chartered surveyor firm since I left, but I was headhunted for a job back here four months ago and decided it was too good to turn down. Plus, deep down I always missed this place, so it was great to come back. I did think of trying to contact you but …'

His words tailed off, those familiar hazel eyes studying her intently.

Susan felt her pulse quicken again as she took in his appearance.

He really hadn't changed, aside from a slightly receding hairline and a few creases around the eyes.

Just as handsome as always, still capable of creating butterflies in her stomach. Even after two decades and …

'So, what's new? Sorry, that's a seriously dumb question.

I'm sure a lot has changed since— ‘Susan didn't know how to finish her sentence so let it hang in the air, laden with meaning and regret. No doubt he had met someone else, probably very soon after she’d treated him so badly.

Men like Jonathan weren't meant to sit on a shelf gathering dust. Unlike herself, even if she had recently vowed to embrace a whole new world.

She just didn't envisage a man in it. Ever.

'Look, this place is packed, your coffee's history – Susan glanced at the half-empty and rapidly cooling cup – and we have a heap of catching up to do. Why don't we buy what we mean to buy then find somewhere else to play Twenty Questions? Sound OK to you?'

Despite having barely glanced at the books, Susan paid for them, Jonathan waiting patiently by her side.

He'd picked up a guide to the best cycling routes in Europe – ‘Yes, I am still a bike devotee, once a nerd always a nerd!

' – and they'd strolled a couple of doors down to a quieter spot with a free table in the window.

Order taken, Jonathan had leaned back in his chair, a playful grin on his ever-youthful face.

'Right, who's going to start?' He held out an imaginary microphone which Susan smacked away.

She'd forgotten – no, had pushed down into a hidden vault marked do not open – how easy it had been with him.

How relaxed, how natural it had seemed.

Until she had forced him away, carried on a tidal wave of her own self-loathing.

' You start! My life's been totally tedious. I don't want you nodding off while I try to drink this cup of coffee before it's stone cold.'

Jonathan had laughed, that wonderful from-the-belly laugh she'd dreamt of even after the years had passed and she'd found very little humour in her humdrum existence.

'Me? Well, truth be told, I don't think they'll be queueing up to turn my story into a Hollywood blockbuster anytime soon. Although I've always fancied being played by Tom Hanks, as long as he can do a convincing English accent!'

Susan had listened as Jonathan condensed the past two decades into a bullet point list of highs and lows, memorable moments and ones better consigned to the annals of history.

He'd met someone, it hadn't worked out, so he'd never married and – much to his sadness – never had children.

He'd travelled extensively to some of the remoter parts of the globe, always intent on pedalling his way through scenic splendour.

His parents had both died within the past few years – Susan had never met them but knew they'd been very close – and he now viewed his own mortality as an opponent to be outwitted and outsmarted.

‘That’s enough about me. Tell me about you . By the way, you look amazing. Sorry, should have said that before but I was just so gobsmacked at seeing you again. The woman who broke my heart.'

He said this with levity in his voice but his expression told a different tale.

If Susan didn't know better she would have sworn he still carried a candle for her.

Which was ridiculous. Why would a man like Jonathan still hanker after a ghost from the past, when there were must be so many other women eager and willing to snap him up?

'I'm good. Well, apart from having cancer, I'm good.'

Jonathan had visibly tensed at her throwaway remark, his hand edging towards hers, her own fingers creeping of their own accord in his direction.

'Breast cancer. It's a bugger, but so far so good.

Had some surgery and getting through a course of radiotherapy now.

Not pleasant but not as bad as I'd imagined.

Not that I ever imagined it. It happens to other people, so when it happens to you it's like an out-of-body experience.

But I'll get through it. There's no other option, is there? '

Jonathan had said nothing. Just squeezed her hand a little tightly and gazed at her with increased intensity.

Her insides were now pools of boiling lava, threatening to spill over and lay waste to all the barriers she'd erected over the years.

Was this right ? Could she possibly put aside all that had been said and done in the past and start afresh?

Would he even want to, considering how callously she'd cast him aside?

She felt like a completely different person now, but so was he.

Was it remotely possible they could pick up the dropped stitches and knit themselves something new and sustainable?

As if in answer to her unspoken question, Jonathan raised his eyebrows and gesticulated towards the door.

'I think we still have a lot of talking to do. Which we can carry on at your place. Unless you have a doting husband who will punch my lights out if I turn up unannounced and with my arms wrapped round you. I'm assuming that's not the case?'

Susan gathered up her handbag, her purchases and her courage. It was now or never. She'd let him go once before, a second time would be madness.

'There's no husband. There was only ever you. Shall we go?'

It was the middle of the night. Susan was wide awake, keenly aware of the sleeping presence next to her.

They'd talked for hours, interspersed with tears, hugs and an overriding sense of making up for lost time.

They could never claw it back, but they could move forward.

Together. That was a scary word in Susan's vocabulary but one she liked the sound of.

Together . Not alone, not afraid, no longer the laughing stock or the recipient of well-meant sympathy.

A half of something that added up to something worth having.

She saw herself all those years ago, convinced she was right to let him go.

Now? She had looked down the barrel of death and realised what a fool she'd been.

Jonathan loved her – he'd said there had never been anyone else who came close – and she loved him.

It was that simple. They hadn't made love tonight, just cuddled up and shared more stories.

By mutual consent they'd gone to bed, kissed and then drifted off to sleep.

He would be there in the morning. She turned over and willed herself to sleep a little longer.

Because the rest of her wonderful, unimaginable life was about to start.