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THIRTY-NINE

Martha dumps her bag on the empty chair at the table in the café where she’s just arrived to meet Grace for lunch. “Sorry I’m late,” she says.

“You’re not,” says Grace. “I’m early.”

Al is looking after the shop with Milly, Nala is at the childminder’s, and Martha hasn’t seen Grace since the night they had to take Nala to the hospital nearly three weeks ago.

It’s the eve of Christmas Eve and the café is playing “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.” There is a vat of mulled wine on the counter exuding the most intoxicating smell and Martha immediately feels herself soften and relax after an insanely busy morning in the shop.

“You look great,” says Grace.

“No, thank you, I don’t.”

“You need to learn how to take a compliment.”

Martha laughs and says, “Thank you. You’re very kind. Have you decided what you’re having?”

They both order and then, as an afterthought, both decide to have a glass of wine too. Martha gives Grace her Christmas gift and Grace says, “Fuck. I didn’t get you anything.”

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s just something from the shop. I didn’t make any effort, I promise.”

Grace laughs in response and says, “Well, let me get lunch at least.” Then she tucks the gift in the tote bag hanging from her chair and looks at Martha and says, “So, how are things going?”

“Good,” says Martha brightly. “Like, really, really good. I think that night with Nala was a wake-up call for him, I really do. And since he gave up work, it’s basically like I’ve got him back, you know, my perfect guy.

He’s so attentive, so present. Just brilliant with the kids.

You know, he got Jonah to open up about his gender dysphoria.

Jonah chose Al to have that conversation with. It’s truly amazing.”

“Wow,” says Grace. “That’s pretty special.”

Her friend sounds impressed but also slightly skeptical. Martha doesn’t push it.

They talk about their Christmas plans. Grace is going to Yorkshire to spend two nights with her in-laws, who live in a huge barn conversion and spend too much on presents and feed them champagne from the moment they get there until the moment they leave, and Martha has always been rather jealous of their Christmases, even though Grace just moans about the car journey and the uncomfortable mattress and the enforced walks after meals.

Martha doesn’t have any in-laws—well, she has ex–in-laws, but it’s a relationship that doesn’t stand up very well to divorce and a new partner.

She tells Grace that she and Al will be having a quiet one with the baby.

It’s the boys’ year with their dad this Christmas; they’ll be back for Boxing Day and then the five of them will have turkey lasagna and do presents.

It’s going to be mellow, but after the crazy year they’ve all had, it will be exactly what she wants and needs.

“Sounds lovely,” says Grace. “I’m happy for you. I have to say, for a while there I really was quite convinced there was something, you know, really bad going on.”

Martha feels herself bristle. “Really bad?”

“Yeah. I thought it was going to end up that he was one of those blokes you read about. The ones who marry loads of women and lie to everyone and steal all their money.”

“What!”

“Yes, I mean, obviously he’s not. But it was just a bit weird, you know, the way he kept disappearing, the way you’ve never met any of his colleagues, or friends, or family.

He’s kind of mysterious. And I read this book recently, about a woman who married a guy like that, and it turned out he was a…

well, he was a psychopath.” She ends this statement with a small shard of nervous laughter.

“Well,” says Martha, “I can assure you that Al might be many things, but a psychopath is not one of them. The empathy he has shown to Jonah this last week, it’s just breathtaking, honestly.

There’s no way Matt would have been able to manage the situation as well.

I’m not sure even I could have. So, yeah, you know, he has a murky past, I know all that, and he’s used to being able to run away when things get tough, I know that too, but now, I think, I really do think, he’s starting to feel safe.

He’s starting to feel settled. He just needed a place to lay his hat, you know. He just needed… us.”

Martha hugs Grace on the pavement outside the café and Grace hugs her back.

“That was amazing,” says Grace. “We must try and do more things like this, now that you’ve got Al home full-time. Maybe even cocktails in the New Year? How about that?”

Martha puts her hands into her pockets and smiles. “Yes please!” she says. “I’m looking forward to it already!”

She watches Grace meander down the busy pavement toward her street and then Martha turns back toward the flower shop, her thoughts softened by the glass of wine, the twinkling lights of the angel wings strung overhead, the almost tangible feeling of Christmas in the air, and there, just ahead of her, is the soft pink glow of her shop, her world, her creation, her safe place.

She feels a sudden rush of butterflies at the thought of seeing Al.

She realizes, ridiculously, that she’s missed him in the hour and a half that she’s been away from him, and her pace picks up a little as she approaches the shop.

She pushes open the door and sees Milly beaming at her from across the counter.

“Hiya!” she says. “Did you have a good lunch?”

“It was wonderful, thank you,” she replies, “just what I needed.” She looks behind Milly and then around the shop. “Shouldn’t you be on your lunch break now?”

“Yes. But it’s OK. I didn’t mind waiting for you.”

“You didn’t have to wait for me, though…”

“Oh, yes. Sorry. I thought you knew. Al had to go somewhere. He left about half an hour ago? I said I’d cover till you got back. But it’s no biggie.”

“Go where?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. Work, I assume?”

“But he doesn’t—” Martha stops and sighs. There’s no point explaining the small print of their lives to Milly, she won’t care. “Right. OK, then. Did he say what time he’d be back?”

“No.” Milly looks at her with wide, slightly sad eyes. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I thought you knew.”

“No,” says Martha. “No. But never mind. You get on to your lunch. I’ll give him a call.”

Milly busies herself in the back room for a moment before appearing in her tiny fake fur coat and freshly applied lip gloss, with a small handbag in the crook of her arm. “Need anything while I’m out?”

“No, thanks. No. I’m good.”

The moment Milly leaves the shop, Martha taps Al’s number into her phone. The call goes straight through to voicemail. She switches to the tracker app to see if she can work out where he’s gone, but the flashing blue dot is nowhere to be seen.