Page 51 of Not in a Million Years

I could sense Ash relaxing, and so after a bit I decided to risk asking, ‘So how did you and Andy meet?’

She raised her remarkable eyes to meet mine. ‘It was at a meeting in Manchester. Not a formal thing, more just a get-together – a support group, I suppose you could call it – for people doing twelve-step programmes.’

I blinked in surprise. Of course, Andy had made no secret of his regular attendance at Narcotics Anonymous meetings, and AA ones too because, as he’d said once, ‘Coke might have been my drug of choice, Katie babe, but let’s be honest, a lovely dry Martini ran it a close second.’

But Ash? I couldn’t picture this clean-living, yoga-practising woman indulging in anything more intoxicating than the wine she was sipping, or maybe a particularly decadent fruit salad.

‘I attend Overeaters Anonymous,’ she explained in answer to my unasked question. ‘I had – still have, although I’m in recovery – a binge eating disorder. I lost most of my twenties to it.’

‘I see,’ I said, although to be honest I struggled to see. ‘That’s – uh, very brave.’

‘It’s a long story.’ She smiled. ‘And I won’t bore you with it. But the support from people who are on the same journey is a huge part of the healing process. I’ve found a group to attend here, too, although meetings aren’t as frequent as they were back home. So, anyway, that’s where Andy and I met.’

‘And you hit it off right away?’ Daniel asked.

‘I guess, yeah. I fancied him right away.’ A flush spread over her cheeks like someone had dusted them with Nars Orgasm. ‘I mean, wouldn’t anyone?’

Yeah, I thought, you would. And any man alive would fancy you. Across the table, I saw Daniel watching Ash intently.

‘Sorry if I’m oversharing,’ Ash went on. ‘It’s just, I know how close you are. Andy talked about you all the time. You and – Abbie and Matt, is it? And Rosie, with the teenage daughter.’

‘Rowan,’ I corrected her, smiling.

‘Oh yeah, of course. I felt almost as if I knew you. I hoped I’d meet you sometime, although obviously not like this.’

‘It’s good to meet you anyway,’ Daniel said gallantly, and I thought, You would say that, wouldn’t you?

‘I…’ Ash began, and then she tailed off before trying again. ‘I know Andy will tell you his version of what happened. But I guess I wanted to share it from my point of view, too, because it’s important to me and I’m still figuring it all out in my head. And I feel, like, really bad, actually.’

‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘You can tell us as much as you want to, and we’ll tell Andy, or not, whatever you prefer.’

‘Thanks.’ Ash’s shoulders visibly relaxed under the crisp white cotton of her dress. She took an olive and ate it, nibbling round the stone as if eating an apple. ‘Yeah, so, like I said, I fancied him right away. But I assumed he was gay. I mean, why wouldn’t I?’

Daniel poured the rest of the wine into our glasses, listening silently.

I thought, Of course. Didn’t we all?

‘So we kind of made friends,’ Ash went on. ‘This was late last year, like October time. We went for a couple of coffees, saw a movie together, stuff like that. Went shopping. It was nice. I’ve always wanted a gay best friend. But all the time, I felt this… thing. You know. When you’re attracted to someone and you feel like you wouldn’t be that attracted – not that intensely – if there wasn’t something there on their side too.’

I felt a stab of something that was part sorrow, part envy – but mostly a feeling I couldn’t begin to name.

‘I get that,’ Daniel said, smiling, and I thought, You do? How come?

‘Then one night,’ Ash said, ‘it all just happened. Just like that. It was Bonfire Night, and we’d been to see a firework display. I took a flask of mulled cranberry juice, so Andy could have some, and we had jacket potatoes from a food cart, and he was really cool about finishing mine when I said I’d had enough. And then when we were walking home – we lived quite near each other at the time – he held my hand.’

I listened. I could picture them there together, on a drizzly autumn evening in the north-west, far more clearly than I could imagine Andy here. I could almost feel the damp air on my face, smell the sulphur from the fireworks blending with the wholesome fragrance of baked potato, feel the pressure of a hand through a woolly glove.

‘He told me he had feelings for me,’ Ash said. ‘He said he couldn’t hide it any more. He said he’d always been bi, but he’d never been out. I didn’t know what to make of it, really, but if I’m honest, I didn’t think it through that much. I was just so happy he felt the same about me as I did about him.’

‘Of course you were,’ I said, nodding.

‘And after that,’ Ash continued as if I hadn’t spoken, ‘it all kind of went from nought to a hundred. I’d already been applying for jobs out here, and then I got the one at Wild Maple. I was made up, but I was also gutted because it meant leaving Andy behind. But he said he’d come out and join me – he’d take all the annual leave he’d built up and he’d come. So I moved out here in January and we FaceTimed and WhatsApped and stuff the whole time. And then he came, and I was so happy. He moved in here with me and it was like the beginning of something magical.

‘I’ll make tea,’ she said abruptly, standing up in a way that was less graceful than before, more of a scramble. She rapidly cleared the remains of the meal from the table, and I heard the hum of a kettle before she returned with glass cups in metal holders, stuffed with fresh mint, over which she poured boiling water.

Daniel and I thanked her, knowing the tea was just an excuse for her to collect her thoughts before finishing her story. She sat back down, this time hugging her knees to her chest.

‘It was my fault,’ she said. ‘All the stuff I’ve had to deal with – around my body image and everything – I’m still working through. And when Andy was here, with me, it should’ve all been great. But I kept quizzing him, about what he’d been doing back in Manchester, about whether he’d slept with anyone else – and he knew I meant men, not women.’

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