Page 46 of The Path to the Last House Before the Sea

Alyssa stood for a few moments more, watching Magda finish a cake for a couple whose love story had a happy ending. Then she let herself out of the back door and hurried across the garden to her caravan.

TWENTY-THREE

JACK

It was awful, Jack decided, glancing round the marquee. Absolutely mind-numbingly awful.

Not the marquee, of course, which was resplendent with flowers, tables topped with white cloths, and silver bunting. And not the wedding, which had gone off without a hitch. Rosie and Liam had pledged their undying love within the historic walls of St Augustine’s Church and were now cutting the impressive wedding cake made by Magda. Rosie looked beautiful in a flowing white dress with a circle of entwined spring flowers in her hair. And though Liam seemed slightly uncomfortable in his smart suit, he was beaming beside her.

That was all wonderful, and Jack wished the two of them many happy years of marriage.

What was awful was that he was sitting here, making inconsequential talk with the man who was now sleeping with the woman who was still technically his wife. And, to make matters worse, Jack couldn’t even hate him.

He’d tried. Really hard. But Omen-y Damian seemed pretty decent, all things considered. He’d shaken Jack’s hand and congratulated him on being such a ‘brilliant dad’ to Archie. He’d asked about Jack’s job and feigned interest in the data they were working on. And he hadn’t once put his arm around Miri.

Miri, on the other hand, had spent the last three hours grabbing at the man who had replaced him: pushing her hand into his, slipping her arm around his waist, kissing him on the lips. It was almost as if she was goading Jack. As if she was trying to prove something that was already patently obvious.

You weren’t good enough for me, so I’ve moved on.

Miri’s behaviour had reminded Jack of the unkind streak she’d occasionally displayed during their marriage. While Miri could be loving and generous and fun – and she was a great mum to Archie – she could come across as unfeeling. He remembered when she hadn’t cared a jot that he’d lost funding for a precious research project. Or the times she’d commented that Archie’s pale colouring and looks were so different from his own.

Jack was no saint, either – he knew that. But while he’d obviously failed as a husband in many ways, he didn’t think he’d ever been unkind.

But then his mind flitted back to the Dartmoor tour he’d taken with Alyssa. His lack of interest and sarcastic comments might be viewed as unkind, he realised anew, and another hot flush of shame flooded through him. No wonder she thought he was a boring weirdo.

‘I’m so sorry about you and Alyssa,’ said Miri beside him. Jack jumped. Could she read his mind? ‘About the break-up,’ she added, noticing his startled expression. ‘Oh, look. Rosie and Liam are cutting the cake!’ She applauded the happy couple, who were lit by the afternoon sun streaming into the marquee.

‘Yeah, thanks,’ he managed, once the cheering and applause had died down. Trust Miri to pick such a joyful moment to finally mention Alyssa. He’d been on tenterhooks all afternoon, expecting Miri to ask about her, but she’d been too busy chatting with Damian.

Miri glanced across the marquee at Alyssa, who was putting pieces of wedding cake onto paper plates. ‘You didn’t actually say in your text why you’d split up.’

Jack watched Alyssa wipe cake crumbs from her fingers. ‘It was nothing in particular,’ he said quietly. ‘We simply grew apart.’

‘I’m surprised you had time to grow apart,’ said Miri, raising an eyebrow. ‘It’s such a shame. She didn’t seem your type, but she seemed nice enough.’

‘She’s very nice.’

‘I’m sure she is, and we hope you’re not too broken-hearted about it.’ Miri caught Damian’s eye and gave him a look that Jack recognised.

They didn’t believe him. Miri had probably discussed it with Damian as they lay together in bed. Poor Jack. How pathetic to make up a fantasy girlfriend!

Jack watched Alyssa cutting into the beautifully iced cake. She was wearing a pretty dress, in shades of pink and purple, and her dark hair was streaked today with peacock blue. She looked like an exotic bird with fancy plumage.

Miri was still talking, however, and he pulled his attention back to her as Alyssa and Magda started distributing wedding cake to the guests. ‘Sorry, what did you say?’

Miri tilted her head and pushed out her bottom lip, her face a picture of sympathy and pity. ‘We’re worried about you, Jacky,’ she said, resting her hand on his arm. ‘We’re worried that you’re unhappy and not properly facing up to reality.’

The ‘we’ stung. Miri was worried, and so was Damian. The man he’d met only three hours ago. The man who would be replacing him in the family home, where Archie lived.

‘There’s no need to worry about me,’ said Jack, through gritted teeth.

‘But I do worry, Jacky.’ Miri squeezed his arm. ‘You don’t seem yourself and you’re even—’ She stopped speaking and shook her head.

‘Even what?’ asked Jack, trying to smile because people were watching them. They were an odd little grouping, and Belinda’s eyes had been on stalks from the moment they’d sat together at the same table.

‘Well.’ Miri laughed self-consciously and, letting go of his arm, grabbed hold of Damian’s hand instead. From one man to another: one discarded, the other desired. ‘I mean, making up stuff about that Alyssa woman. I don’t think she knew what you were talking about at the café the other day.’

‘Of course she knew,’ blustered Jack, feeling sick.

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