One Perfect Summer

I feel like I could do with some air.
    He nods. ‘I’ll just get my bags in from the car.’
    He returns a short while later with two oversized leather gym bags.
    ‘Which room am I in?’ he asks.
    ‘Mum and Dad’s?’ I suggest.
    ‘Why don’t you have their room? It’s bigger.’
    ‘I would have thought the Hollywood star is used to something grander than my little room.’
    ‘Alice,’ he chides with a frown, and as the butterflies make their way into my stomach I realise that I really do love hearing him say my name, even when he’s telling me: ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
    For want of something better to do, I follow him up the stairs. He turns left to go into my room.
    ‘I’m in here,’ I say quickly.
    ‘You have the bigger room,’ he insists again, regarding the bed.
    ‘No, I want this one,’ I tell him firmly.
    He flashes me a cheeky grin and my heart does that thing again. ‘Do you remember?’ he asks me softly.
    I blush furiously. ‘I am not even talking about this!’ I exclaim, laughing with embarrassment as I turn and go out of the room. ‘Put your bags in the other room,’ I snap jokily, pointing back at the door.
    ‘Later,’ he replies with amusement as he follows me back downstairs.
    There are so many butterflies inside me now that I feel like I could take off.
    He goes to the table and picks up my coat, which I left there when I came in. He holds it open for me while I shrug it on.
    ‘Where’s yours?’ I ask, trying to inject normality into my voice as his hands rest on my arms for a moment too long.
    ‘In the car.’
    ‘Come on, then.’ I usher him out, locking the door behind me. He pauses at the gate and glances back at the bench, before giving me a playful look. I roll my eyes and purse my lips. He’s obviously remembering the hours we spent there, kissing like there was no tomorrow. He opens the gate for me and waits for me to pass through.
    ‘Where shall we go?’ I ask casually.
    ‘You know where,’ he scolds gently.
    We walk down the path towards Dancing Ledge.
    ‘Can I hold your hand?’ he asks suddenly.
    ‘Um . . .’
    He reaches across for it, anyway, and I hesitantly let him take it.
    This isn’t real. It’s not real. I’m in another lifetime. No one is here except for Joe and me. And, with that, I let myself go.
    We pass the field that we lay in under a full moon. I stop in my tracks and stare at it. I jump with surprise as he wraps his arms around my waist from behind and rests his chin on my shoulder. ‘Do you remember?’
    I glance back at him. ‘Joe, I haven’t forgotten a thing.’
    He stares at my lips and a bolt of electricity shoots through me. I haven’t forgotten this feeling, either.
    ‘Let’s keep walking,’ I say. He meets my eyes for a brief moment and then steps away from me. Feeling flustered, I set off down the lane, folding my arms across my chest so he can’t hold my hand again.
    ‘What happened to you after we left Dorset?’ I ask, giving him a sidelong glance.
    He shoves his hands into his pockets. ‘I went to London, like I said I would. I slept rough for a bit, then I got a job working in a bar. One night there was a bar fight and I tried to break it up. I got hurt.’
    ‘Were you okay?’
    He grins at my concern. ‘Yes, but a workmate of mine told me about these kick-boxing classes he was taking, and I thought it was probably about time I learned to defend myself, so I went along with him one day.’ He glances at me. ‘Did you see Strike ?’
    I nod. ‘Not until after I was married.’ Not properly, anyway.
    He looks away. ‘Well, then, you know about that chapter of my life.’
    I know that he learned how to fight and that the director saw something in him and decided to make him a star.
    ‘Did you film that documentary before or after you came to Cambridge to find me?’ I ask.
    ‘Oh, after. Much later. After Cambridge I was a bit fucked again.’
    ‘Oh.’
    ‘Mmm.’
    I don’t understand. My words come out in a flood. ‘Why did you give up so easily? When you came back for me and thought I was with someone else, why didn’t you try to find me, to speak to me, to, I don’t know, win me back?’
    ‘Alice . . .’ His face is full of regret. ‘I wasn’t in a good place. When I found out you’d already moved on . . . I’d actually told myself that’s what I should expect before I came looking for you. Why would you wait for this ?’ He indicates himself with his hands. ‘But it still came as a