‘Maybe if you had one without a weapon in your hand? Or a can of beer? And your clothes on?’
‘I doubt it.’
‘Right. Well, I think I’d better pass. But thanks for that interesting glimpse into your previous life.’
His eyes darted over my shoulder. ‘It was a long time ago. And not as bad as it looks. Stuff happens in the military that, well. It’s hard to explain.’
‘Don’t worry.’ I winked before turning to join the others. ‘I won’t tell Sarah.’
‘What?’
‘You should tell her about it yourself some time. Take her out for a drink. Or a bite to eat at Scarlett’s. She loves it there.’
I whirled away, bumping into Sarah in the doorway.
‘What are you grinning about?’ she asked.
‘Ask Jamie. He’ll tell you everything.’ Then I remembered the first part of the conversation about the non-existent plus one and the photo. ‘Actually, don’t bother. It really wasn’t that funny. I think I ate too much cheese.’
* * *
I asked Will about a picture one evening when I’d ended up staying until after the kids had gone to bed. Embarrassed about the real reason, I made something up about a Father’s Day present. Will turned on the laptop and we spent an amusing hour going through the photo albums. It soon became apparent that there wasn’t a single picture of him this century without his wife or a child in tow. And I was not sending Martha Marsh a photo of a man with a curtains hairstyle. Or wearing a baseball cap back to front.
‘I have a work headshot.’ Will clicked onto his school’s website.
‘Yeah, I was thinking of a more casual look. One where you’re smiling.’
‘Iamsmiling!’
‘No, Will.’ Ellen lifted her head out of a textbook. ‘It’s the same face you pull when your parents come for dinner. Or when someone tells you triplets must be a nightmare.’
‘I’mtryingto smile.’
‘I know.’
‘Don’t worry.’ I got up to go. ‘It was only an idea. Thanks for letting me look.’
I declined a lift home. It was a clear night, and those old photos had conjured a twinkle in Will’s and Ellen’s eyes that made me figure they wanted some alone time.
I needed some alone time myself, to think about Fake Photo Plan C. Mack.
Maybe I should just ask him if I could take one? I reckoned that confidential laptop of his could take a decent picture. I considered the likelihood of Mack adopting a cheerful, attractive pose while I snapped away.
And then I heard it.
A noise in the trees to my right.
I cycled this path several times a week. Had been here countless times in the dark.
The sounds of the forest had become as natural to me as the hum of traffic used to be.
This sound was not a natural one. Crackles. Crunches. Something big was moving in the darkness of the trees.
I took a deep breath, tried to keep listening over the frantic hammering of my heart and restarted the bike. Went through all the possible things it could be: a deer? Horse? A large dog? Would a badger make that much noise?
But as I cycled on, fighting to keep the handlebars steady, the crunches continued alongside me.
Not crunches. Footsteps. Running, several metres to the side.
