Gallery

I needed peace to sort out my head and after being served, I went to sit on the terrace outside. It was one of my favourite spots and I held my steaming mug in both hands as I gazed down the length of the lake.

I turned my gaze towards the fireplace at the end of the room. There was a painting of Queen Victoria below a blackboard with the day’s menu.

The sun had come out and I crossed the road and set off up the path towards Parliament Hill. I stopped as I went past my old flat. Nothing had changed and I imagined Emma, naked, opening the curtains.

We climbed up to the gallery above the main hall. I stopped to admire the colourful, cast-iron vaulted roof, but Jessica prodded me in the ribs.

It had been a hunting lodge in the 1800s. Only a two-storey white turret and a Tudor gable relieved the grey of the granite walls and slate roof.

The white painted façade of the Liverpool Arms forms part of the medieval walls on Conwy’s quayside.

The following day, we walked arm-in-arm down to Hyde Park Corner and then through Green Park. The sun was shining through the naked branches of the trees, but there was a chill in the air.

I followed her gaze as she watched the army of servers dressed in white shirts and black waistcoats fussing over their guests. There wasn’t an empty seat.

The man with the kite was in his usual spot. He waved to me. Then I saw her sitting alone on a bench, looking out over the City. She must have felt my gaze and turned to face me.

‘What about Monday? You didn’t come in at all,’ she continued. ‘Sylvia was asking after you yesterday. Everyone’s worried. Even the parrot.’

She stared at the shining globes hovering over the bar, their warm light reflecting in her eyes. They were the same dark brown eyes that had bewitched me twelve months earlier.