she’d texted him, or something. Even holding the piece of plastic in his hand would be some pathetic link to her. He slipped down the side of the garden, leaves brushing his face, past Jake’s empty tent – the boy was so awkward and unhappy, Bill wished he knew him well enough to try and offer some words of wisdom – and ducked into the garage, which was bigger than his and Astrid’s lakeside home in Sweden. Actually, it was just hers; she’d had it when Bill had met her, on a post-university bike ride through Scandinavia, three years older than him and a hundred per cent cooler.
The garage smelled of oil and woodchip from the stack of logs all along one wall. Karen, Bill knew, was staying in the office on the floor above; he could hear the sound of beeps drifting down. Jake must be playing a game of some kind. A two-storey garage: Ali and Mike had really bought into the post-Oxford cult of possessions. Ali had been funny about the room situation earlier, asking Mike why he’d put Karen there. ‘I was saving it for Bill.’
‘Bill can have Benji’s room.’
‘I know, but . . .’ She’d seen him listening and smiled, in a fake shiny way that made his heart hurt. The old Ali had never smiled like that. He gathered she thought it more appropriate for him, a single man now, to sleep out here, rather than Karen on her own. Old-fashioned. Was that who Ali was now – or maybe who she’d always been? He could hardly claim to know her after all this time.
He found his phone: no messages. A feeling of desolation came over him, as if Astrid was moving further and further away with every hour that passed.
‘So this is where you sneaked off to.’ Karen was in the garage doorway, eyes glittering. She was very drunk, he thought.
‘Not sneaking. Going to bed?’
‘No way. Need a cardy. S’colder now.’ But she didn’t go upstairs. ‘So. You’re single now.’
‘Guess so.’
‘Do you miss her?’ Karen was doing something odd with her feet, which were bare and dirty, balancing one off the opposite leg like a yoga pose she was too drunk to hold. He remembered how they’d been friends so many years ago, both into indie music in a college full of upper-class kids who only talked about rowing and drinking. He had no idea what her life was like now. A son of almost eighteen, the same age they’d been when they met.
‘Astrid? Yeah, I miss her. We were together twenty years.’
‘None of us thought it would last. We thought you’d be back from the frozen north in months. But it’s taken all this time.’ She sounded plaintive. ‘We missed you, Billy Boy.’
‘I missed you too.’ He kept his voice light, in the hope of ending this conversation.
‘Did you miss me specifically?’
‘Of course. Shame it’s too pricey to come back a lot.’
‘Do you remember first year?’ she said suddenly. ‘Remember when we first met?’
‘Er, I think so. That indie-soc meeting, yeah?’
‘I couldn’t believe it when you came in. I thought I’d already seen all the boys in our year and there you were.’
‘Well, yes, I didn’t really like the whole college bar scene.’
‘Do you know what I thought?’ Karen was leaning against the wall now, one leg up. Her dress was very low-cut. Bill suddenly realised what was happening.
‘We should go back,’ he began guiltily.
‘I thought . . .’ Karen’s voice swooped up. ‘I thought you were the hottest guy in our year. By miles.’
‘That’s very sweet of you. Long time ago, of course. I have a lot less hair now.’
‘No, no.’
‘Listen, Kar—’ The moment stilled between them. She moved closer; her long hair brushed his face. Ali wore hers shorter now, a sensible Mum-cut. ‘I might go to bed, actually.’
‘Don’t go to bed! Boring!’
‘We don’t drink much in Sweden. I’m out of the habit.’
‘Oh. You’ll leave me with boring old Callum and Mike, talking about boring work?’
Bill could have said he knew she didn’t find Mike boring. But he wanted to be kind. Karen had been on her own for a long time, decades, and he’d only been alone for two months and it hurt like a knife in his ribs. ‘Come on. I’ll walk out with you.’
He extended his arm, meaning to shepherd her away, but she nuzzled into it. He could smell the booze on her breath, and the strength of her perfume. She must have doused herself in