‘Sarah, are you all right?’ said Andy.
She looked at him blankly.
It was impossible.
Blood pounded in her ears, filling her head with the noise of crashing waves and making it impossible to make out anything of the conversation around her. And then, in a lull in the noise inside her head, she heard it.
‘Cahal,’ Andy said in the midst of a mouthful of gibberish. And under that deep, dark tan, the man’s face coloured.
Sarah took in a great gasp of air and looked away. It was him. Oh my God, Oh my God, said a voice inside her head and she looked right, then left, ready to bolt. She had never expected to see him again. And certainly not here, not in this too-hot room where people pressed up against her and there wasn’t enough air. Her legs shook beneath her but somehow she held her ground.
‘Sarah, I want you to meet Cahal Mulvenna,’ said Andy, his voice sounding like it came from the end of a tunnel. More incomprehensible mumbling and then, ‘Cahal, meet Sarah Aitken, HR manager here in Belfast.’
Cahal’s eyes came to rest on her once more and he smiled grimly. ‘Aitken,’ he repeated, and she caught a glimpse of the little crooked tooth in his lower jaw, absolute confirmation of his identity. ‘Sarah Aitken.’
Sarah formed her mouth round words but managed only to squeak, ‘What …’ before her throat closed over. She swallowed and found her voice at last. ‘It is you.’ She touched the pulse at the base of her throat – blood pumped through her veins so fast and hard she thought her heart might give out.
A sad, thoughtful look passed briefly across his face. ‘Yes. It’s been a long time, Sarah.’
She stared at him wordlessly. This was not the Cahal Mulvenna she remembered – the skinny student she’d loved with all her heart – but a mature, sophisticated man dressed in the finest apparel money could buy. He was in his mid-forties now; grey peppered his dark, curly hair. Irish gypsy hair, she’d teased him once, running her hand through his luscious locks, while he made love to her in the single bed in her student digs ...
‘Do you two know each other?’ said Andy, sounding a little put out.
‘Yes.’ Cahal extended his hand to Sarah, all smiles. ‘G’day, Sarah, it’s great to see you again.’
She stared at his hand and furrowed her brow. The voice was all wrong. The predominantly Australian accent had softened the hard vowels of the East Antrim one, like a pebble worn smooth by a river. But the underlying accent was still there, unmistakably Ulster in origin.
Hesitantly, she took Cahal’s cool, dry hand in hers and a tiny static shock travelled up her bare arm, making the fine, downy hairs stand on end. On the cuff of his pristine white shirt, a gold cufflink winked in the light like a diamond. He smelt faintly of pine and spice. Quickly, she pulled her hand away.
She’d never seen Cahal in a shirt and tie, let alone a suit. Back when she’d known him, he’d been firmly anti-establishment. How had he gone from a scruffy student in a black leather bomber jacket and jeans – who’d barely scraped a third class degree – to a high-flying management consultant?
Andy’s voice broke the stretched silence. ‘So how do you know each other?’
Cahal’s face went from red to pale under his tan. ‘I … er … we went to university together, didn’t we, Sarah? At least that’s where we met …’ His voice trailed away and Sarah’s gaze slid down to the glass she held in her hands like a chalice.
His words had pierced her heart like needles in a pincushion. Was she nothing more to him than an old university acquaintance? Her throat constricted with anger and she hated him.
Unable to look him in the eye, she mumbled, ‘Yes, it was a long time ago.’ A time when she believed that love could overcome everything …
Inside Morelli’s coffee shop it was warm and steamy but outside the wind howled and, now and again, waves came crashing over the black railings onto Portstewart Promenade. Cahal reached across the table and stroked her damp hair, his eyes soft as chocolate velvet.
‘We were made for each other, Sarah. We’re such a perfect fit in every way.’
She grinned, thinking of the way they lay together at night like spoons, and lifted the cup of hot, sweet tea to her lips. They were inseparable during the day, meeting up between lectures and for lunch, eschewing the company of all others. She set the cup down carefully in the saucer. ‘I never thought that I could love someone as much as I love you, Cahal. When we got together, in those first few weeks, I worried it wouldn’t last, you know. It seemed too perfect, too good to be true. I thought that you would tire of me.’
‘I’ll never tire of you, Sarah.’
She smiled. ‘I thought that as I got to know you better, I would find out things about you that I didn’t like.’
His face fell. ‘And have you?’
She grinned. ‘The more I find out about you, the more I like you.’
A dimple appeared in his left cheek. ‘Even when I bite my nails?’ It was a habit of his when he was worried.
‘Especially when you bite your nails.’
Their hands met, his cold fingers laced with hers. She’d never seen him wear gloves.
‘Do you have to go home tonight?’ he said, squeezing her hands tight, and sending a little shiver deep down inside her. ‘I miss you so much at the weekends.’
‘I miss you too.’
His Adam’s apple moved in his throat. ‘You do know that one day you’ll be mine, Sarah?’
‘I am yours already,’ she breathed into the humid air. ‘I was from the first moment I saw you.’
‘I mean properly mine.’ His hands tightened round hers like a vice. Slow, steady, exquisite pressure. ‘And then we’ll never have to spend a night apart ever again.’
Andy’s voice broke through her thoughts. ‘Well, isn’t that a wonderful coincidence? Just shows you that the world is a lot smaller than we think.’
And yet not big enough, apparently, for her and Cahal. He shouldn’t be here, encroaching on her patch. She had trusted him, blindly, stupidly. And then he’d left her, never to be heard of again. Had he tired of her after all? The bitterness in her mouth was sour and tangy, like blood.
Suddenly, the tall young woman beside Cahal, all sun- bleached hair with teeth like a horse, thrust her hand forward and, positioning her body in front of Cahal’s, said, ‘Hi, I’m Jody.’
‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Sarah, offering a limp handshake. The woman grinned into Cahal’s face and Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat. She had to get away. She tapped the empty glass with a red-painted fingernail and said, ‘If you’ll excuse me a moment, I’ll just go and get another drink.’ And then she turned and fled.
She pushed her way impatiently through the crowd towards the loos, her heart going ka-thump ka-thump against the shiny red fabric of her dress. The sight and smell of Cahal filled all her senses; her eyes pricked inexplicably with tears. She fought them back with ferocious determination.
In the cool, quiet privacy of a cubicle, Sarah sat down on the closed toilet seat and tried to calm herself. Cahal had been in her thoughts since the day he’d boarded the plane to Australia two decades ago, the job as a lab technician long forgotten and their dreams of a life together in tatters. His face was as pale as a ghost, his lips pressed tightly together, thin and colourless. She remembered standing motionless, blinking in dry, wide-eyed disbelief as the metal tube containing the love of her life taxied down the runway and took off.
She’d