The mug arrived three days after Nate posted it.
Lena washed it, made tea in it and found the old chip caught slightly against her palm. She didn't put it on a shelf to admire. It was a mug. She wanted to use it.
In the days that followed she and Nate spoke twice on the phone. The first call was awkward, full of things neither wanted to ask too soon. The second lasted almost an hour because he told her about a work argument and she told him about Jo serving the wrong cake to a customer who liked it better.
They were not together. They were not pretending they wanted only the mug.
On Sunday evening he said he would be in Ashford most of the next week.
“Tuesday's a long one at the theatre,” he said. “After that I have to check. I'd like you to see the place sometime.”
“I'd like that.”
“Let me find out what's clear.”
She said all right.
By Monday lunchtime she had decided not to wait.
It wasn't a test, she told herself. It was a nice thing. She had spent years waiting for men to come home, ask, explain. She could get on a train and choose an afternoon herself.
Jo looked at her when she asked for Tuesday's new close off and a late start Wednesday.
“Have you checked he's free?”
“He's there.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
“I'm surprising him.”
Jo made a face.
“The evening cover might work,” she said. “Wednesday morning depends on the other shift. I'll ask. Don't buy anything until I know.”
Lena waited for that permission. Not for Nate's.
Jo confirmed later that a worker could cover the morning.
“If that changes, you come back for eight,” she said. “I have the supply collection. I can't do both mornings.”
“I'll come back.”
Lena bought the train ticket, found a cheap room online and pictured Nate's face when she walked into the theatre.
She didn't reserve the room yet. Some part of her had already imagined him asking her to stay at his flat.
On Tuesday she packed the green notebook, a clean shirt and the blue mug because taking it back briefly seemed funny. On the train it looked less funny. She left it in the bag.
She messaged Nate twenty minutes before reaching Ashford.
Don't be annoyed. I've come to see you. Arriving soon.
His reply came almost at once.
Today?
Her stomach tightened.
Yes. I wanted to surprise you.
He called.
“I'm working till ten, Len. Come to the theatre. I've got a break at four. I'd love to see you, but I can't leave.”
She had thought a long Tuesday meant six.
“All right,” she said.
She heard both parts. She liked one much more.
Lena reached the theatre early and waited in the foyer. At four Nate came out and crossed the room to hug her. She held him a little longer than he expected.
“Can we go round the corner? I've got thirty minutes.”
They bought soup because it was quick. At the little table he took her hand. She smiled, trying not to count the minutes while wanting every one to last.
“This is nice,” he said.
“I wanted it to be.”
He kissed her. A simple kiss, allowed now, and she felt it all the way into her knees. She reached for his sleeve when he moved away.
“I brought a clean shirt,” she said. “I thought I could stay.”
He glanced at the bag by her feet. His hand went still under hers.
“At yours, I mean.”
“Yes. I understood.”
She waited for him to smile. He looked at the clock instead.
“I thought we'd have a day first,” he said.
“At the bakery you asked me to come for days.”
“I know. You told me I was rushing you.”
“So I'm here now.”
“I was trying to do what you asked.” He stopped. “That sounds like I'm blaming you. I'm not.”
She stared at him. “You said you'd like me to see the place.”
“I would. I didn't mean you couldn't come in.”
“Just not stay.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don't know. I hadn't thought about tonight.”
Heat climbed her face. She pulled the bag onto her lap as if he might have forgotten whose it was.
“You don't want me here?”
“I do.” He leaned closer. “Len, I'm not sending you away.”
But she was already remembering the last morning in their old flat. The key left on the table. Her shirt on the chair, ready for a day he had never meant to share.
“I've got money for a room,” she said.
“That's not what I—”
“It's fine.”
He looked down at their hands. She had taken hers away without noticing.
“I spent the last few weeks trying not to want this,” he said. “I can't quite catch up.”
She heard the words. She could not stop hearing the pause before them.
At the next table a man was trying to fold a map that refused to return to its original shape. Nate watched him for a second, then looked back at her.
“I've made a mess of that.”
“There's nothing to make a mess of.”
“Lena.”
The clock had moved on. They both saw it.
“I've got to go back,” he said. “I'll call you around half five. We can work out tonight.”
“You'll be working.”
“I can make a call.”
She nodded without looking at him. He touched her shoulder before going. She stayed very straight until the door closed.
She finished the soup slowly. There was nothing else she could do to make the break longer.
Outside, she walked without a destination until she reached a small square. She sat on a bench and took out the notebook. The buildings were interesting. She drew one crooked cornice, pressed too hard and tore the page. She shut the book. She wanted to go home before he called; she wanted to hear his voice more.
Her phone rang. Jo.
“The morning cover's fallen through,” her sister said. “She's got a family problem. I can do your close tonight, but I can't do tomorrow as well. I have that supply collection I told you about.”
Lena kept the notebook shut.
“What time do you need me?”
“Eight. You said you'd be back if it didn't work.”
She had. In the bright planning mood of Monday, she'd said it easily.
“I'll check the trains.”
“Check properly, Len.”
Jo ended the call, not angry yet. Lena knew that would change if she made the promise become somebody else's problem.
The last train that got her home tonight left at seven. The morning train would reach Greyhaven too late.
Nate would finish near ten.
She opened a message to Nate, then stopped with her thumb over the screen. She would tell him about the train. She would not pretend she had never wanted to stay.