Kit righted two chairs. One had rainwater caught in the dip of the seat. He tipped it onto the paving and offered her the dry one, but Lena stayed by the balustrade.
Below them the beach was almost empty. A dog ran after a tennis ball, too far away for her to hear its feet on the stones. She looked at that until Kit had shut the terrace door.
'So,' he said. 'Six weeks.'
'I know.'
He set his bag on the other chair. 'You called me at half past one in the morning. You said you thought you were going to leave him. Then you didn't answer me again.'
She had been sitting on the kitchen floor, waiting for the kettle. Tom was asleep. Kit's number had still been there, though she'd put his messages in an archive where she couldn't see them every day. He had answered on the third ring. She remembered the relief of his voice, how quickly she had wanted to tell him everything.
'I answered once,' she said.
'You sent me a thumbs-up.'
'Yes. That was bad.'
He nodded, without making it easier for her.
'I've decided to leave,' she said. 'I haven't done it yet. I was going to wait until after this.'
'After the wedding.'
'Yes.'
He looked through the window. Tom was at the bar beside Owen. He had found somewhere to put the table legs.
'Does he know?'
'No.'
Kit turned back. 'And that call?'
'I was unhappy. I wanted to speak to someone who knew me.'
'You could have called Bea.'
'I know.' She rubbed her thumb over a spot where the white paint on the balustrade had blistered. 'It wasn't a promise, Kit.'
'It didn't sound like a chat about the weather.'
'I never said I wanted you back.'
'You said you missed me.'
She remembered that too. She had said it into the phone with her forehead against her knees, and for a moment the kitchen had seemed less small.
'I did. I shouldn't have called you like that while I was still with him.'
He leaned his hip against the railing. The wind blew his shirt against his stomach. She made herself look at his face.
'You sounded like you were finally going to do something,' he said.
'I am going to do something.'
'On Sunday.'
She hated the way he said it, and hated more that she deserved it.
'Who is Nia?'
His mouth changed. Not quite a smile. 'A woman I've been seeing.'
'For how long?'
'About a month.'
'Together together?'
'We haven't agreed to be exclusive, if that's what you mean. I asked her to come for the weekend. She said yes.'
He was watching her closely now. She wished she hadn't asked the second question.
'She seems nice,' Lena said.
'She is.'
'I'm glad.'
'You don't look glad.'
She looked at him. He let the smile happen then, small and infuriating, the same smile he used to give her across a crowded pub when he knew she was trying not to laugh.
'Don't,' she said.
'Don't what?'
'Enjoy it so much.'
He ducked his head. 'Sorry.' But he was still smiling.
On the beach, the dog dropped the ball. Its owner bent, threw, and started the whole process again. Lena wondered whether they could hear the wedding guests up here, voices trapped behind glass.
'I didn't know you were bringing someone,' she said.
'You didn't answer my messages.'
'I wasn't entitled to a warning. I know that.'
'I wasn't trying to warn you.'
He said it plainly. Her embarrassment warmed her skin even in the cold.
They had stood on another terrace four years ago, outside a flat they could barely afford, arguing over the contract Kit had accepted. Three months working away had turned into an offer of a year. He had shown her photographs of places to live as if she would enjoy choosing one. She had been offered regular work at the cinema that same week. When she said she wasn't going, he had looked at her as though she had broken a promise they had never quite made.
'I thought you'd be away this weekend,' she said.
'Job finished early. There wasn't any grand plan.' He studied her. 'Did you think I'd come all this way because of your phone call?'
She should have said no. It would have been a simple lie, no effort at all.
'A bit.'
He stopped smiling.
'Lena.'
'You asked.'
He dragged a hand over his hair. 'I wanted to know where I stood. That's all.'
'Well. You know.'
'I'm not sure I do.'
She straightened. 'I'm leaving Tom. That doesn't mean I'm coming to you.'
He took the answer, eyes on hers. Then he looked down at the chair between them.
'Fine.'
It sounded less fine than his face looked.
Through the window Nia reached across the bar for a bowl of crisps. Tom said something, and she laughed. Nia had taken her coat off; beneath it she wore a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled to her elbows. A person who had made a journey, packed a bag, expected to have a good time.
Lena turned away from the window.
'Please don't tell anyone about the call.'
'I'm not going to announce it at dinner.'
'I mean Tom. Or Bea.'
He frowned. 'Bea doesn't know?'
'Not about the call.'
'Right.'
'I will tell him myself. I just need to get through this weekend.'
Kit picked up his bag. 'You used to say that about us.'
'What?'
'Get through Christmas. Get through my next job. Wait until everything was easier.'
'And you used to think the answer was for me to come wherever you happened to be.'
'It wasn't wherever I happened to be. It was where I had work.'
She folded her arms. 'So did I.'
For a moment they were there again, each waiting for the other to agree whose life ought to fit inside whose.
Kit let out a breath. 'I'm not doing this on the terrace.'
'Neither am I.'
But she had liked hearing him say us. That was the trouble. Even now, standing here with her arms crossed, she liked the weight of it.
He opened the door. Warm air came out, carrying the smell of coffee.
Nia looked over. 'You all right?'
'Yes,' he said. 'Just catching up.'
Lena followed him inside, rubbing her cold hands together.
Tom had ordered her tea. He'd taken the bag out so it wouldn't stew and put a folded napkin over the saucer, the way he did at home when she worked too long and forgot it was there.
'Windy out there?' he asked.
'Quite.'
He put his hand briefly at the small of her back. She moved to the stool beside him and sat down before she had to decide how to answer the touch.
Bea leaned across Owen. 'Can I steal her? Ten minutes. I've made a mess of the table layout.'
'You can have her for nine,' Tom said. 'I've paid for the tenth.'
Lena lifted the tea. It was still warm enough to drink.
She took one mouthful, then stood.