They were on the beach when she spotted him. The day was blustery and few had ventured out, so he’d been easy to see, even at a distance; his distinctive walk, hands behind his back, his upright stance. Though she couldn’t hear him, she knew he was regaling his companion with some of his trademark humour, or what went for humour, anyway. He turned sideways, said something, then faced front and laughed uproariously at what he’d said.

She tensed, wondering whether to say anything to Mark, who was plodding along beside her. As the two pairs drew nearer to each other, she wondered how she would respond when they were alongside. Would she smile and greet them? Stop and chat like old friends? She shuddered.

‘Alright love?’ Mark frowned, having noticed the tremor. ‘Are you cold?’ She shook her head.

‘It’s nothing.’

Soon they’d be level. Now she could make out his features, his expression. She saw a glimmer of recognition flash across his face and the composition of false smile she remembered so well. He was preparing to greet her, preparing to pretend. She faced front, fixed her stare ahead at the cliffs and strode determinedly on until they were past him and his wife. She allowed some distance to grow between them and the other couple before she turned to look back. And when she did, she saw that he and his wife had both turned to look back as well.

She resumed walking. Mark fell into step with her.

‘What was that about?’

‘What?’

‘That bloke. He looked at you and smiled- like he knew you. And you made a point of ignoring him.’ She frowned.

‘It was him.’

‘What? Who? Who is him?’

She stopped and faced Mark. ‘Lando. It was Robert Lando.’

‘Your old boss?’ She nodded, biting her lip, feeling tears begin to well up and not wanting Mark to see. She was supposed to be over it all now, wasn’t she?

Mark tucked her arm into his. ‘If you ask me, I think you should have stopped and told him what happened to you because of him.’

She shuddered as they strolled on, remembering. Seeing Lando brought it all back; the humiliation, the shouting and the torment, the impossible demands and the withdrawal of her managerial status, this last announced to all in the office before she’d known of it. It had taken months to regain her health and move on, finding a job in a garden centre. She’d had to accept a huge drop in salary but had slowly regained her confidence and found peace.

She turned back once more to look. The two figures had become mere dots in the distance. Mark watched her.

‘There,’ he said, ‘Lando is disappearing into the horizon. You need never see him again. He’s a tiny speck vanishing to nothing. Come on. Let’s get to the kiosk and buy a hot chocolate.’

It was over.

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com