The bridge into the city’s heart is beautiful at night. Framed in darkness, yellow lights brighten the curving roadway.
Emma watches as a newspaper, folded like a heron, dances across the white road markings. Then her arms pressed against the parapet, she gazes at the water.
It’s hard to be here with Liam.
Emma watches the satin-black ribbon of water unscrolling. A boat, rippling reflections in its wake, chugs beneath an arch.
On the far bank, the yellow and orange lights are mirrored like daggers in the water. The daggers wriggle and leap, as if avoiding the waves moving in lines towards them. Emma’s feelings twist with them, like fish battling against the current. How can she tell the dearest person in the world that their marriage is over?
‘Let’s take a few days for ourselves,’ Liam had suggested.
Emma didn’t know how much he’d guessed, and didn’t want to ask.
‘Where?’ she’d asked, dully.
She was afraid he’d suggest the peace of the countryside. Silence and muddy lanes wouldn’t cure her restlessness.
‘The Riverside?’ Liam had said. His freckled face had a familiar half-smile as he looked at his wife.
‘A city hotel? Liam, are you mad? You hate it there…’
‘Never mind that. Would you like to?’

Liam dirves them both there on Friday evening. The journey is fraught.
A lorry has spilled its load, and traps them in a tailback. Emma notices the tiny muscles clenching along her husband’s jaw.
At the hotel, Liam sinks onto the bed, wearily rubbing his face.
‘Have a rest,’ Emma says, leaving him. ‘I’m going for a walk.’
Liam’s hurt expression as she shuts the door irritates Emma. Then she realises that more than a rest, he wants company.
At the end of the corridor, she hesitates, but decides it’s foolish to go back. He’ll be better off without her.
Outside in the jewelled darkness she breathes deeply and hurries to the river.
Emma listens to tiny waves lapping against the bridge. Once, she’d stood there with Ben. She smiles.
Stood wasn’t the right word. Ben was never still. He always ran. Parachuting for charity, climbing a mountain, throwing a party - each scheme bubbled faster than the last.
In Emma’s mind, Ben’s brown eyes are always laughing. She’d fallen in love the moment they’d met - hook, line, sinker and bobbing float.
This was awkward, because the last Ben had wanted was anything long-term.
‘My plane leaves tomorrow,’ he’d said carelessly, after two months’ bliss. ‘I won’t be back for, oh, at least a year. I warned you Em. Nothing anchors me down. Remember?’
He’d left no forwarding address.

Another boat chugs upriver, and Emma sighs. Marrying Ben’s friend, Liam, soon after, hadn’t seemed a mistake at the time. She’d felt bewildered, and he’d been kind.
They’d been married now for two years. But the spark that had been Emma’s love for Ben had never rekindled for Liam. As if she’s climbed into a lifeboat, only to make it sink, Emma feels she’s the reason Liam will never be happy.
It’s unfair on both of us, Emma thinks sadly.
It’s time to stop pretending. But what are the rules? It isn’t as if she’s met anyone else. She doesn’t need to while the picture of Ben stays clear in her mind.
A horn blares from a car speeding across the bridge, and Emma jumps.
She pulls her coat close around her ears. Someone’s nearby, and like her, gazing at the water.
‘Thought I’d find you here,’ Liam says. Carefully, he folds his hands before he looks up. ‘Don’t you want anything to eat?’
Emma shakes her head.
‘Not hungry, thanks.’
Liam swivels round to look at her. Emma sees he’s pulled a thread on his left sleeve.
‘So? What shall we do?’ he asks.
‘What do you mean?’ Has he guessed what’s on her mind? She panics at the thought of dissecting their marriage on a public bridge.
Liam holds up both hands and grins.
‘It’s okay!’ he says. ‘Shall we take a stroll?’
So they walk, together, but apart. Others are walking too, hands linked, or arms entwined. Emma wraps herself firmly into her coat.

Halfway across the bridge, Liam speaks.
‘Remember when we came here? It was after that farewell party for Ben…’
Emma freezes.
‘We came here? Are you sure?’
‘Of course. It was the first time I knew…’
‘Knew what?’
‘Loving you was for good,’ he says. He stops and leans one arm against the parapet.
When Emma moves, he’s barring her way. Suddenly, she discovers herself encircled by his arms.
‘Have you thought,’ Liam continues, gently, ‘what loving really is?’
His blue eyes, one with the familiar yellow fleck, are close to hers. Emma has the feeling he’s fighting for something. She retreats into her coat.
‘Overwhelming… like a flood…’ she says, half to herself.
‘That’s being in love,’ Liam murmurs.
‘I thought that’s what you meant,’ Emma says.
‘I mean loving. Steady, everyday stuff. More like being in the same boat than on a river in flood. The journey takes longer, but you do get there.’
Emma stares at Liam as if they’ve just met. She hasn’t understood him at all, she realises.
She’d wanted to leave because she thought she made him miserable, yet stupidly felt she couldn’t because she couldn’t bear to upset him.
Was it true that by caring and being together they’d found a sort of love?
She thinks of their ordinary life - the pulled threads she’s mended, the meals he’s cooked, journeys and homecomings… and suddenly, the other things they’ll do… together.
The bridge stretches across the sparkling river. Emma pushes ahead, walking quickly.
Her coat falls loose as Liam catches up with her. When she puts out her hand the warmth of his is like finding shelter in a storm.