Break Up To Make Up. Fiona Harper

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      Nick could see Adele strutting from the car park and followed. He really wanted to sprint, but a little voice inside his head whispered that it would be better to let his wife cool off a bit. He compromised by jogging.

      Boy, she could walk fast when she took off like this. It was a minute or so before he gained enough ground to get within talking distance.

      ‘Adele!’

      She didn’t even turn round, just held up a hand in his direction. The face obviously wasn’t listening.

      ‘Come on, Adele. Please?’

      She had to stop at that moment to cross a road and he caught her up.

      He started to open his mouth.

      ‘Don’t! Just don’t,’ she warned.

      He shut it again.

      ‘You’ve really outdone yourself this time, Nick. I can’t believe you’d turn up here after nine months of no contact and invite me to a birthday party.’ She laughed and shook her head. ‘This is a new level of insensitivity, even for you.’

      Now, hang on a minute! How many times had he called and tried to apologise in the days after he’d left? How many times had she slammed the receiver down before he’d been able to get more than a syllable out? If they hadn’t communicated for nine months, it was more to do with Adele than it was with him. At least he’d tried.

      In the end he’d done what she’d obviously wanted and let her be. And now she was blaming him for it?

      ‘Well, maybe you’ve got all the answers, Adele, but I certainly haven’t.’

      She stepped back from the kerb and looked at him. ‘What do you mean by that?’

      ‘I mean, I’m not sure myself what is going on between us. What is this? Are we separated, or was it just a really long cooling-off period after a fight? If I can’t figure it out, how am I supposed to define it for anyone else? You wouldn’t talk to me. I have no idea what’s going on in your neat and ordered little head.’

      Adele shook her head and crossed the road. He had to wait for a couple of cars to turn the corner before he could catch her up again. No more hanging around waiting for her to fill him in. He’d waited nine months and he was going to get his answers right now.

      ‘What did you tell people, then, Adele? What was your take on it?’

      And then he shut up. He knew exactly what Adele would have told her friends. Mona would have had every last grisly detail and would be in no doubt that Nick was the black-hearted villain of the piece, while Adele came off snowy white and smelling of roses. The woman was so blinkered sometimes.

      He marched along behind her in silence. He should have listened to his gut instinct. Adele was in no mood for even reasonable explanations. Anything he said would just make it worse while she was in this state.

      While he waited for her to unlock the front door, the sparks flying off her were almost tangible.

      ‘I’m going upstairs,’ she said, and marched off, leaving the door open.

      He stepped inside and closed it. Despite the twelve hours of sleep he’d had the night before, he was starting to flag again. He went into the living room and switched the television on. Maybe he could doze in front of it for a bit.

      Adele would calm down soon enough. She always did. Her anger was quick to flare up, but it usually burnt itself out pretty quickly too. He flicked the television on and dropped into his favourite armchair. Just fifteen minutes watching the footie and he’d make her a cup of tea as a peace offering and see if they couldn’t discuss things without world war three starting.

      A little later, just as he was considering hauling himself out of his chair and switching the kettle on, he heard Adele coming down the stairs. Or, to be more precise, he heard a whole lot of bumping and crashing, then thump, thump, thump—as if there were two of her jumping down each step.

      He arrived in the hall just in time to see Adele wrestling his bag down the last three stairs.

      ‘Adele? What on earth are you doing?’