Molly was glad she had met him. John seemed to be dealing with things well, he was living, not just existing. Her heart felt light for that. Just as she was about to turn into the adjoining street and out of sight, she turned and looked back.
John was still standing at their table, looking at her. He smiled and waved.
She waved back and walked on.
He watched her walk towards the cafe and meet John. Watched them speak. He could read lips as easily as a book, so it was as if he was sitting at the table with them.
He knew she would visit London, would try and visit him. Not out of any effort to forge a new relationship, but to continue what she did earlier. Just to check if he was okay.
And he knew she would see that he wasn't. She could see through his pretenses if she wanted, but she was kind enough to choose not to. She instead chose to believe the face that he wore.
But the mask was slowly slipping and it always slipped the most when he was in her presence.
He was a mere man when stood in front of her, the tag of genius ripped off. So he stayed away. He hid away. Ignored the calls and did not respond to her texts. He had to maintain his façade. But he saw her, as she moved around his city; to the solicitor's, to the bank, to meet old friends and colleagues.
Just as he tailed her now. He would stop once she was at Greg's.
She was approaching the junction where one road branched off to Barts. Their old playing field. She stood at the junction and turned her face slightly behind. She paused for a moment, a small smile on her face and then continued walking in the opposite direction of Barts.
She knew he was there! He suddenly saw it as clear as daylight.
But then she could always see him, even when no one else could.
Although it was another three years before he could find the courage to show at her doorstep and stop running away.