Forever, maybe - a grown-up story about love, life, friendship and family

Ten pence meals

"Nell, isn't it?" Nell, busy contemplating the express supermarket's display of food that had almost reached its sell-by date and was thus marked down and wondering if that would be her lot for ever more, turned towards the questioner.

The red-headed guy, his blue eyes and twinkly expression familiar, grinned at her. He indicated the packet of sliced chicken in Nell's hand.

"Buy that, and the stir-fry sauce."

He picked up a packet of Blue Dragon hoisin sauce sporting a yellow label, informing customers it had been reduced to ten pence.

"Bargain basement meal. Two pounds thirty pee for something that'll feed you and your husband for at least three nights. Tagdh, by the way. We met in Lock Down a few months ago."

Oh, him. From the good old days when her worst problem was Danny's continued workaholicism. She'd returned home—finally—the night before, reeling from the blow of Cate's diagnosis, its impact made a thousand times worse by walking into a silent house, the wardrobe and drawers upstairs emptied of all Danny's clothes and shoes.

She placed the chicken in her basket. "Hi there. D'you live around here then?"

He shook his head. "Nah. My dog's outside. Thought I'd take her for a walk around Queen's Park."

"Nice day for it."

Tadgh returned the hoisin sauce to the shelf, where it balanced precariously. When it fell off and onto the floor, he didn't bother picking it up. "Ma gran lives around here too. She's in the old folks home the other side o' the park, so I better go see her too. No' that she'll ken who I am. She's doolally these days."

Should Nell correct him? Imagine if someone described her mum as doolally... For what felt like the hundredth time that week, tears welled in Nell's eyes.

"Are you alright?" Tadgh stared at the hand she used to brush away the tears. In a fit of despair that morning, she had wrenched off her wedding ring, telling herself she needed to get used to it not being there.

"It's nothing."

"Well, that's a lie. Tell you what. Why don't you come with me to walk Coco?" He gestured behind him to Queen's Park.

Still offended by the doolally comment and about to refuse, Nell changed her mind. She was sick and tired of her own company. Asking a stranger questions about his life would take her mind off her own. She paid for the food, and Tadgh insisted on carrying the bag for her even though all it had in it was the chicken, some stir-fry vegetables and a small loaf of wholemeal bread.

Tadgh's dog—a chocolate brown Staffordshire bull terrier—was tied up outside and greeted them both with a great deal of enthusiasm, planting her front paws on Nell's legs, as Tadgh uttered feeble admonishments that she get down.

They set off for Queen's Park, which to the left and on the other side of the road. It was mostly empty—it being a Tuesday morning. Small children teetered around the playground, darting from the swings to the slide and the roundabout, whisked up into protective parental arms whenever it looked as if they might veer too close to danger.

A dark-haired man, around Daniel's age, crouched down, solemnly talking to a small girl Nell guessed was his daughter, who listened for a few seconds before telling him she hated him and running off.

The man straightened up, sighing.

"Weans, eh?" Tadgh said. "Nothing I've ever seen ever convinces me they're a good idea."

Nell blinked back tears once more. It was alright for Tadgh; just as it was alright for Danny. Mother Nature allowed men the luxurious indulgence of never taking the choice away from them. Danny might not even wait for the ink to dry on his decree nisi before throwing himself out there, hooking up with a late twenty-something/early thirty-something and pro-creating like crazy.