There was something about the blankness of Saturday mornings that unsettled Daniel Stone. When he woke at the weekend, it wasn’t with the relief that he needn’t be in school, but rather with the concern of how to spend his time. Though his job no longer fulfilled him, it at least lent his weekdays some structure, some reason to rise and function. The same couldn’t be said for Saturdays and Sundays, nor the holidays that his colleagues anticipated as much as his students. For Daniel it was unnerving to have such an expanse of free time with which he knew not what to do.

He woke this morning to the sound of the front door being closed and was relieved that he would be alone. No doubt Mario and Luana were off on one of the long walks they took on the weekends that Mario wasn’t working. Without fail, they returned with streams of photographs which they then uploaded onto Mario’s laptop and insisted Daniel look at. He’d seen all the views they’d captured before, of course, but while their beauty had lasted, his interest hadn’t. It sometimes took considerable effort to simply smile and say, ‘Lovely.’
After a breakfast of bacon and eggs, he walked into Falmouth town centre and was just leaving the greengrocers when he heard a woman call his name. Once, twice. He turned to see Jane dressed to the nines in red heeled shoes and a red a white polka dotted dress. As she approached, he noticed that she smelt strongly of perfume.

‘I didn’t think you’d hear me,’ she said, tucking her hair behind her ears. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’

‘I live here.’

‘Oh, you know what I mean.’

‘You look smart.’

She flushed crimson. ‘I’ve been on a date.’

Daniel looked at his watch and saw that it was only half-past eleven. ‘Already?’

She looked at the ground, her feet pointed inward like a child’s. ‘It didn’t go very well.’ As she looked up, Daniel noticed a blur of sadness in her eyes. ‘In fact I could do with a friendly face. Do you fancy a coffee?’

On Jane’s suggestion, they walked round the corner to one of the town’s chain coffee shops that Daniel loathed; the sort of place in which students posed with books they wanted to be seen reading and tapped away on laptops in the hope that they were perceived to be intriguing.

‘I love it in here,’ said Jane as she ordered a coffee concoction that Daniel had never heard of. ‘What would you like?’

‘Just a black coffee.’

‘Oh no! You could have that at home. Why don’t you have a cappuccino?’

‘Okay, fine.’

‘Grande?’

‘What?’

‘It’s Italian for ‘large’.

‘Okay, that’s fine. Thanks.’

He took out his wallet to pay, but Jane pressed her hand on his arm and said, ‘My treat. You go and sit down.’

Doing as he was told, Daniel walked to the back of the café and took a seat at the only free table. At the table next to him was a young family with twin girls in identical pink tracksuits who were talking excitedly about a board game they’d played at their friend Abigail’s.

‘It’s like truth or dare,’ one said.

‘But better,’ the other offered. ‘Can we get it, Mummy? Can we?’

Noticing Daniel beside him, the father rolled his eyes and smiled.

When Jane came to the table, she placed down a tray with two drinks and a large slice of chocolate cake.

'There must be something wrong with me,’ she sighed as she took off her scarf. ‘I just never seem to meet the right kind of man. You'd think I'd have learnt something over the years, wouldn't you?'

Daniel shrugged. 'How did you meet?'

'Through the paper.'

'A blind date?'

With wide eyes, Jane glanced around the café.

'Shhh,' she said. 'Some of our kids might be in here. That's the last thing I need, gossip going round the school that I'm meeting men for,' her voice dropped to an almost inaudible whisper, 'blind dates.'

Daniel hadn't the heart to tell her that, actually, gossip had already been doing the rounds thanks to Marianne, one of the NQTs that Jane took under her wing a couple of months ago, someone she wrongly assumed she could trust.

He'd been in the staffroom one afternoon when he heard Marianne talking to Charlene, one of the other pretty, young, incompetent teachers.

'You know what I heard the other day?' she asked. Then, not waiting for an answer, 'Jane's meeting men for blind dates from ads in the newspaper. Has been for the last three years. Every weekend. Can you believe that?'

A gasp, a laugh. 'No way. Oh my God. Who told you?'
'Her.'

‘She didn’t!’ Another laugh. 'Christ. Well, I'm not being horrible, but that's probably the only way she'll meet a bloke, isn't it?'

'If I ever get like that, shoot me.'

It was then that Daniel interjected. With the pretence of using the kettle, he walked between the two women and said calmly, ‘How do you think Jane would feel if she heard what you were saying?’

Dropping her hand to her hip, Marianne tutted. ‘That was a private conversation, Daniel. What do you think about minding your own business?’

‘A private conversation isn’t private when it’s held in a public place for anyone to hear.’

Marianne sighed and shook her head. ‘Whatever. Come on, Charlene, let’s go.’

It wasn’t until they left that Daniel realized he was trembling with nerves. Though he hated confrontation, he hated malicious gossip more and he knew that Jane would have done the same for him. He just hoped she’d never have to.

'I knew as soon as he walked in that he wasn't interested,' Jane said now. 'I saw it in his eyes. He sort of looked me up and down and I knew he was disappointed. And you know what the worst thing is? I wasn't even attracted to him. I just wanted him to like me. I just wanted to be wanted. Does that make sense?’

'I suppose it does.'

Daniel took a sip of his overly frothy cappuccino. Did he know how it felt to be wanted? he wondered. Perhaps he did in the past, but over time that feeling had frozen and shattered inside him, along with the desire to hear the rhythm of another's sleep, the midnight murmurs and morning words. For the first three months after he and Samantha had separated, he’d found sleeping alone so strange that he was often woken by a stab of panic, reaching out to the emptiness beside him. Over time, though, that feeling passed until he was no longer able to imagine sharing not only his bed, but any part of his life.

When Jane spoke again, her voice was even quieter than before and she was staring into her cup. The sparkle she’d had about her before was gone, replaced with a frown of concern.

'Do you ever wish you'd done things differently?’ she asked.

The level of her voice revealed an intimacy Daniel had never heard before, and he realized with discomfort that she was about to confide in him. Talk of Jane’s blind date was fine, for that was simply her life on the surface, an incident she could put down to experience and move on from. But he sensed she was about to tell him something deeper than that, something closer to her regrets of the past, fears of the future. And if he knew her, she’d expect to know his. And that wasn’t something he wanted to share. Not with Jane, not with anyone.

'I wish I'd never become a teacher to start with,' he joked in an attempt to prevent the conversation becoming more personal.

'I'm serious, Daniel,' Jane said. 'We're a similar age. We're both alone. Do you ever wish you'd done something differently? Because I do. I wish I'd made more effort.'

'What with?'

'My marriage,' she said, cutting the cake on the plate in half. 'I wish I'd tried harder.'

Uncomfortable with her honesty, Daniel looked out of the window at the harbour below, boat sails blowing in the light breeze. Though Jane had never told him so explicitly, over time he’d come to realize that her husband had left her for another woman.

When he dropped her home one evening, she’d insisted he come in to ‘borrow this book that I just know you’ll love’ and he saw that she still had her wedding picture on the mantelpiece. While she was upstairs getting the book, Daniel looked closer at the picture to see that she looked like another person; slender, pretty, happy. A man on her arm, a smile on her face.

Though she wasn’t morbidly obese now, he was certain that she was larger than she’d choose to be. The endless diets that she started and finished in a fortnight were testament to this. It really didn't take much to see that she began to eat the moment he left. Eating, eating, eating as if she could somehow satisfy her hunger for companionship.

After all, hadn't Daniel himself tried a similar tactic? For years he'd believed that if he starved the feelings he had for men, they would simply die: if he didn't look over his shoulder at the man in the street, if he didn't close his eyes and imagine Samantha's body was not hers. But, as he learnt, a fast could only last so long.

‘Will you have half of this?’ Jane asked, pushing the cake towards him. ‘I shouldn’t be eating it at all, but at the moment I couldn’t care less. What’s a weekend without a little indulgence?’

She forced a laugh and, though he wasn’t hungry, Daniel took the slice she was offering.

‘I think you probably tried your hardest with your marriage,’ he said. ‘You can’t keep hold of someone who doesn’t want to be held. It wouldn’t have worked.’

Jane sighed. ‘You’re probably right. I suppose I’m just feeling sorry for myself.’

Like a father comforting a child, Daniel smiled and said, ‘Well, we’re all guilty of that.’

After they’d finished their drinks, Jane asked, ‘So, what have you planned for the rest of the day?’

‘Not much. I’ve a little more shopping to do, a book to finish this evening.’

‘Oh, the lives we lead,’ she joked.

Already her spirits seemed lifted and Daniel felt a burst of admiration for her strength.

When they walked outside and were back on the busy pavement, Jane said, ‘It’s short notice, I know, but would you like to come over for dinner tonight? If you’re not doing anything else, I mean.’

Her question took Daniel by surprise. In all the years that he’d and Jane had known one another, they’d never once arranged to meet outside of school hours.

Yet though he was taken aback, there was a sadness in her eyes that made him realise there was no other answer he could give but, ‘Thank you, that would be nice.’

Jane’s face broke into a smile and she clapped her hands. ‘Wonderful. Say half seven for eight?’