Free Mouse by D. M. Mitchell

‘I will marry you!’
    ‘Wonderful!’ he said, squeezing her fingers tight and getting up. He leant forward and kissed her, but she looked very agitated again. ‘What’s wrong?’
    ‘She pulled her hand away from his. ‘You might not want to marry me when I tell you…’ She fell into silence.
    ‘Tell me what?’
    ‘There are things about me you don’t know.’
    ‘I know all I need to know, Laura. Nothing you can say can be so bad it will stop me marrying you.’ He clasped her hand again. ‘You can tell me, if you wish, in your own sweet time. But let’s just enjoy tonight.’
    She nodded, her face sullen. ‘And I cannot…’ She struggled to find the words. ‘I cannot…’
    ‘You cannot what?’
    ‘I cannot sleep with you till after we are married,’ she said in a rush. ‘There, you will not want to marry me now,’ she said, rising to her feet. ‘You will think me strange. But that is who I am, because of what has happened to me and I can’t do anything about that, can I?’
    His arm wrapped around her waist and he eased her down to the bench again. ‘That sort of thing doesn’t matter to me one jot,’ he assured her. ‘And I really don’t care about what happened in the past. I love the present Laura. We’ll take things one step at a time’
    ‘Really? You are not annoyed or disappointed in me?’
    ‘What a thing to say! What kind of a man do you take me for?’
    ‘Please don’t let this be a cruel joke,’ she said, her eyes filling again. ‘If I find you are not being serious I will die. I could not take the heartache it would bring.’
    ‘You have my word. I love you, Laura.’
    ‘And I love you too,’ she said. ‘So much it hurts me inside.’
    They sat holding each other tightly, in profound silence, listening to the distant sound of cars humming on tarmac. ‘Perhaps now you might let me into your home,’ he said in a whisper, stroking her hair tenderly.
    ‘Perhaps I will,’ she said, her voice muffled by his jacket. She was staring at the ring on her finger, hardly daring to believe it was true.
    Casper Younge smiled. ‘That’s good,’ he said.
     
     
    He felt as if someone had taken a spoon and scooped out his insides, slowly, painfully, and then left him to die a lingering, miserable death. Heartache wasn’t heartache at all; it was a vile torture endured by the entire body and he didn’t like how it felt one little bit. He’d never experienced anything quite like this before. Vince Moody had suffered misery in his time, but these were dark new depths he was sinking into where the immense pressure was about to crush him.
    He didn’t deny she deserved to be happy, just as he was destined always to be miserable and lonely, a fact given additional weight on seeing the happy couple together. Now the name that used to give him such pleasure inspired only agony every time it fired through his mind. Laura, Laura, Laura. Like bullets to the soul.
    Vince switched on his Ever Ready bicycle lights and began to pedal away from the cinema yard. He’d taken his time locking up because there was nothing to rush for. Life had ceased to matter. He pedalled down the main street, heading home, and then he saw them – Laura and her new man-friend. They were strolling arm in arm along the pavement, she with her head resting snugly against his shoulder. He averted his gaze; felt embarrassed even though Laura didn’t know who he was, had probably never even looked in his direction. He was all but invisible to the couple so lost in their romantic rapture.
    As he drew level with them they paused by a car that was parked at the side of the road, the man unlocking the door to get in. Vince’s insides got all screwed up when he saw him kiss Laura. But some way past them he brought his cycle to a halt and turned round to look at the car.
    It was a white Ford Cortina. He was certain it was the very same car he’d seen that day a while ago in the field near Devereux Towers . The day he saw