The atmosphere is electric, the music is blaring, the bar is at least four deep. Jasmine makes a beeline for me, waving an ivory envelope in her hand.
‘Wedding invitation time! We’re on a budget, so my dad offered to set us up with a marquee at the back of their house, so it’s nothing fancy, just simple.’
‘And beautiful,’ I reassure her, watching her cheeks begin to flush. ‘You and Dylan are madly in love and it’s going to be the happiest day of your lives, that’s what’s important.’
‘Thanks, Lily. I can’t wait. Promise you’ll come.’
‘I haven’t been to a good wedding in such a long time. I wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ I tell her, meaning every word.
She fans herself with another white envelope but looks at me with uncertainty etched across her face. ‘This invite was for Christopher, so I don’t know quite what to do with it now. I mean, we’d love him to come, but I guess he’ll be busy with his new job now, and Newbridge might be a little too far away to come just for a wedding!’
‘What do you mean?’ I look up and down the bar, expecting to see Christopher but he’s nowhere to be seen. Surely he must be on his way down. He wouldn’t miss this for the world.
Jasmine nods and considers the envelope. ‘One of the shareholders took him aside and offered him a new position travelling the world, big pay rise, all that. He looked really excited, said he’d never have been offered something like that if he hadn’t come to the Gazette. They want him to roll out the same model for them across all their media agencies. Are you all right, Lily? You look shocked.’
Christopher is going! Just like that? Without even saying anything?
I shake my head. ‘What a day, so many changes.’
Can your whole world really tip upside down in less than twenty-four hours? You bet.
‘Yep, they told him his work at the Gazette was done and he had to go pack up his things. I told him we’d be here, but he’s probably on the road by now.’ Jasmine flips the wedding invitation in her hand. ‘I’ll post it to him anyway; I’ve got his address on the system. At least that way he knows that’s he’s invited and that we’d love him to come and he can make his own call.’
Mark sidles up to us and spots the envelope with Christopher’s name in Jasmine’s hand.
‘I doubt we’ll be seeing him again. He came, he consulted, he moved on. And now he’s landed himself an even better offer somewhere else.’
‘He really liked it here!’ I say, a little more defensively than I intended. I need to talk to Christopher face to face, find out from him what exactly happened. For all I know it’s already too late.
Mark takes a long slug of his pint. ‘Someone like him was never going to settle in a small town like this, working on a paper like ours. People like him are cut-throat ambitious. The grass is always greener, there’s always another rung on the ladder. They look down on us, happy with our little lives, simple pleasures, not out scheming and turning deals at every corner.’
So, according to Mark, Christopher didn’t really care about any of this, about any of us, about me. And I know I haven’t always been the best judge of character, but this really doesn’t sound right to me. After all, he doesn’t know him like I do. He doesn’t know how happy Christopher was here in Newbridge and how much he loved the team and how free he felt stepping outside of his old life. Until I speak with him, I just can’t figure out what to think, what to believe, what to feel. Other than the aching loss of him.
I make my excuses to go, explaining that my mum is home alone and that I need to get back to her, but really, I’m going straight to Christopher’s flat.
Mark licks the cream from his top lip. ‘His girlfriend is hot though, I’ll say that for him. He certainly gets the women.’ Hearing this comment stops me in my tracks.
‘Pardon? What girlfriend?’
‘I saw him in the car park with some blonde in a white suit, one of the London crowd, then he got in her car and they both drove off into the sunset.’
Victoria.
No way.
I suddenly feel extremely hot. I grab the back of my neck and look around me, not able to focus on anything in particular. I’m trying to say something coherent, but I’m just managing half-sighs and low groans. It’s as if someone has come up behind me and pierced me in the back. And I’m deflating. Right here. All my air and energy is just flooding out of my body.
I need to go. I scramble for my bag, say my goodbyes and shoot out the door, muttering to myself in the darkness. With every step I take, I can’t help but wonder how I got everything so wrong. Again.
Twenty-Four
The cottage is quiet and dark when I get home. I can see a thin line of light under Mum’s bedroom door and I can faintly make out that she’s speaking with someone on the phone. Hopefully it’s Maxwell.
I slide out of my work clothes and into my soft, slouchy pyjamas. I pour myself a large glass of red wine and drink it with a toasted chocolate spread sandwich. I switch off my phone, dim all the main lights and lie down on the sofa, Chaplin in the crook of my arm. And I cry.
It’s not just Christopher. It’s everything. Good tears that the Gazette made it, sad tears that I wasn’t there to be part of it. Good tears that my mum is okay, worried tears that I have no idea how we’re going to get along and if living together under this roof without my grandmother as mediator is even going to work. Good tears that I’m invited to Jasmine and Dylan’s wedding, very anxious tears that I will be flooded with bad memories of my own disaster when I hear the wedding march. Good tears that I’ve had such an amazing time with Christopher, that he did turn out to be truly ‘transformational’ to me, that I loved every second of being with him and I really felt happier and more confident than I ever have before. But I can’t even categorise the tears that are falling at the thought of Christopher walking away from me.
I hear a rapping on my window. ‘Lily? Lily? Are you in there?’
It’s Christopher. For sure.
‘Lily? It’s me, it’s Christopher!’
‘I know,’ I call back. I can’t help myself.
‘I need to talk to you.’
‘You are talking to me.’ Why has he come here? Why can’t he just leave me be? I know what’s coming. That pitiful look. That sham apology. This feels exactly like I’m back in the sacristy with Adam. And I promised myself I would never let that happen to me again.
‘I needed to see you. Face to face.’
He’s outside my house, peering through the living room window, through a crack in the curtains. Damn that crack.
I throw my head back and sling my legs from the armrest of the sofa, walking slowly to the window.
‘Lily! What’s wrong? Have you been crying?’
I shake my head. ‘No. Just tired. I’m really, really tired, Christopher, so if this is your goodbye, then let’s just do it quickly, okay?’ I want this to be over as quickly as possible, before I get hurt any more.
His faces creases in confusion. ‘I really need to speak with you. Can I come in?’
I shake my head. ‘My mum’s resting. It’s not a good time.’ I can’t bear to hear him tell me that he’s back with Victoria. I won’t be able to hold myself together and I don't want him to see me like that.
‘Well, can you come out?’
The lights of a car flash in the distance.
‘Victoria?’
He looks confused. ‘Yes. She’s just giving me a lift back to London. Looks like I’m all done at the Gazette. It appears you don’t need me any more! You’ve done such a good job, they’re happy to back off and leave you to it. So, my time is up.’
‘I guess congrats are in order then. You came, you conquered, time to move on, I understand. Newbridge and the Gazette and everything else was just a stepping stone, like you said.’
‘Well, that’s what I thought at first, but… Please, Lily, give me two minutes.’
We hear the car horn honk.
‘She really doesn�
�t like waiting, does she?’ And who can blame her, she’s desperate to get Christopher back to London and have him all to herself again after his little foray in Newbridge.
‘I need to be at a meeting in London tomorrow and I can’t take all my stuff on the train, so I had to jump in with her. Please, Lily, hear me out and then I’ll leave. I promise.’
I suppose he deserves that at least. But I also know I have to end this, before I’m left heartbroken again.
I motion to the door and open it slightly, but leave it on the chain.
He steps in closer and reaches out his hands to me. I put mine in my pockets.
‘Sky Group offered me a job after the Gazette presentation,’ Christopher says. ‘A really great job and one that means a lot of travel – Japan, Bali, all the places I really want to see. The company’s huge and have offices everywhere. Small offices that need a digital presence, just like the Gazette. They’ve offered me a Director post, brand new division, so I’d have lots of freedom. It’s everything I’ve worked so hard to get. I’d be insane to turn it down. I need to take this chance, Lily. I need to go. But here’s the thing…’ He steps in to me, trying to meet my eyes. ‘It doesn’t mean we can’t try and work something out. If we both want to, I know we’d find a way. That’s why we’re so good together, Lily. We make ways, me and you. What do you say?’
He cups my cheek with his hand and softly brushes a long tear away with his thumb.
I groan out loud. Squeeze my eyes shut.
Right, I’ve got this all wrong. He’s not running off with Victoria. He never planned to. He wants us to be together. He wants us to give it a shot.
I try to speak but can’t for all the garbled tears in my throat.
My heart is churning in my chest. I would so love to believe him. I’d love to jump up and wrap my arms around him and say yes! We can do it!
But then the reality hits me of what it’s really going to be like.
Deep down, I know I can trust him. But can I trust myself? Can I trust myself not to live in constant suspicion, on guard all the time, jumping to conclusions every time he’s late or on a business trip or Victoria calls or makes a snide comment?
However far I’ve come, I don’t think my insecurity can stand up against this. I was so quick to accept Mark’s explanation about Victoria and Christopher, even after everything we’d shared over the last few weeks. I’ve got scars. I can’t just wish them away. There’ll be paranoid stalking of his social media every five seconds to see where he is, who he is with, questioning who that girl is in the background, wondering if the next time I see him it’s to tell me it’s over, that he’s met someone else. Or he’s back with Victoria. Which may only be a matter of time; she’s fixated by him, and it’s clear she’s not going to lose him over someone as peripheral as me. And the whole heart-break tsunami will overtake me again. But this time I’m afraid it will suck me under and I won’t be able to fight my way out.
And it will be so much worse than before because a) I should know better second time around and learn from my mistakes, and b) I know now how long it takes to recover. Adam was hard enough, but getting over Christopher will take a lot of time and a lot of soul-searching. And soul-searching is exhausting.
‘Christopher, it’s okay. I understand. You’re free to go. I don’t know why you’re explaining to me. It was just a work thing that spilled over, a casual fling, nothing important.’
He stops and stares at me. ‘You think that? You honestly think that you’re not important to me? Is that why you’re acting like you don’t care because you think that I don’t care?’
I shrug. ‘I don’t know what to think. I don’t want any more thinking. Or feeling or worrying or second-guessing or trying to get in anyone else’s head. Been there done that and it’s not fun. Believe me, you won’t find it fun either, so why bother? You’re moving on to better things, I’m staying here with my life, my job and…’ I point behind me into the living room, ‘my mum’s here now too, so I’m pretty full up.’
‘So you actually don’t care. That’s why you didn’t want anyone to know about us at the paper?’ He runs his fingers through his hair. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you? This isn’t important to you. Just a casual work fling.’
‘Exactly,’ I lie.
He takes a step back from me. Searching my face, trying to read my thoughts. He shakes his head. ‘I don’t believe you, Lily. I know you. And what you’re saying doesn’t add up.’
Victoria honks four times. The last honk is extra-long.
I shake my head. ‘Go. Please. Just leave.’
I hate this but if today has shown me anything, it’s that I’m not ready for this. Will I ever be? Will I ever escape the fear of being deceived? Of being betrayed?
‘Just like that, you’re calling time on us. We’ve only just started, Lily.’
And that’s exactly why now is the time to stop.
‘You can’t stay, Christopher, and I can’t go. We both know you were only ever here temporarily. This is the right thing to do; you can’t miss your big chance. It might never come again.’
He nods, his lips pressed together. He knows I’m right. I wish I wasn’t.
‘Is this really what you want? To end things?’
I shrug. ‘It was just a work fling.’
He shakes his head. ‘Don’t tell me that the late nights working on the paper, the night we spent at The Shankley, karaoke after the Golden Wok, that that was all just a fling. It was so much more, you know it was.’
‘I’m sorry, Christopher.’
‘Will you miss me?’ he asks anxiously.
I force myself to smile. But I don’t answer him. ‘Your work here is done. So congratulations and good luck.’ And then I shut the door and let him go.
Twenty-Five
‘Who was that at the door, Lily?’ Mum asks as she waves me into her bedroom.
‘Just a guy from work.’
Which is technically true. If only.
She holds out her hand to me. ‘Sit down a second, there’s something I need to tell you. I’ve been carrying it with me and I need to get it off my chest.’
I hold my head in my hands.
No. Please, please no. The absolute last thing I need now is a therapy session with my mum.
But this is her all over. Oblivious to the fact that there might be something big and important and urgent and emotional going on in my life. Oblivious to the fact that this might be a bad time for me. That I may be the one in need of support. That sitting here in my grandmother’s bedroom just reminds me of how alone I am in the world. How I used to come here and, without one word, Granny would know something was up and she’d gather me into her. How I remember the scent of her – lavender and lemon peel if she’d been outside, cinnamon and spiced apple if she’d been cooking. She’d rock me very slightly as we’d wait, wordless, for the feeling to surge and settle and soon slip away.
That was the way my grandmother raised me. Filling my life with patience and encouragement and endless loving attention. And I miss her so much. But she is gone. Just bittersweet memories remain. And now Mum is here.
If Mum didn’t literally land in the state she was in today, I’d hold my hands up and say sorry, any time but now. My heart is breaking and I just need some space to get over this – alone.
But I’m here as Granny now. It falls to me to be the strong, patient, selfless one. And Mum still looks pretty frail. I take a deep breath.
‘Okay.’ I sit down beside her, tucking my legs in beneath me.
‘It’s about Adam.’
I rub my hands down my face. I thought she was going to offload something about herself. Not me! I can’t take any more! Can’t she tell that I’m not able to deal with this right now? I just want to curl up in my bed and cry. Alone. Get as snotty and ugly as I want to and then tomorrow I can start to move on, start to feel better. At least that’s the plan, because it’s unlikely tomorrow everything’s going to be OK. It’s unlikely to be OK
for quite a while.
‘Can we do this another time, Mum, I’m tired.’
She puts her palms up to me. ‘Holding on to everything is making me ill. Please, let me tell you this. I need to let it out.’
I jump up from the bed. ‘Mum, I’m sorry for whatever happened, between you and Maxwell, but you can’t just show up here in a storm, kick up chaos, disrupt everyone with big revelations of the past just because you need to offload.’
She looks at me, stunned.
‘I’ve had enough. Did it ever occur to you for one second that I might not want to know? That I might want to leave all that shit behind? That today may be the worst possible time to divulge something to me that makes me feel even more desperate and tragic and lonely than I already feel?’
Her hands are pressed against her chest. She looks like she’s about to cry. She shakes her head. ‘Of course, I’m so sorry. Of course, I’ll just get my things. I’ll call a taxi. I can stay at a B&B. I’m sorry, Lily. I should have thought. I’m sorry.’
I turn to the wall and feel like banging my head against it. How come neither of us can ever seem to do the right thing? How is it we lost our way so badly, not even able to communicate now?
Chaplin pops out from under the bed, tugging at something caught in the carpet. We both look down. A twisting tendril from a royal blue fascinator.
The one my grandmother wore on my wedding day.
My mother frees it from the snagging carpet and lifts it in to her lap.
‘Do you think it’s a sign?’ she says, her face suddenly innocent and wide-eyed.
I shrug. ‘Could be. Maybe she’s telling us to get over ourselves. To look after each other a bit better.’
My mother nods slowly. ‘I know it hurts. I’ve rehearsed this a million times and, trust me, there’s no easy way to break this to you. The last thing I ever wanted was to see you hurt, my darling. That’s exactly why I did it, so you wouldn’t get hurt! But, believe me, if he didn’t come clean, if he didn’t tell you the truth before the wedding, then I was going to. Over my dead body were you going to swear your life away to that ballbag.’
For Once In My Life: An absolutely perfect laugh-out-loud romantic comedy Page 22