Always With Love

by Giovanna Fletcher

  ‘Yeah,’ I say, trying not to sound too sad as I leave the path and turn on to my road. ‘You do what you’ve got to do.’

  ‘Have you put out an ad for part-time staff yet?’ he asks.

  ‘Give me a chance, I’ve only just got back.’

  ‘Oh yeah. It just already feels like you’ve been gone ages,’ he chuckles, before sounding more serious. ‘I don’t want you overworking yourself though. You work hard enough as it is.’

  ‘Colin has said he’ll help out when he can.’

  ‘The joy of being self-employed.’

  ‘Exactly,’ I agree. ‘He’s like my Fairy Godmother. I’ll just need to sort someone a bit more permanent for when you go in February.’

  ‘Am I losing my job?’ he asks, genuinely sounding worried.

  ‘If I find someone who can actually bake then you might,’ I tease, loving the fact he can make me smile even when he’s thousands of miles away.

  ‘You said I was good!’ he says.

  ‘We are talking about baking, right?’

  ‘Ha!’

  ‘You’re the best,’ I smile, lingering outside my house now that I’ve arrived home.

  ‘I think I might need that in writing.’

  ‘Deal.’

  ‘I’ll frame it,’ he says seriously, making me giggle, thankful that things feel more normal between us.

  16

  The following week I arrive home from a long day in the shop after a birthday party. The group of ten women all had afternoon tea – something I’ve only recently introduced but is going down a storm – to find Mum, Colin, Aaron and a very giddy Charlotte watching Frozen for the ten-millionth time. Although Colin has his eyes shut and Mum is flicking through bridal magazines.

  I love walking in on them like this. The content family atmosphere they create never fails to pull me in, making me feel secure and loved. Funny to think there were times I felt quite the opposite in the Buskin household, even though there’s a public perception of them as an idyllic family from little old England. I guess no such thing exists. We all have our cracks and flaws.

  ‘Guess what I got today!’ Charlotte squeals, jumping up from the sofa to greet me, with her Minnie Mouse cuddly toy and a piece of paper in her hand.

  ‘What?’ I ask, removing my coat, scarf, gloves and hat, then giving myself a little shake to rid the cold that seems to be glued to me even though I’m back indoors.

  ‘A letter from Billy!’ she gushes, opening up the piece of paper. Her delighted brown eyes give it another good look, before she passes it to me.

  ‘She’s not put it down since she opened it,’ says Colin, sending me an appreciative wink.

  ‘Wow, this is amazing,’ I say, rubbing her back as I read it.

  ‘He said he’s going to be my penpal,’ she grins with excitement, roughly pushing a strand of long brown hair from her face. ‘I’m going to write back tonight. Dad said I can use my new purple pen. Even though I’m only allowed to write in black or blue at school. I might use some stickers too.’

  ‘It’ll look beautiful. He’ll love it,’ I say, cherishing how such a small and simple thing has made her so happy and that she has thought so creatively about what to send back.

  ‘Your dinner is in the kitchen, Soph,’ Mum says, starting to get up.

  ‘Don’t worry, you sit down. I’ll go get it,’ I say, gesturing for her to relax. I’m not the only one who’s been at work all day. ‘What is it?’ I ask, turning to leave.

  ‘Chili con carne. I’ve already plated it up for you,’ she calls after me. ‘Oh, and there’s some post for you on the side too, love.’

  On my way to the kitchen I pass the side table in the hall and pick up the two letters addressed to me. One looks like a boring bill, while the address on the other is handwritten and has an airmail sticker on it. Along the seam of the closed envelope, in familiar handwriting, is written ‘Always with love’.

  Billy.

  Placing my dinner in the microwave to heat up, I shut the door and rip open the envelope.

  Thursday 14th January 2016

  Dearest Sophie,

  I know you’re all modern these days with your phone, laptop and the fact you’re even on blooming Twitter AND Instagram (when I’m not) but I thought we could take things old school and act like we’re in one of those old books you’re permanently reading. It’ll give our grandchildren something to be amazed by when we’re long gone. No doubt they’ll stumble upon a dusty and weathered box in the attic and open it with delight as they realize how much love we once shared … or how bad my spelling, grammar and punctuation were. Either way, it’ll be insightful.

  In short, I know I’ve already agreed to be Charlotte’s penpal, but I thought having something tangible being shared between the two of us might help bridge the gap that’s about to be forced upon us just a little bit more. So please be the leading lady of my handwritten love story and reply.

  ‘He waited day after day, saying that it was perfectly absurd to expect, yet expecting …’

  You probably recognize that one, it’s from Jude the Obscure. And NO, I’ve not read the copy you left here, but decided to Google it on my phone to see if there was a good quote I could nab to make you think I did. This was all I could find that could possibly work in a letter without it looking like I’ve lost the plot entirely … looks like a bleak book, Miss May!

  Anyway, I digress.

  See you in a few days!

  Always with love,

  Your Billy Buskin

  xxx

  I feel as though I might join Charlotte and carry the letter everywhere with me – keeping it close by so that I can have a little look when the pangs of being apart get too much. This first week has been quite difficult, especially as the press haven’t exactly helped matters. The first story might have disappeared like Billy said it would (not that I’ve been looking), but that hasn’t stopped the pitiful looks I’ve been attracting from locals whenever they see me.

  But this letter, it makes my heart smile.

  Billy’s right, it’s so nice feeling like I actually have a piece of him in my possession. Knowing that he’s handled, thought about and created this little note especially for me is incredibly special and heartwarming.

  What a romantic thought, I think to myself as the microwave pings to let me know my food is ready. Before retrieving it, I take out my phone and send a text.

  Thank you for putting a smile on my face. I love you. xxxx

  I get a reply within seconds.

  You kids and your modern technology! ;-)

  I grin as I grab my plate and a fork, and walk in to join the others.

  17

  Monday 15th February 2016

  Dearest Sophie,

  I’m writing this on the plane heading back out to LA. Yes, I know I’ve only just left you, but it feels so strange not to know exactly when I’m going to be seeing you again. Going from working and living together to being miles apart and in different time zones is going to kill me. I hope you know that. I hope you know how difficult it was saying goodbye today. Please don’t think it’s easy for me.

  I actually cried as I made my way through security earlier. Totally acted as though I had something in my eye, though. I think I managed to style it out. My escort asked if I wanted to stop off in Boots for some eyewash … I went along with it and bought some. Ha!

  I’m so glad you’ve finally got an extra pair of hands in the shop. I know Colin and your mum (and Charlotte and Aaron) do all they can to help out, but I think having someone permanent will definitely lighten your load. Plus, you’ll feel less guilty about taking time off to come and see me … I’m not going to push you on this one as I know how busy you are and that you have more than me to worry about – but just know I’d love to have you back in LA with me. I want you by my side, baby. Hopefully it won’t be too long until you are.

  Always with love,

  Your Billy

  xxx

  This letter arrives a
t the shop with Postman Steven just before eight in the morning – meaning I, thankfully, don’t have to wait until I get home to find he’s written. It really helps lift my spirits.

  Billy came back home for a few weeks and everything was great again. Back to normal even, just with added movie chat from everyone in the village. Needless to say they were all chuffed to see him back on the High Street and to quash those pesky break-up rumours that were floating around. The newspapers also backtracked on their gossip slightly, although they made it seem more like we’d reconciled rather than admitting they’d got it totally wrong in the first place. It doesn’t really matter though, as I’ve promised myself not to look any more at whatever they choose to write. It’s not like anything positive can come from me reading a bunch of extremely loose facts about myself.

  It was gorgeous having Billy back in our tranquil little bubble … I think we were living in utter denial to be honest, but the weeks flew by and before we knew it he was saying goodbye to us at Heathrow, promising both me and Charlotte that he’d continue to write.

  He’s right, it’s horrible not knowing when we’re going to be together again. Although I know that, realistically, it’s up to me to find the time and make the journey. I can simply organize cover for the shop and go, whereas his schedule is dictated by a huge team of people who have paid an obscene amount of money for him to be there.

  But things are changing here too. Last week was the start of a whole new chapter for me because it was the first week I’ve actively hired an employee and not roped in Billy or a family member to help. I’ve hired Rachel, who is a mum of twin boys and the wife of Shane – a guy I dated a very long time ago. To others this could be an embarrassing set up, but there’s no escaping some sort of history when you live in a small village like ours. You’d end up with no one to talk to. Plus, our history together was years ago and I really like Rachel.

  I didn’t actually make the connection between them at first because I heard they’d moved away before getting married and having children. However, they then decided to move back to the area, as we have excellent little schools round here.

  When I reopened the shop after Molly passed away, Rachel used to come in with her boys Nathan and James and some of her mummy friends every Wednesday morning. She then started coming in on her own more often once the boys started school, enjoying a bit of time to herself once she’d dropped them off at the gates. No doubt she was rejoicing at having time for a quiet cuppa and a guilt-free slice of cake, without having her two munchkins to fuss over (or share said cake with).

  I was quite surprised when she asked about the position the day I put a little handwritten advertisement in the window a couple of weeks ago.

  ‘I was just wondering,’ she asked, her mouth twitching as she spoke. ‘How many hours were you looking for?’

  ‘Pardon?’ I asked, trying not to get too distracted by Billy fist pumping the air behind her as he went to deliver a ham and pickle sandwich to Mrs Wallis.

  ‘The job?’ Rachel frowned, pointing towards the window.

  ‘Oh!’ I laughed, feeling like a twit. ‘Ideally full-time and doing five days a week if possible.’

  ‘Right …’ she replied thoughtfully, clearly thinking something through.

  ‘Were you … ?’

  ‘Well, yes. I’ve been looking for something now that the boys are at school. It’s great that it’s local, but I’d have to see if I can work around the hours.’

  ‘I see,’ I said, looking at her pensively. ‘Why don’t you have a chat with Shane and I’ll have a little think too. See if we can work something out between us.’

  ‘Really?’ she asked, a beaming smile on her face. ‘Will I need to come in for an interview?’

  ‘Molly never believed in them. Finding the right person was more important than putting someone on the spot and making them feel inadequate,’ I smiled, thinking back to when Molly had first employed me at eighteen.

  ‘Well, thank you. I’ll be back first thing tomorrow as soon as I’ve dropped the boys off.’

  And she was. The next morning she bounced into the shop and told me that she and Shane had talked it over and spoken to both their mums. The idea was that she could work eight until four in the week if everyone else helped with taking the boys to and from school, but only if I didn’t need her to close up the shop.

  I was thrilled and went one step further, saying she could alternate her days and sometimes start earlier and finish at three so that she could pick up the boys too – meaning she wouldn’t feel the mummy guilt or like she was missing out. I didn’t mind closing up the shop on my own, or dealing with the influx of schoolgirls at around three thirty. They only ever want skinny cupcakes and herbal teas anyway.

  The key to making the whole thing work with Rachel, we decided, was flexibility. I liked her and knew I wanted to make it work, if possible. Obviously I still had the problem of getting someone in on Saturdays (we’ve always closed on Sundays, but that’s village mentality again), but I hoped Mum or Colin would like to get involved for now while I found a local schoolgirl who wanted to earn a bit of cash. Rachel has said she doesn’t mind doing the odd Saturday here and there either, so that’s helpful.

  I felt relieved the position was snatched up quickly and by someone who seemed so willing and, more importantly, competent.

  So last week marked the start of that new friendship and working relationship. I’ll openly admit that I am extremely naff at being around new people (though I am getting better at it), but I somehow found myself looking forward to the new arrangement. I never thought that would happen after years of preferring my own company, although Molly and the shop definitely helped to rid me of most of my unusual ways.

  ‘Morning,’ Rachel sings, as she comes through the door and joins me behind the counter.

  ‘Good night?’ I ask. One week in and this seems to be the standard rapport we start our mornings with.

  ‘Both the boys were in bed by seven-thirty and Shane was out with his cricket lot, so I treated myself to a glass of wine and a bath. I feel fab,’ she shares, her blue eyes shining brightly. The indulgence has clearly done her good. ‘Love letter?’ she asks, peering at the paper in my hand.

  Even though it’s from Billy I feel myself blushing before I fold it up and put it into my back pocket.

  ‘How romantic,’ Rachel smiles, walking past me to hang up her coat and bag, before pulling a stripy green apron over her faded blue jeans and white t-shirt and tying her blonde hair back so that it’s off her face. I haven’t tried to make her wear a headscarf like the one I wear each day, although maybe I should at some point. It used to be part of my uniform when I first started working for Molly, but now I do it out of habit rather than anything else.

  As I continue to work my way through the morning’s batch of treats and delights, I watch as Rachel goes about her own list of morning tasks with confidence and ease, not having to be reminded how to do anything I’ve shown her. In fact, she does what I’ve asked and more. Even just one week in she really has shrunk my workload dramatically, making me wonder why I didn’t employ someone else from the start. Saying that, I really wanted to show myself that I was capable of doing more than I thought. I succeeded in that mission but am now thankful to be relinquishing some responsibility.

  ‘Do you miss being out in LA?’ Rachel asks, once the cakes have been displayed in the cabinet and she’s organized all the corresponding labels correctly – little cards that detail what the cake is, what’s in it, and how much it costs.

  ‘I miss Billy,’ I reply. ‘The place I can take or leave.’

  ‘Really?’ she asks, sounding shocked as she selects the shop’s playlist on the iPod and Nina Simone’s magically soulful sound is released into the room, listing all the things she ‘ain’t got’.

  ‘Well, it’s just not what I’m used to,’ I try to explain, because I wouldn’t say I disliked it at all.

  ‘Vastly different to here, then?’

&nb
sp; ‘Definitely!’ I laugh. ‘Everywhere is spread out, meaning getting anywhere on foot is pretty impractical for a start.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound too bad,’ she shrugs, leaning on the counter. ‘And nothing beats a bit of sunshine.’

  ‘You say that, but I found myself gagging to be back here, wrapped up in my coat and gloves,’ I confess, hearing how ridiculous that sounds.

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding me?’

  ‘No!’ I laugh. ‘It was winter. Winter should be cold and cosy with knitwear, not filled with skimpy bikinis and kaftans.’

  ‘Have you ever lived away?’ Rachel asks, standing next to me and helping to spoon cake mixture into little cupcake cases. Something she does without needing to be asked.

  ‘I moved with Billy to London once,’ I share, thinking back to last year and feeling surprised when I realize it wasn’t even that long ago. I already feel like an entirely different person now.

  ‘How’d that go?’

  ‘Parts of it I loved, parts of it I didn’t.’ I pause to remember. ‘It’s chaotic!’

  ‘I bet California is more laidback than that, though.’

  ‘Oh, definitely,’ I say, comparing the two in my head and realizing that each probably has its perks that I just hadn’t allowed myself to fully absorb while there. ‘I think I just like to be doing something. I’m not very good at going somewhere and not having anything to do.’

  ‘That right there sounds like my idea of heaven, Sophie,’ Rachel gasps, placing a hand on my arm to emphasize her point. ‘You should be making the most of those times before you have children. They’ll quickly get sucked away and turned into a distant memory. In fact, they become so distant they almost become a myth,’ she laughs, in a way that tells me she’s really not joking but can, thankfully, see the funny side of her manic life.

  ‘Yet here you are adding more to your crazy days …’

  ‘Stops me having to think about the empty void that’s been left now they’re not by my side every waking hour of the day,’ Rachel glumly admits, her lips pinching into a downward smile. ‘Funny that. I yearned for some time to myself for years, but having it now just feels barren. I had to get a job before I decided to have more children. Time alone can make you think the absurd.’