Always With Love

by Giovanna Fletcher

  ‘You!’ I smile, pointing my finger at her accusingly as laughter spills from me, causing my body to shake.

  ‘What? What have I done?’ she asks innocently, her hand on her chest in protest, unable to hide the knowing look on her face.

  ‘Billy sent me a letter telling me he’s spoken to you guys about looking after this place and that he’s booked me a flight to America.’

  ‘Finally!’ she dramatically sighs. ‘I’ve been so scared I was going to trip up and ruin the surprise. You wouldn’t believe how many times something’s been on the tip of my tongue and I’ve had to run off and stick my head in the fridge.’

  ‘Well, I know nothing! I’ve tried calling Billy but he went to sleep an hour or so ago.’

  ‘How useless!’

  ‘So you have to tell me!’

  ‘Really?’ Rachel asks, her big blue eyes looking panicked. ‘I’m not sure I’m allowed to divulge any information. I was sworn to secrecy.’

  ‘But I know now.’

  ‘True …’ Rachel says with a pained expression on her face.

  ‘Can’t you just tell me when I’m going? That’s not a big deal,’ I shrug innocently.

  A frown appears on her forehead as she looks at me and continues to size up the situation. ‘I think you should call your mum or Colin. They’ll know what they can tell you and that way I won’t get into trouble.’

  ‘Seriously?’ I laugh.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  I chuckle as I pick up my phone once more and call Mum.

  ‘Sophie! I’m just walking to work. Have you forgotten something?’ she asks, slightly out of breath.

  ‘No, I’m just calling because a certain little letter has arrived from a certain someone telling me about a certain trip he’s booked me.’

  ‘Ah!’ she giggles.

  ‘But Billy’s asleep!’ I say with exasperation.

  ‘Oh …’

  ‘Please give me a little more info. Rachel’s proving to me that she’s totally trustworthy by withholding any further information,’ I say, causing Rachel to laugh as she organizes the chairs and tables in the shop, which were stacked up on Saturday night so that we could give the main floor a proper mop.

  ‘Well that is a tough one …’

  ‘Not you too!’ I shriek, knowing another person is going to keep me guessing.

  The shop phone rings, causing Rachel to stop what she’s doing and dash to answer it.

  ‘It’s for you,’ she says with an innocent shrug while her mouth splits into a beaming smile.

  ‘Billy,’ I whisper, realizing it’s been days since I actually heard his voice thanks to his busy schedule and the time difference. ‘Mum, I’ve got to go. Billy’s called back,’ I say, putting down the phone and leaping to the landline.

  ‘What have you done?’ I grin, feeling light and giddy, my breath rising to my chest.

  ‘Ah, there’s my smiling girl,’ he chuckles sleepily, causing my heart to swell. ‘I can’t wait to see you this weekend.’

  ‘This weekend?’ I repeat with excitement, my voice high pitched and shrill. ‘I’m seeing you this weekend?’

  ‘If that’s good with you?’

  ‘It’s perfect,’ I sigh, laughing as tears spring from my eyes.

  ‘You pleased?’

  ‘Pleased doesn’t quite cover it.’

  ‘Good.’

  In that moment I love him more than ever, and it’s not because he’s paid for me to fly out there, but because he’s dealt with the whole thing. More than anything it shows that he must really be missing me as much as I’m missing him and that makes me so absurdly happy. Because as much as I hate to admit it, the distance between us has made me worry that I’ll be forgotten, that Julie could be whispering in his ear again about the difficulties within our relationship. Or what if he’d realized he doesn’t love me quite as much when I’m out of sight? Actually, it’s not even like I’ve only been out of sight, we’re in two different worlds living totally separate lives. So it’s comforting to know I’ve not evaporated from his memory and that he’s sticking to his word.

  That afternoon my head, arms and the rest of my upper body are practically inside the glass counter display cabinet, giving it a good spring clean, when I hear the door open and heavy footsteps walk inside.

  ‘Just a sec,’ I sing loudly at the shadow looming in my peripheral vision, still feeling giddy from the morning’s excitement and knowing I’ll be reunited with Billy in just a matter of days.

  ‘No rush,’ says a deep, male voice, a sound I wasn’t expecting.

  I jump so high I bash my head on the glass above me and let out a strangled ‘Ouch.’

  ‘You OK?’ asks the voice, sounding amused and just a touch concerned.

  ‘Sorry,’ I say, straightening up slowly whilst rubbing my head and turning towards the bronzed man who has entered. ‘Peter!’ I exclaim, taking in the face I barely know, yet feel has been present for a large chunk of my life. I can’t believe I didn’t notice how much he resembled his mum Molly the last time we met. Although that was such a sad time, having just said goodbye to my dear friend, I don’t think I was up to absorbing much. But now I see Molly in the fine wrinkles around his twinkling blue eyes, in the sharpness of his nose and in the way his mouth opens to give such a welcoming smile. The similarity is pretty breathtaking.

  ‘I thought I’d find you here,’ he grins, ruffling a manly hand through his sun-kissed hair as he stands in the middle of his mum’s old shop, looking dapper in his dark grey suit.

  ‘Where else?’ I say, reciprocating the grin. ‘What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in Australia?’

  ‘Long story.’

  ‘Want a cuppa while you tell it?’ I ask, already grabbing a pot and two mugs. It’s ten minutes before closing, so I know I’m fine to stop and chat. And although I know talking to near-strangers isn’t like me, I feel as though a long-lost friend has just walked back into my life, making my heart feel light and giddy in his company.

  ‘Oh, go on, then,’ he says warmly with a touch of an Aussie accent as he pulls out a chair and sits on it. ‘Love what you’ve done with the place … books!’ he says, looking over at the cabinet that hosts a variety of my favourite reads for customers to pick up and enjoy. I wasn’t sure they would at first, but it’s proved very popular. Even with the teenagers.

  ‘Jut a few bits here and there. Nothing dramatic,’ I say, hoping he’s not offended by anything I’ve changed.

  ‘And the name?’

  ‘Ah!’ I smile. ‘I wanted to acknowledge the fact that your mum’s still a huge part of the shop even though she’s not physically here,’ I say, explaining my decision to change it from Tea-on-the-Hill to Molly’s-on-the-Hill. ‘Of course, it confuses people every now and then. A few times I’ve been called Molly and I’ve just had to roll with it. It stopped me in my tracks to begin with, though,’ I admit.

  ‘She’d have found that funny.’

  ‘Seriously, I had to look behind me to make sure she wasn’t stood there,’ I giggle, making my way over to him with the tea and a selection of cakes.

  Peter catches sight of the treats in my hands and laughs to himself.

  ‘What?’ I ask.

  ‘Mum trained you well. A conversation’s not worth having unless there’s tea and cake.’

  ‘She had a good point,’ I reply, feeling my cheeks blush. ‘So. Spill. What’s brought you back?’

  ‘Work. It’s actually that simple,’ he shrugs, while opening both his palms to the ceiling.

  ‘You said it was a long story,’ I frown suspiciously.

  ‘I managed to condense it,’ he laughs.

  ‘So I see.’

  ‘Basically, the company I work for has set up an office here and they wanted me to make sure everything was going smoothly. Apparently a British accent wouldn’t make them feel like I’m someone from the Aussie team sent here to spy on them.’

  ‘But you are?’

  ‘Partly,’ he says
, pursing his lips together to stop himself smirking.

  ‘And I hate to break it to you, but you’ve definitely got a twang of Aussie in there.’

  ‘It’s unbelievably catchy,’ he laughs, shaking his head before exhaling a lungful of air. ‘Ironic, isn’t it? That I get sent here now Mum’s gone.’

  ‘Cruel, maybe,’ I nod, knowing how much Molly would have loved a surprise visit from the son she talked about constantly.

  ‘Don’t make me feel too guilty,’ he winks, before picking up a slice of cake and taking a large bite of it. It’s a far cry from the delicate way my cakes are usually eaten. It’s manly, rough and unexpected. I find it difficult to tear my eyes away.

  ‘So, how long are you here for?’

  ‘At the moment it’s hard to say. Could be a month, could be a year. Or it could be their callous way of outing me over here without me kicking up a fuss. Let me get settled long enough that I won’t grumble about not being back there in the sunshine with my surfboard,’ he shrugs, taking another huge mouthful of cake.

  ‘What about your life there?’ I ask, surprised they’ve uprooted him and sent him to the other side of the world without a proper plan.

  ‘Split up from my girlfriend over Christmas.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Nah, don’t be – all she did was give me aggravation,’ he says dismissively. ‘I have a little bar near Bondi Beach that I own with some of my cousins, too, actually. Although, I think they’ll be fine running it without me until I’m done.’

  ‘So nothing to rush back for?’

  ‘Just the sun and my board,’ he laughs, the thought of the things he loves brightening up his face and causing his eyes to twinkle in a way that feels familiar. ‘Missing it already and I’ve only been here a few days.’

  ‘A few days in and you’ve already managed to escape from the office and head out to Kent by five o’clock? They’ll be wondering what they’re paying you for,’ I joke, thankfully making him chuckle.

  ‘First week,’ he shrugs. ‘They’re being quite slack with the hours while we all get adjusted, so thought I’d make the most of that, get back here early and go see Mum’s grave, you know …’

  ‘Oh, right. Of course.’ There’s a heavy pause. ‘How was it?’

  ‘Like talking to a slab of concrete,’ he says dismissively with a sniff, which fills me with sadness.

  ‘I’m sorry you feel that way,’ I reply, thinking of the comfort I’ve received in the past from visiting Molly and Dad at the cemetery, and the hours I’ve spent just sitting there talking about everything and anything. Each time I told myself I could feel a presence, convinced one of them was there with me.

  ‘No, don’t get me wrong, that’s where her body is. I get that,’ Peter continues, nodding his head in agreement with his own train of thought. ‘But she’s not there. Her spirit isn’t there. She’s here, you know? In these walls,’ he gestures, looking around the shop.

  The notion makes me smile. I’ve no doubt Molly and my dad are always with me, helping me make important decisions, or just sitting there as spectators of my life. Yet the notion that Molly is also somehow embedded in the fabric of the room we’re in warms my heart.

  ‘That’s a wonderful thought,’ I say, continuing to ponder it as I put half a lemon drizzle slice on a plate and fork some into my mouth.

  ‘Well, that’s the way I see it, anyway. Even the house isn’t the same.’

  ‘Is that where you’re staying?’ I ask, thinking of Molly’s three-bed terrace house down the road where I know Peter spent his childhood.

  ‘Never got round to selling it,’ he shrugs. ‘Maybe this was the reason. Some higher being knew I’d be back here sooner rather than later. The commute’s not bad, mind.’

  ‘Is it nice being back in your home?’ I ask.

  ‘I guess …’ he frowns. ‘It’s so bare, though. So empty. I thought I’d feel something there, but I don’t.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say sadly, again wishing his answer had been a little different.

  ‘As with the grave, she’s not there.’

  ‘Right,’ I nod, pensively.

  ‘She’s here, though. I felt it as soon as I walked through the doors,’ he says, looking around the room. ‘If I want to be closer to her I’ll have to come in here.’

  ‘Well, you’re more than welcome here as much as you like,’ I tell him.

  ‘Thank you,’ he smiles in response, before exhaling loudly and fondly looking around the shop once more. ‘So how’s it been with this place?’

  ‘Great,’ I exclaim proudly. ‘Challenging, obviously. I’ve never run a business before, but I think I’m coping.’

  ‘It’s a place you know better than anyone else, so perhaps give yourself a bit of credit,’ he says, holding eye contact with me while briefly touching my arm. It’s a fleeting gesture, just a moment before he breaks away and reaches back for his cup. ‘Have you got someone in helping you?’

  ‘Well, Billy was here,’ I say, his comment having caused an unexpected sense of pride to swirl around in my chest.

  ‘Billy?’ he asks, looking confused.

  ‘My boyfriend.’

  ‘Of course. Sorry. The actor,’ he says, clicking his fingers as he remembers the information. No doubt Molly had told him all about our situation dozens of times on the phone.

  ‘Yes, that’s right. He was helping out but I’ve now got my first bona-fide member of staff,’ I say, raising my eyebrows smugly as I nibble on a bit more yellow sponge.

  ‘Wow, that’s really something.’

  ‘It is,’ I nod, enjoying his reaction. ‘I’ve introduced a proper afternoon tea package, too. It seems to be going down a treat. I’m enjoying experimenting to see what works, like me and Molly used to do with our recipes … I’m still missing a Saturday girl, but I’ll cope as long as my mum and her partner keep generously lending a hand during the busy hours.’

  ‘Well, I can always help out if you like?’

  ‘Really?’ I say, trying my best not to laugh, which turns into me choking on a piece of cake that I accidentally suck down my windpipe. ‘Sorry,’ I say, once I’ve recovered. ‘But you don’t need to do that.’

  ‘I can handle serving cake and tea one day a week,’ Peter frowns.

  ‘Thank you for the lovely offer, but we’re coping at the moment.’

  ‘Fair enough. The offer’s there if you find you’re stuck, though,’ he says, raising his hands as though sacrificing himself. ‘I’m only around the corner and I think it would actually be quite nice being here, doing what Mum used to do.’

  ‘Well, I’ll let you know, then,’ I say, remembering what he said earlier about Molly being a part of the place.

  ‘Great,’ he says, as though it’s a prospect he’s really looking forward to.

  ‘I’m away for a week from Saturday actually,’ I blurt, without thinking.

  ‘Need me to cover?’

  ‘Well, maybe … perhaps,’ I say, feeling cheeky as I say it. ‘I’ll give Rachel your number just in case. If that’s OK?’

  ‘More than OK,’ he says, his face kind and friendly. ‘Are you going anywhere nice?’

  ‘LA. To see Billy.’

  ‘Lucky …’ he says, before trailing off. ‘Well, thanks for the tea and cake,’ he adds, standing and putting a coat over his suit jacket.

  ‘It was nothing.’

  ‘I promise I’ll be back soon. Oh and here, take this.’

  He puts his hand in his wallet and takes out a business card.

  The tips of my fingers touch the inside of his warm palm as I take it from him, making my neck, cheeks and ears instantly and unexpectedly flame up.

  ‘For when you want me to be your new Saturday girl,’ he laughs, making to leave before turning to face me once more. ‘Obviously you know the telephone number at the house, but that’s got my mobile number on it. Just in case.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I smile, knowing that Molly’s old landline number is, as he thought, p
erfectly drilled into my memory.

  ‘Oh, and I’ll be sure to keep this weekend free.’

  ‘Great,’ I smile, standing up to see him out. ‘Take care.’

  ‘You too, Sophie,’ he calls, turning his back to me while waving his hand in the air and walking outside into the darkness of the late afternoon. ‘Don’t have too much fun in LA. See you when you get back.’

  ‘Bye,’ I sing.

  I follow him to the door and flip the open sign to closed. Without thinking I find myself watching Peter bob his way down the hill, stopping to say hello to other shop owners along the way, all of whom know him from when he was younger and look delighted to see him again. How wonderful to be part of a village community like ours where you can go away for months, or even years, and still feel so embraced by everyone when you come back. The thought makes me smile as I turn and get ready to go home.

  20

  Billy doesn’t have a chance to pen a letter back to me before I fly over there because by the time I get on the plane he still hasn’t received mine. Seriously, I know it’s romantic and wonderful to have something tangible from each other, but occasionally the time spent waiting for a piece of flimsy paper to travel halfway across the globe is incredibly infuriating. I’m starting to question how any of the beloved characters in my favourite novels managed to hold on to their sanity waiting for a love interest to get in touch. I’ve always thought I was an incredibly patient person, but it turns out I’m not. Not really.

  Then again, I know there are many more ways to stay in touch thanks to modern technology, but they also require you both to be available and not running a busy shop, filming intricate fight scenes on set or sleeping, thanks to your exhaustingly long days. So, believe it or not, those little letters have stopped me pulling my hair out at times.

  Still, I’m relieved that we’ll both be spending a whole week in the same time zone again – and in the same bed, too.

  When I giddily arrive in LAX (having rather enjoyed myself on the flight this time – I guess it’s something I’m getting more used to), Lauren is waiting for me, her hair scruffily tied back in a high bun and her lips redder than ever. However, this time she’s slightly more covered up. There’s not a bikini in sight, instead she’s in jeans, a red t-shirt, black hoodie and leopard-print slipper loafers.