The Last Piece of My Heart

by Paige Toon

  ‘I should leave in a bit,’ he replies.

  But we don’t leave. We stay there talking for another half an hour until my bladder can no longer stand the pressure. Charlie gets up first and holds his hand down to me.

  ‘I’m okay,’ I reply, pushing up onto my feet unassisted and feeling a small, strange stab of regret when his hand returns to his side.

  We stagger down the hill and peel away from each other at the bottom.

  When I get back from the loo, I find Charlie standing at the foot of my bed inside Hermie. He’s staring at April.

  ‘I can’t bear to move her,’ he whispers.

  ‘Don’t, then,’ I whisper back gently. ‘She can stay with me tonight.’

  ‘No. . .’ He frowns, shaking his head.

  ‘Would you miss her?’

  ‘It’s not that. I just. . . I couldn’t.’

  ‘Don’t you trust me?’

  ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘She’d be all right with me, wouldn’t she? You could come back early if you wanted to. Or have a lie-in, if you like. I’ll bring her to you in the morning.’ We’re both still whispering.

  He thinks about it, but then he shakes his head again, his mind apparently made up.

  ‘Stay in the tent, then,’ I suggest quickly. ‘Or’ – I come up with another idea – ‘you sleep with her and I’ll stay in the tent!’

  He looks at me and grins. ‘I’ll stay in the tent,’ he decides. ‘If you’re sure.’

  ‘I’m sure. Yay!’ I exclaim in a whisper. ‘Sleepover!’ I’m a bit tipsy.

  He chuckles and wraps his arm around my shoulders like he did earlier on the beach, giving me a quick squeeze.

  ‘You call that a hug?’ I surprise myself by saying.

  He grins at me sideways. ‘You after the full seven seconds?’

  ‘Yes.’ I jolt. ‘I mean, no. No. That wouldn’t be appropriate. Not now you’re staying over.’

  He raises one eyebrow. ‘You think it’s a bad idea for me to take you into my big strong arms?’

  I giggle quietly. ‘I’m not going to start fancying you, if that’s what you mean. It’s not that you’re not fanciable, because you definitely are. But I don’t fancy you.’

  ‘Good, I feel the same way about you.’

  ‘What?’ I pretend to be put out. ‘Why don’t you fancy me? I’ve got a boyfriend – what’s your excuse?’

  ‘Er, you’re my late wife’s ghostwriter? That would be too creepy.’

  I laugh. ‘You’re right. It’s good that you don’t fancy me.’

  ‘I definitely don’t.’

  ‘All right, stop going on about it! I’ll get a complex.’

  We look at each other and then both crack up, completely silently, clutching our sides. Tears cloud my vision as we stumble out of the campervan. Somehow he manages to close the door behind us before we let rip.

  ‘How do you do it?’ he asks eventually, wiping his eyes. ‘It’s been so long since I’ve laughed like this.’

  ‘You laughed like this last Friday, didn’t you?’ I remind him, the memory still fresh and brilliant inside my mind.

  ‘Exactly, that was you again, doing Eminem.’

  We’ve both ended up on the grass, leaning against Hermie, our legs stretched out in front of us.

  ‘How am I going to cope when you leave?’

  His question – and I think it was rhetorical – sobers us both up.

  ‘Let me get you a blanket,’ I say. ‘Just shove my clothes off to one side, or sleep on them, I don’t care. I’ll sort them out tomorrow.’

  As I start to get up, he reaches for me and stops me in my tracks. I bump back onto the ground.

  ‘What?’ I prompt when he doesn’t speak. His fingers are like a red-hot handcuff around my wrist.

  ‘We will stay in touch, won’t we?’ he asks.

  ‘Definitely,’ I reply firmly. ‘We’re friends, right?’

  ‘Yes. Friends.’

  I think he’s had more to drink than I have.

  ‘Are you hankering for a hug?’ I ask after a moment of us still looking at each other. I’m beginning to feel dizzy.

  He grins. ‘Do you want one?’

  I consider this, with his fingers still circling my wrist.

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Come on, then.’ He gets to his feet and pulls me to mine, and there’s absolutely no hesitation before his arms are around me. He’s so warm and solid. So broad and. . . hmm, yes, big and strong. Wow. I am liking this immensely.

  ‘Two,’ he says. ‘Three, four. . .’

  I start to giggle.

  ‘Five, six. . .’

  ‘You’re ruining it by counting,’ I complain over his shoulder.

  ‘Sorry,’ he whispers against my hair. A few seconds later, he releases me. ‘I reckon that was at least eleven seconds,’ he says. ‘But, if you need another one, all you have to do is ask.’

  ‘The same goes for you, Mr Laurence.’

  Chapter 25

  I barely slept last night. April stirred when I got into bed, so I gently placed my hand on her chest for a while, stilling her until her breathing became steady again. But I couldn’t relax after that. I was so worried about rolling over and crushing her. As the night wore on, she started to turn in the bed so that her legs were pressing straight into my side, her chubby little feet pummelling me. I tried to curl around her, but there wasn’t a whole lot of room. It brought to mind memories of my childhood cat, Murphy, who would make me feel so honoured when he chose my bed to sleep on rather than Dad’s that I’d do anything to keep him there. Even if it meant folding up into a kinked jellybean shape just so Murphy could have the comfort he so desired.

  April is stirring. I lie on my side, facing her, watching as her eyelids flicker open and then close back up again. I wonder what time it is – it feels early.

  At least I don’t have a hangover – I stopped at three ciders last night, and they were pretty low-alcohol. I wonder how Charlie is faring.

  I peek out through the curtains at the tent, but it’s still zipped up.

  I’ve been wondering if Elliot would have minded me hugging Charlie last night. He and I have always been tactile with our friends – he’d pull Bronte into his arms without a second’s thought, and it was the same with her boyfriend and me. We were like that as a foursome: full of open affection for each other.

  I feel a pang of longing for my friends on the other side of the world. I decide I’ll mention it to Elliot the next time we speak, just to be on the safe side. In fact, I’ll call him this morning. It’s crazy that we haven’t spoken in almost a week. That’s the longest we’ve gone since we became a couple.

  April’s eyes have opened up again and she’s staring at Hermie’s ceiling, blinking slowly. I hold my breath, watching her.

  The sound of a zip startles me back to the window. I glance out again through the darkened glass to see Charlie climb out of the tent, but, before I can knock, he heads off in the direction of the toilet block.

  April murmurs.

  ‘Good morning,’ I say sweetly as she turns her head to look at me.

  She murmurs something else, not seeming at all bothered to discover she’s in bed with me, rather than in her cot.

  ‘Do you want a cuddle?’ I ask.

  ‘Da,’ she replies.

  ‘Daddy’s just gone to the toilet. He’ll be back soon,’ I say, not sure if she even understands me.

  She seems worried.

  ‘Come here.’ I try not to panic as I slide my hand behind her shoulders and pull her little body towards me. She drapes her arm across my chest and settles there, her head tucked under my arm.

  ‘You’re such a clever girl, April,’ I say to her. ‘You took three steps yesterday! Such a clever girl.’

  She stays quiet, listening to me.

  ‘Ooh, you’re so warm and cuddly. Do you want me to sing you a song?’

  Her head moves. I think she’s nodding.

  I snuggle her c
loser and sing ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’, the Israel Kamakawiwo‘ole version.

  After a while, there’s a quiet knock on the campervan door.

  ‘We’re awake!’ I call.

  The door opens with a clunk and Charlie peers into the van.

  ‘Everything okay?’ he asks, smiling at us both. There’s no apparent awkwardness in his demeanour so I relax in turn. I was worried our embrace might’ve weirded him out.

  ‘Great. Come in.’

  He climbs into the van with two takeaway coffee cups and a paper bag.

  ‘Oh, was the coffee van there?’ I ask excitedly, sitting up as he places the cups on the counter and closes the door again.

  ‘Yeah.’ He sits down on the end of the bed. April whinges, so I hold the covers back from her so she can crawl down to him.

  ‘Hello, baby,’ he says sweetly, cradling her small frame against him.

  ‘How did you sleep?’ I ask.

  ‘Bizarrely well, actually. I completely conked out. You?’

  I shake my head and smile. ‘I was too worried about rolling onto her.’

  He looks mortified. ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

  ‘No, I didn’t mind!’ I quickly protest. ‘I liked it. I think her hugs are even better than yours,’ I joke.

  He laughs. ‘They’re pretty special,’ he agrees fondly, looking down at the top of her curly blonde head.

  ‘She’s like a teddy bear.’

  ‘Do we need to buy you a teddy bear?’ he asks slowly.

  ‘No, you’re all right,’ I reply.

  ‘You ready for this?’ He picks up one of the paper cups.

  ‘Yes, please.’ I hold my hands out as he passes it over. ‘What is it?’

  ‘A latte. Hope that’s okay.’

  ‘Perfect. What a treat.’

  He throws me the paper bag. ‘Pain au chocolat,’ he says.

  ‘Oh, my God, I think I love you. Can you stay over every night?’

  He laughs again and kisses the top of April’s head. ‘So I was thinking. . .’ He takes a sip of his own coffee.

  I wait for him to continue.

  ‘How about we do Heligan today? It’ll be really busy tomorrow, with it being a Saturday.’

  ‘I should write up my notes from yesterday,’ I reply, uncertainly.

  ‘Could you do them tomorrow instead? You could still work from mine if you wanted to.’

  ‘Would you want me at your house on the weekend?’ I sound dubious. ‘Don’t you need your own space?’

  He frowns. ‘No. You know I like having you around. You make us laugh.’ He pulls a funny face at April and a flame flickers on inside me.

  ‘Okay,’ I say with a grin. ‘Let’s do it.’

  ‘Cool. I’ll nip home for a shower in a bit and get April’s things together. Shall I come back for you around nine?’

  ‘It’s a plan.’

  After they’ve gone, I get ready as quickly as possible so I have time to call Elliot. I don’t want to waste even five minutes doing my hair, so I leave it to dry naturally, grabbing my phone and traipsing up the hill at eight thirty. That gives me half an hour to chat to him before Charlie returns.

  ‘I’ve just left work,’ Elliot tells me, smiling upon answering. He’s walking through the city streets and I can just make out his charcoal suit and silver-and-blue checked tie at the bottom of the frame. He always looks smart when he goes to work. He’s a civil engineer at a big consultancy firm and he’s quite senior. ‘Let me find somewhere to stop and talk to you.’ He looks around for a suitable place.

  We try to have our longer conversations on weekends so we don’t have this problem, but sometimes, with the time difference, we have to make do.

  He comes across a deserted doorway. ‘I’ll perch here for a bit.’

  ‘Hey,’ I say warmly, when I have his full attention. ‘Long time no speak.’

  ‘Yeah, you’ve been a bit busy this week, have you?’ He raises one dark eyebrow.

  ‘A bit, yeah,’ I reply. ‘What about you?’

  ‘Still pretty crazy.’ He sighs and scratches his chin – he has more of a beard than stubble at the moment. ‘Think I’m going to have to go in tomorrow. I’d had it up to my eyeballs with it tonight, though. Had to call it quits.’

  ‘Are you going out?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah, meeting a few of the boys at a bar in the harbour.’

  ‘Nice. Have one for me.’

  ‘I’ll have several. Heard today that we’re on for finishing this job in early November. There’s actually talk about some of us getting a week off before the next project starts.’

  ‘Why don’t you come and meet me in Thailand?’ I sit up straighter.

  ‘Have you booked your ticket?’

  ‘Not yet, but I’m going to get Marty onto it.’

  As a travel agent, Marty has been sorting out my flights for me for years. It might be a dying profession, but she has a lot of loyal clients.

  ‘What dates are you looking at?’ Elliot asks.

  ‘I can be flexible around you.’

  He shakes his head. ‘I won’t know until much nearer the time if I can get away.’

  ‘That’s okay. I can book mine and, if you can join me, we can get you a last-minute deal.’

  ‘That might work.’ He smiles and I’m overcome with the most intense desire to climb onto his lap and hug the hell out of him.

  ‘I miss you,’ I say.

  ‘I miss you too,’ he replies, his blue eyes softening. ‘How’s it all going with the book?’

  I tell him where I’m at.

  ‘That was nice of him,’ he says about Charlie taking me to Lansallos yesterday.

  ‘He’s a nice guy,’ I reply. ‘You’d like him.’ I suddenly feel nervous, but I force myself to continue. ‘It was funny last night. . . We were talking about how we both missed hugging – he misses his wife and I miss you. We ended up giving each other one.’

  ‘Oi, oi!’ he exclaims, playfully.

  ‘A hug, I mean.’

  He smiles. ‘I should hope that’s all it was.’

  I blush and he shakes his head good-naturedly at me.

  ‘You know I don’t mind you being touchy-feely, if that’s what you’re worried about.’ He knows me so well. ‘As long as there’s nothing more to it,’ he adds. ‘I doubt he’ll be looking for a replacement any time soon.’

  I wince. ‘God, no. It hasn’t even been a year since Nicki died. Anyway, can you imagine how creepy it would be if he took a liking to her ghostwriter?’

  ‘Very creepy,’ he agrees with a shudder.

  It’s the same word Charlie used last night.

  ‘How are you getting on with his rugrat?’ Elliot asks, pursing his lips.

  I shrug. ‘She’s actually very sweet.’

  ‘You better not be getting all broody on me, Bridgie. . .’ He says it like a warning, but he’s only teasing.

  I laugh. ‘No chance of that.’

  ‘Phew.’

  This is one of the reasons Elliot and I are such a good fit. He wants children as much as I do.

  Which is not at all.

  I know it’s a taboo subject, which is why I hate people asking me about it. It’s one of the most divisive topics of conversation out there. Most parents don’t understand – they think people who choose not to have kids are just selfish, but this makes me quite angry. It’s nobody’s business but mine. I never take it for granted that Elliot and I are on the same page. So many couples break up over the decision about whether or not to have kids. I know, because I’ve been there, and it hasn’t always been a clean-cut ‘for’ or ‘against’.

  It began with Freddie, continued through my time with Vince and came back to bite me squarely on the butt with Liam.

  But Liam was the one that hurt the most. I still find it hard to think about him without my stomach twisting into a knot.

  I’m so grateful Elliot and I have our ‘no kids’ policy in common. He’s a keeper, that’s for sure.

 
; ‘I read your Dillon account,’ he tells me.

  ‘What did you think?’

  ‘It was great. Loved the slowest-horse-in-the-world bit coupled with the chattiest cart driver.’

  This comment puts me on edge. It’s a slightly unusual anecdote for him to pull out for special attention. ‘Did you think the Dillon bit was okay?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He nods. ‘It was really well written. It’ll make a good chapter.’

  I frown at him. ‘Are you all right?’ He seems a bit reserved with his compliments.

  ‘I’m fine,’ he insists.

  ‘You are still happy about me doing this blog, aren’t you?’ Worry has begun to eat me up.

  ‘Of course I am,’ he insists. ‘I don’t dig the idea of him trying to shag you, and obviously I’d rather he wasn’t still in love with you—’

  ‘He’s not still in love with me,’ I scoff.

  ‘Sounded like it. But it’s cool, I’m not worried.’

  ‘Good, because you shouldn’t be.’

  He grins at me, and I feel an intense stab of frustration because we can’t make eye contact.

  ‘Can you look straight into the camera lens for a moment?’ I ask him, desperate for his eyes to meet mine.

  He does as I ask, but it doesn’t quite work, because he’s staring at a black dot, not a person, and there’s as much emotion in his expression as you’d expect.

  ‘Thanks,’ I murmur. He goes back to looking at my face on the screen.

  Charlie is already waiting when I come back down the hill.

  ‘Am I late?’ I ask.

  ‘No, I’m early,’ he replies, nodding at my phone. ‘Elliot?’

  ‘Yeah, finally got a chance to catch up.’

  ‘Everything good?’

  ‘Great.’ I smile. ‘He was just on his way to Circular Quay to meet up with some mates.’

  ‘What’s Circular Quay?’ he asks.

  ‘It’s the harbour where all the ferries dock,’ I explain. ‘Right by the Sydney Opera House and the Sydney Harbour Bridge. There are loads of bars there. It’s where we first bumped into each other again, actually.’

  He wants to know about it, so I fill him in on the drive to Heligan.

  ‘How did you and Nicki meet up again?’ I ask after a while.

  ‘I saw her in Padstow,’ he says. ‘She was in an art gallery, looking around, and I walked past the window. I stopped as soon as I saw her: it was the first time in years. I was so cold with her after we broke up – something I regretted – so it was my chance to make amends. She seemed happy to see me, so I asked her out for a coffee.’