‘When’s the big day?’ A huge lump choked the words. Jade looked radiant with happiness. I’d seen that look many times and it made me feel further and further away from my own hopes and dreams.
‘Not for a while yet. Summer the year after next when I’ve finished college. We’re going to look at a few reception venues this weekend, though. Apparently they can get booked ages in advance.’
‘I’m so happy for you, Jade.’ I said. ‘I know a great florist you must use. She’ll do you a cracking deal.’
They laughed and Cathy hugged her daughter. ‘I’m so proud,’ she said. ‘I know some people will think they’re too young but they’re such sensible kids and, as I’ve already said, Aaron is lovely. Perfect son-in-law material.’
I smiled. ‘He sounds great. Look, I know you’ve just arrived and you haven’t even got your coats off, but Mum’s running late and I’ve been dying for the loo. You couldn’t hold the fort for a moment while I go, could you?’
‘Of course,’ Cathy said. ‘We don’t want any puddles on your nice new floor.’
Tucked away in the toilet cubicle, I put the lid down, sat on it, and rested my head against the cool wall while the tears flowed. I was genuinely delighted for Jade but devastated at another reminder that it was always someone else, never me, who was getting married. Someone else who wouldn’t be all alone like my Uncle Alan. My shoulders sank even further at the terrifying prospect of being alone. Maybe I should forget about Nick and give in to Andy? If he loved me as much as he said, maybe a proposal was just around the corner? But did I want to marry him? I sighed as I dabbed my eyes then blew my nose. If I said yes to trying again with Andy, would it be like Jason all over again, together because it seemed we should be rather than because he really was the only one for me?
‘What are we doing here?’ I asked. ‘It’s freezing.’ Andy had picked me up at half six as promised, checked I was wrapped up warm, then had driven me down to the sea front.
‘Patience,’ he said. ‘You’ll like it, though. I promise.’
He took my gloved hand as we crossed the road then guided me towards Lighthouse Point — a stretch of rocks with a wide path on the top that led to the old disused lighthouse. It was where that photo of my grandma was taken. And it was where Nick would be throwing roses into the sea at two minutes past eleven on New Year’s Day. Of all the places he could have brought me, why did it have to be there? I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply. Stop thinking about Nick. Focus on Andy.
‘There’s no lights on The Point,’ I moaned. I knew it wasn’t fair on Andy but I was starting to feel irritated by his presence and I really didn’t feel like yet another evening in his company; especially an evening that involved being dragged along a pitch-black pier in the middle of winter.
‘Just as well I brought a torch then, isn’t it?’ Andy flicked it on and a dull yellow beam lit our way. He released my hand and offered his arm. I hesitated for a moment.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, stopping. ‘You don’t seem yourself tonight.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘I don’t bite, you know.’ He offered his arm again.
I had to be fair to him. It wasn’t his fault about Nick… well, ultimately it was, but it wasn’t his fault how I was feeling so I needed to either be nice to him or be honest and tell him to leave. ‘Andy, there’s something I need to tell you…’
My phone beeped in my pocket. Happy to postpone the awkward conversation, I reached for it, muttering my excuses.
* From Elise
Just seen Nick and Blonde hugging. Sorry :(
‘Everything okay?’ asked Andy.
‘Sorry. Just a bit of bad news but I’ll get over it.’
‘Anything I can help with?’
‘No. I don’t think anything can be done about it.’
We walked in silence for a while. ‘You said there was something you wanted to tell me…’ Andy prompted.
‘Did I?’ What was the point? I’d blown it with Nick. I wasn’t sure if Andy was right for me but he was around for a few more days. Maybe that was enough time to fall in love with him again. ‘Sorry. I’ve forgotten what I was going to say. Couldn’t have been that important.’ I linked his arm.
‘We’re here,’ he announced when we reached the lighthouse. He swept his torch over a picnic blanket, some cushions, an ice bucket holding what looked like champagne, two glasses, and a box of expensive chocolates.
I gasped. ‘Andy! When did you do this?’
‘Just before I collected you although I was a bit worried it may have been nicked in my absence. Would the pretty lady like to take a seat?’
He took my hand again as I lowered myself onto one of the cushions. ‘I’ve got something else too.’ He rummaged under the blanket and produced a pan with a big red bow tied to it. He held it out to me. ‘For the one I killed.’
I laughed as I accepted it. ‘You didn’t have to but thanks.’
Andy looked a little lost as to what to do next. Feeling my impatience with him ebbing away, I patted the blanket next to me. He looked grateful as he plonked himself down. ‘Champagne?’ he asked.
‘Are we celebrating something?’
‘Every day I get to see you is a celebration.’
I looked at him, shocked, then we both burst into hysterics. ‘That was one of the worst lines I’ve ever heard,’ I said when the laughter finally subsided.
‘I promise you it sounded better in my head. I’m so sorry.’ Andy hung his head in shame. ‘Can you forgive me for being so cheesy?’
He reminded me of a naughty puppy desperately seeking approval. Poor Andy. He was trying so hard. I had to stop thinking about myself and think about him and how tough this must be for him to be giving everything and getting so little in return. I felt an overwhelming desire to kiss him again but decided to go for a hug instead.
When I pulled away, Andy poured the champagne and offered me a chocolate. Both were icy cold and absolutely divine.
With the champagne bubbles going straight to my head, I finally felt myself relax. As I emptied my third glass in the space of about twenty minutes, there was a momentary pause in our small-talk about what we’d done that day. I looked towards the seafront where the illuminations around the cinema, the theatre, and various amusement arcades twinkled invitingly. I shivered. ‘I’m sorry to keep asking, Andy, but why here? I wrapped up warm, as requested, but it’s still cold.’
I thought he tutted but surely not; that would be rude. He looked at his watch and said a little too brightly, ‘Any minute now. Look up towards the castle.’
I did as instructed and jumped a few moments later as a loud bang resonated and the air filled with red sparks followed by blue then green.
‘Andy! Did you organise this?’
‘Yes.’
‘For me?’
‘Of course.’
‘I love fireworks.’
‘I know.’
Despite the cold, a warm fuzzy feeling enveloped me. ‘You’re amazing,’ I said. And I realised I meant it. ‘First the balloon flight and now all this.’ I moved in for another hug but he unexpectedly caught me in a kiss instead. As the sky filled with explosions, I completely surrendered to the moment, kissing him back passionately.
But, as he drove me back to Smuggler’s View half an hour later, a feeling of uneasiness took a hold again. Did I only kiss him because I’d drunk half a bottle of champagne on an empty stomach? Therefore, was it genuine desire for Andy or yet another ill-advised alcohol-soaked decision spurred on by the arrival of Elise’s text and the excitement of the fireworks?
As I stared out of the window, I heard Clare’s voice in my head from our phone call after the balloon trip: ‘Will you not see my point? It’s like he’s been watching back-to-back chick flicks — probably worked his way through your DVD collection on Christmas Day — a
nd he’s contrived a day full of movie-perfect moments. I think the only thing he missed out was some fireworks, which is surprising because he must remember how much you love them.’ Oh my God! Was she right? Was it all contrived? And was that a bad thing?
Chapter 33
* From Andy
Last night on the pier was amazing. I don’t want to be pushy but I’ve extended my booking at The Ramparts until Monday. I know it’s Saturday and you’re busy at work but can we talk tonight? Please xx
I twiddled with a piece of foliage. He was right. He’d been very patient so far.
* To Andy
I’ve got some stuff to do but, you’re right, we do need to talk. Can we say 8pm at Smuggler’s View? But can I be really rude and ask that you eat at the hotel?
* From Andy
Will do. See you at 8 xx
I slipped my mobile back into my jeans pocket and returned to the bouquet I’d been making. It was a struggle to concentrate. My mind kept wandering to the evening ahead and every time I tried to visualise us sitting on the sofa having a serious discussion about what the future may hold for us, my thoughts drifted to an image of me lying on the sofa kissing Nick. A flush crept up my body.
* From Elise
Really hate to say this but I saw Nick & Blonde together again earlier. Are you free tonight for a catch up?
* To Elise
Serves me right :( Would have loved to meet up but Andy’s coming round for a serious talk. Bit nervous. He’s been amazing this week despite me being hot and cold on him
* From Elise
Don’t rush into anything because of Blonde. We’re guessing they’re an item but we don’t know for sure. Can I suggest you take Nick out of the equation & ask yourself if Andy really is the one for you. Can you really imagine growing old with him? xx
‘Thanks for your help, Mum.’ We’d had a run on newborn and christening gifts so Mum had offered to stay back after closing to help me re-stock the shelves. Two hands would make speedy work of it and save me from coming in early on Monday. ‘Can I ask you a question?’
‘Of course.’
I unwrapped a silver piggy bank and placed it gently on one of the glass shelves. ‘It’s about you and Dad.’
Mum nodded. ‘And?’
I carefully folded the tissue to go back in the box. ‘When I split up with Andy, you told me that you and Dad split up for a while when you were younger…’
Mum picked up another box and unwrapped the contents before answering. ‘I was about to do my nursing training and your dad had a joinery apprenticeship lined up so we’d be living two hours apart. Neither of us could afford cars and there weren’t the transport or communication links we have these days. There was parental pressure on both sides. It was all, “You’re too young, it’s too far, you’ll meet other people” and we started believing what they said. So we split up.’
‘Did you regret it?’
‘Of course. We both tried to be mature about it, but being apart from your Dad was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. We both knew we’d found The One and it didn’t matter to us that we’d met when we were fifteen.’
‘How long were you apart?’
‘About three months. I finished my studies for Christmas, bumped into your Dad that evening, and we knew we had to be together.’ She picked up another box to unpack. ‘I take it this is about Andy?’
I nodded. ‘How did you know that Dad was The One?’
Mum put the box down on the shelf and turned to fully face me. ‘Because I couldn’t imagine my life without him. Being apart was unbearable and, when I thought of a future without him, I wanted to curl up and die. I knew we were going to have a few tough years living so far apart but then I knew we’d have a lifetime together. When I thought of the future, all I could picture was your dad and I growing old together.’
‘Thanks, Mum.’ I picked up another box and opened the lid then stopped. ‘The problem I have is that I can imagine growing old with Nick although I think I’ve blown my chances. But I don’t know if I can imagine it with Andy any more.’
‘Then you have a tough decision to make. Come here.’ She put her arms round me and held me tightly. ‘Like I said on Christmas Day, don’t be rushed into making a decision just because he’s heading back to London. If he really loves you… and, let’s face it, he’d be mad not to, he’ll wait.’
I smiled and squeezed her tightly. ‘What if I want to get some closure and make the decision tonight?’
‘I say do it. But I suggest you think back to the last major life-changing decision you had to make. How did you decide between London and here?’
I stared at the columns of post-it notes stuck to the wardrobe in the spare room at Smuggler’s View. A large sky blue rectangular post-it note posed my dilemma: SHOULD I TRY AGAIN WITH ANDY? Beneath it was a column of ‘for’ arguments on mint green square notes and ‘against’ on pale pink; the closest colours I could find to replicate stop and go lights.
FOR
Used to be perfect
Loved him for years
Always thought meant to be
We’ve had fun
He’s gorgeous
He’s rich
He wants to marry me — I think
He’s called Steven
AGAINST
He broke my heart
Is it love… or nostalgia?
Clare’s comments: why now?
Will the fun last?
Looks & £ — so what?
Mum: grow old together?
Do I want to marry him?
He lives in London
Stepping back and scanning down the columns, I sighed. Pretty much every ‘for’ had a corresponding entry in the ‘against’ column including something neither of us had mentioned until now; location. I had a six-days-a-week job in North Yorkshire. He had a demanding career in London with regular trips abroad. How on earth would that work?
I clicked the pen again and scribbled on another pink post-it and stuck it at the bottom of the ‘against’ column.
He’s not Nick
I couldn’t take my eyes off the two last entries in each column. He’s called Steven but he’s not Nick. I sat down on the edge of the spare bed. He’s not Nick.
My mobile phone beeped.
* From Auntie Kay
Skyped your mum earlier. I made her tell me about Nick and Andy. You must be so confused. She says you’re meeting Andy to talk tonight. I’ve sent you an email and urge you to read it before you make any decisions. Please promise me. Never forget you’re my favourite niece and I only want what’s right for you xxxxx
I frowned at the text, a feeling of anxiety sweeping over me as I quickly typed in a response.
* To Auntie Kay
Sounds ominous but I promise. Off downstairs to read it now xxxxx
I closed the bedroom door and headed downstairs to log onto my emails.
Hi Sarah,
Much as I’m loving my travels, I wish I was at home right now to say this in person rather than by email. Your mum told me about you splitting up with Nick because of Andy re-appearing. She probably wasn’t meant to but you know I have ways of making my baby sister talk!
I’m sure you know whom I’d rather see you with but this is your choice, not mine. Ultimately, I want my favourite niece to be happy and I can imagine you’re having a pretty tough time working out whether Andy or Nick is The One who can make you happy long-term. I also have a great memory and recall Andy’s middle name. I can imagine the Steven connection isn’t helping matters.
I’m going to tell you something that I probably should have told you years ago. I know it’s something you’re curious about…
When I was 16, I had a boyfriend called Tim. Everyone thought we’d get married, including me. Tim jo
ined the army and was posted overseas after 18 months together. We were young and the distance was too hard so we called it a day. I was devastated. I’d thought Tim was The One.
But then I met Charlie Blake.
I fell in love with Charlie the moment I saw him. I was 19 but remember it as though it was yesterday. I was sitting on the swings on the village green when he skidded to a halt on his motorbike in front of Davie Hill’s house, removed his helmet, shook out his dark wavy hair, and gave me the biggest, cheekiest smile I’ve ever seen. He was Davie’s cousin. Charlie’s dad had died unexpectedly and left them penniless and homeless so they were moving in with Davie’s family while they got back on their feet.
There was a barn dance at one of the local farms that evening. Word had got around about Charlie’s arrival in the village. All the girls were dying to catch his eye and all the boys wanted to suss out the competition. It went deadly quiet as he entered the barn with Davie that evening.
A couple of the more brazen girls rushed up to them, but Charlie wasn’t paying attention. He was looking round the room for me! He asked me to dance and never let me go all evening.
At the end of the night, Charlie kissed me and we both knew we were made for each other. I realised at that point that I’d cared very deeply for Tim but it hadn’t been love.
My parents were worried about Charlie and me. They instantly saw a young lad in black leathers with a motorbike and figured he’d be trouble. He was so different to Tim and they thought I was going through some sort of rebellious phase. Rebellious? Me?
Charlie asked if he could have a moment of their time. Within ten minutes, they were eating out of his hand. It wasn’t an act to impress my parents. Charlie was the most genuine person you could ever meet — caring, considerate, warm, funny, intelligent, inspiring… I could go on and on about all his amazing qualities.
On my 21st birthday, 15 months after we met, he arranged to take me somewhere special for a meal. A colleague at the garage where he worked, Ken, loaned him his car providing Charlie took him home first and picked him up in the morning. Ken lived further up the coast.
Searching for Steven (Whitsborough Bay Trilogy Book 1) Page 27