by KE Payne
“She still looked eighteen?” Gabe gasped. “Ashley, my dear, I want whatever moisturizer this Nat girl uses.”
“You know what I mean.” Ash eased her shoes from her feet, shuffled back further onto her bed, and stared up at the light fitting in the middle of her ceiling.
Plans. There had been so many plans. The Untouchables would never be broken up. That was their vow. They’d all choose the same university, all achieve the goals they’d set themselves as they neared the end of their school years. Ash frowned, remembering the night she and Nat made their pledge to study medicine together, to become successful doctors together. Livvy would achieve her dream of becoming a lawyer. They’d even laughed about who would get the better final mark. Livvy was convinced she would. They’d find a house together too, Nat had said—Ash, Nat, and Livvy—and while Livvy would bore them with legal jargon, Ash and Nat would revolt her by bringing specimens from their lab home with them. It was going to be a blast. It was going to be perfect.
“You think you’ll see her again?” Gabe’s voice roused her.
“Doubt it.” Ash hesitated. “Probably just as well.”
“Because?”
“Because seeing her again lit this little spark inside me,” Ash said. “Just…here.” She pointed to her stomach.
“Honey, I can’t see you.”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“The little feeling inside that sometimes only an ex can set off?” Gabe offered.
“But not how you think.” Ash fell back onto her pillow. “More a combination of memories and sadness than anything else.”
“I know,” Gabe said. He paused. “So when are you coming home?”
“Wednesday,” Ash said. “I’m going over to Livvy’s mother’s house tomorrow.” She frowned. “She has something to give me from Livvy, apparently.”
“That’s sweet.”
“You’re certain you can manage without me another day?”
“Ash, I already told you,” Gabe said, “we’ll be fine here.”
“Sure?” Ash asked again. “And you can cope with Widgeon a bit longer?”
“Sure I’m sure,” Gabe affirmed. “And looking after your dog is a doddle, you know that.” He laughed. “Take all the time you need. You should make the most of London while you’re there.”
“There’s no sea here though.” Ash pulled a face. “I miss the sea.”
“You left Cornwall, what? Twenty-four hours ago?” Gabe laughed. “How can you miss the sea already?”
“It’s in my blood.”
“Says the girl born in Surrey.”
“Stop picking on me,” Ash whined down the phone, making Gabe laugh again. “I miss you, I miss Doris—”
“And why you had to name your boat is still a mystery to me.”
“I miss being outdoors.” Ash looked around her room, trying to ignore the creeping suffocation. Her mind skittered down to the sea, to her boat, to the fresh air and the sense of freedom that always accompanied such thoughts. “London’s so…grubby.”
And so full of reminders of Nat.
“You’ll be back before you know it,” Gabe soothed. “In the meantime, take all the time you need.”
“I will, thanks.” Ash paused. “But I can guarantee I’ll be on the first train home on Wednesday.” She looked to the window and to the chink of dusky light filtering through the curtains, and shuddered. “Way too many memories around this city for my liking.”
❖
Nat rested her head back against her pillow and allowed the tensions of the day to ease slowly away from her neck. Her recently downed double brandy sat warm, but acidic, in her empty stomach. She rolled her head across the pillow and spied her unopened sandwich, still on her dresser where she’d tossed it down earlier. Nat extended her arm, knowing it would be too far away to reach, then let it flop to her side, the brandy turning her limbs to wool.
She’d seen Ash again. The same Ash she’d thought about day after day for years, and it hadn’t been as weird as she’d often thought it might be. Nat closed her eyes. Ash had seen her too, Nat was sure of that, and even though she had so wanted to go to Ash, her feet had refused to comply. To talk to her, just to hear her voice again, would have been wonderful. So why hadn’t she been able to make herself walk across the room to her?
It had been too long since she’d seen Ash. Flashbacks appeared to Nat in the darkness: the first time they met, aged eleven; the first time, a few months later, she and Ash had spent time alone when Livvy had been off school for a week with a cold.
Nat swallowed.
How old had she been when she’d first fallen for Ash? Thirteen? Fourteen? Of course, back then, Nat had assumed her feelings for Ash were simply because Ash was the cool kid in school and Nat had valued their close friendship. But then, Livvy had been cool too, and she’d never made Nat feel the way Ash had. She’d never made her insides flip over just with a look, or a laugh, or a friendly arm around her shoulder. Livvy had never been constantly in Nat’s thoughts, had never made Nat feel ten feet tall. With Ash it had been different. Ash had felt it too, Nat had found out months later, although both had been too shy to admit it to the other.
Until netball.
Nat turned over and smiled into her pillow. Who’d have thought throwing balls into a hoop could have led to that?
Netball had been their thing. Nat’s and Ash’s. Livvy, being far too cool, had said she’d much rather spend her Wednesday afternoons watching the boys’ football team than standing under a hoop with her arms in the air. Her words. That had been fair enough; they were fifteen, after all. The age where girls preferred sizing up the boys than getting sweaty with a whole bunch of other girls. Well, some girls did. Others were different.
Even now, the memory of her first kiss with Ash made her insides dance. Alone in the changing room one afternoon after netball, having hardly been able to take their eyes off each other during the game, they finally gave in to their feelings and forgot their shyness. They’d held hands—something they did often—but that day Nat had felt a difference in the way Ash’s thumb had trailed over the back of her hand. Had felt a shift in the way Ash was looking at her.
“I’ve never kissed anyone before.”
Ash’s words to her were as clear today as they were then.
“Me neither,” Nat had replied, the anticipation nearly killing her.
“We could…you know? If you want?”
Before Nat had even had time to answer, Ash pulled her closer. Thinking they must be mad, because at any moment someone might come back in and find them, Nat hadn’t pushed her away and it had been as if she’d waited her whole fifteen years just for that moment. It had been perfect, even more so when Ash’s mouth had found hers straight away again after that first kiss. Kissing Ash had been everything Nat had always imagined it would be. Soft. Sweet. Quite unlike the disastrous fumbling Nat had endured with Gareth Bates from her French class in the bandstand at the park a year before, when she’d used him in a vain attempt to try and forget that Ash was rapidly creeping into her every thought. It hadn’t worked.
“Was it okay?”
Ash’s concern had been touching. Nat had nodded, unable to keep the grin from her face or the fizz of excitement from her stomach.
“It was perfect.”
After their netball kiss, Nat and Ash found they quite liked it. Kissing. Found they were pretty darned good at it too, so despite the guilt they both felt at hiding their fledgling relationship from Livvy, they carried on kissing. A lot.
A car horn blaring on the street outside stirred Nat from her memories. She rubbed at her eyes.
That first kiss was such a long time ago now.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and padded across to the dresser, then scooped up the sandwich, opened it, and sniffed it. Nausea caught in her throat. She’d been dreading the funeral, knowing she’d probably have to see Ash again. Her nervousness had risen and deflated on an almost hourly b
asis as the days had crept closer, escalating to a peak that day. Nat had eaten hardly a thing over the last forty-eight hours or so. Surely she’d be hungry now it was all over. Nat sniffed the sandwich again. Perhaps not.
Despite everything, she had had a pinprick of hope that Ash would have forgiven her by now, rather than ignoring her. Would have sought her out, apologized for her silence for all those years, and laughed everything off as just being a run-of-the-mill teenage relationship and breakup. Nat frowned at her sandwich, annoyed at her own thought process. Of course Ash wouldn’t have dismissed it so lightly. It had been so much more than that, and to call it a routine breakup was doing it an injustice. What she and Ash had shared had been the most wonderful romance, an all-consuming, roller coast of a ride. They were sixteen and in love, and Nat had flourished with Ash—almost as if she’d only been existing until their relationship. Love had made her grow as a person; thanks to Ash, Nat realized she actually quite liked herself. She came out of her shell, found a sense of humour she didn’t know existed, teased out by Ash. Became the person she always thought she might be, underneath the shyness. Comfortable in her own skin.
Nat tossed the sandwich back down.
Ash had been just what she’d needed. Girlfriend, best friend, confidant, soul mate. Ash would have done anything for her—and frequently had. Nat had been Ash’s world.
Then Nat had let Ash’s world fall apart.
Chapter Two
Livvy’s childhood home in Wimbledon looked exactly the same as Ash remembered it, bringing with it a fresh rash of memories. Even the avenue on which it sat—and which was now dappled in soft October shade from the large, still-leafy trees that lined it—didn’t seem to have changed much since the last time Ash had walked down it from the train station, probably over fifteen years or more before.
The outside of number twenty-two Bartrim Avenue had always struck Ash as being a treat for the eyes: a classic Edwardian, it was set back a little way from the pavement with the most immaculate front lawn and impeccable borders lined with an array of flowers. It was typical suburbia, and always pleasantly quiet; you would never guess, Ash now thought as she strode down the road, that the centre of London, with all its noise and glitz and grime, sat just a few miles north.
Ash’s gaze rested on the front door, the same front door she’d stood behind so many times in her teenage years, waiting for Livvy to answer, watching through the frosted glass to see her shadowy figure hurry down the hallway stairs inside. She had been lucky, Ash now thought, that she, Livvy, and Nat had all lived no more than a fifteen minute Tube ride from one another. Their childhood had been spent in and out of either one or the others’ houses, long summers spent playing in one another’s streets, Halloweens spent hanging around whoever’s district had something cool going on, cosy Christmas Eves in either Ash’s, Nat’s, or Livvy’s front rooms, depending on how they felt, or who had the best fire going. It had been idyllic.
Then the idyll had twisted into pain.
Ash frowned the thought away and rang the bell. She stepped back but couldn’t stop herself from watching through the frosted glass, waiting to see a shadowy figure approach the door, even though she knew it wouldn’t be Livvy this time. Old habits obviously died hard.
Livvy’s mother, when she answered the door, looked as though she’d been crying.
Ashley hesitated on the threshold, unsure of her next move, relieved when Judy made the first move.
“Ashley.” Judy approached her and pulled Ash into an embrace. “Thank you for coming over.”
Ash accepted the embrace, feeling every inch a child again. Still shy in Livvy’s mother’s company, still too shy to tell her she preferred to be called Ash. To Judy Fancourt, Ash was, and always would be, Ashley.
“I’ve made tea.” Judy pushed the door closed behind them and beckoned Ash to follow her. “And I’ve got cake. You still like cake, don’t you? Victoria sponge. That was always your favourite, wasn’t it? Do you still like it?” Judy’s grieving energy shimmered off the walls of the hall.
“I love it.” Ash followed Judy to the lounge. “Thank you.”
The lounge was as Ash remembered too. Sublimely decorated in neutral colours with classy furniture—expensive, but not so expensive as to be pretentious—and possibly the comfiest sofa Ash had ever sat on. Old money, as Ash’s mother had often said. There were cards everywhere too. Ash looked about her, to the multitude of sympathy cards lining every available space. A darkness approached as the reality hit her: Livvy really was gone. It had all been true. Ash sank down into the sofa as Judy took the chair next to her. Her best friend was gone, and Ash would never see her again.
Guilt tumbled over her. She should have made more of an effort to get up to London more often to see her, rather than hiding herself away in Cornwall pretending that it was the business keeping her there. It wasn’t. In reality, she’d had no desire to return to London, the city of her worst heartbreak. What if she ever bumped into Nat? Ash’s actions had been ridiculous, and she’d known it; the chances of her encountering Nat in a city as large as London were zero. But the nagging worry that an unknowing Livvy might have engineered a surprise meeting for them all still prevented her from returning too often. Emails and Skype calls to Livvy were all very well, but they weren’t the same. Despite Ash’s reluctance to meet up though, she and Livvy had remained friends to the end.
Then Livvy had died.
“Do you take sugar?” Judy’s voice pulled Ash back. “The cake I remember,” she said, laughing, “the sugar…” Judy shook her head.
“No.” Ash smiled. “No sugar, thanks.” She took her tea from Judy and watched as she cut her a slice of cake, holding her cup with one hand, and her saucer with the other, thanks to hands that had somehow developed a tremor the minute she’d entered the house. Was that the guilt again? Ash should have known about Livvy. Why had she never told her? If she’d known, Ash would have been on the first train up to London, despite everything.
“It’s so good to see you again.” Judy placed a plate with Ash’s cake on it onto the table. She reached over and put her hand on Ash’s knee. “You’ve grown into a lovely young woman. I only thought yesterday. At the…at Livvy’s funeral.”
Ash felt heat spread across her neck. “Thank you.” She took a hasty sip from her tea.
“You were this shy teenager last time I saw you.” Judy sat back in her chair. “I can picture you now, sitting on that sofa with Livvy and Nat, laughing at something that’d amused you.” Judy lifted her head to where Ash now sat. “Giggling amongst yourselves, crowded around one of Livvy’s music magazines.”
A flicker of a smile passed Ash’s lips. “It seems like a lifetime ago now.”
“And then one day you stopped coming round.” Judy studied Ash. “Just like that.” She smiled. “Teenagers, hey?”
Ash smiled back. “Never understand them.” She sipped at her tea, as if by doing so it might change the subject.
Perhaps not.
“We never knew why.” Ash watched as Judy picked up a knife and cut herself a slice of cake. “Livvy would never tell me. She just said you rarely came up to London once you got into your twenties.”
Because coming back to the place where I’d once been so happy was too painful.
“All she told me was that you failed your exams and decided to travel. Try a different path in life,” Judy said. She tilted her head to one side. “You could have still done it, you know.”
“Done what?” Ash picked up her cake and bit into it.
“Gone to medical school,” Judy said. “Like you always planned.”
Ash swallowed her cake. “No,” she finally said. “I couldn’t have.”
“You could have retaken your exams,” Judy pressed. “Gone a year later, once you’d got the travelling bug out of your system. I know you and Nat wanted to go together, but—”
“No.” Even to Ash’s own ears she’d sounded harsh. “It was never going to happen,” she added
more softly. Her dream had been shattered, thanks to Nat. Exams failed by Ash’s inability to think about anything other than her broken heart. Why would she even have contemplated retaking her final year at school, then following Nat to medical school like some dumb sheep, when Nat had made it abundantly clear she didn’t want her any more? No, Ash had decided on that hot August day when her disastrous exam results arrived at her parents’ house that she needed to get away. And fast. Start over somewhere. No one would miss her; her parents assumed she was taking a gap year off and were happy for her to have an adventure. Ash’s lies had been so convincing and had snowballed to the point her mother and father had actively encouraged her to travel, assuming she’d have it out of her system within a year and would return.
So Ash travelled. She would never have been cut out to be a doctor anyway; that’s what she told herself in the months and years following, when she travelled the world seeking answers to her many questions. Perhaps she wasn’t as much like Nat and Livvy as she’d thought when she was sixteen, both determined to succeed. All Ash wanted was to be happy and free. Studying for another seven years only to end up in a pressurized career wouldn’t make her happy or free, would it? If she told herself that enough times, she thought she might start believing it too.
“Livvy told me a while ago you’re living in Cornwall now.” Judy was speaking. “Is that right?”
Ash blinked at her. “Yes,” she said. “I have a house there. Old fisherman’s cottage, overlooking the sea.”
Or rather, a heap of junk, as Gabe had called it when he first set eyes on it. No more than an empty shell, really. Abandoned, unloved, and infested with mice until Ash saw its potential, bought it on a whim at auction, and slowly transformed it.
Now that had been cathartic. Finally choosing to settle back in England after five years of travelling Europe, Holly Cottage had been just what Ash had needed to concentrate her mind on something else rather than herself. Aged twenty-three, with a backpack full of memories, a new best friend in the shape of Gabe, and a vision for the future, Ash had embraced the idea of transforming the cottage into something wonderful. Holly Cottage, it appeared, was the therapy she could have used at eighteen.