“So you’re thinking you should say nothing?”
“I’m thinking I need to be absolutely certain of what I want, before potentially ruining someone’s happiness.”
“That’s my girl.” Blod’s quiet response cemented my current intention to do nothing. My former very real, albeit unacknowledged, daydreams of Hope and I running into each other’s arms along a palm lined beach seemed ridiculously naïve and childish now. How could I have thought I would be so certain of my feelings for someone I hadn’t seen in so long? But then why did coming to Ko Tao feel like it was the right thing to do? I just didn’t understand what my instincts were trying to tell me.
I became aware that I had once again receded into silence, with Blod waiting patiently at the other end of the phone.
“I’m sorry Blod. It’s so late for you, and I don’t even know what I’m saying. I just needed to talk to someone who I knew would understand.”
“That’s alright, love. I’m here whenever you want me.” It was a very sweet thing to say, given I could hear her desperately trying to stifle a yawn.
“I’ll let you get some sleep, Blod. I just need to have a think. Whatever happens, I’ve had a great time here. It was such a wonderful gift.”
“It was my very real pleasure, Sarah. And whatever happens with Hope, it seems that you’ve come a long way since you’ve been there, love.” I always knew I could rely on Blod to help me feel better about myself.
“I have,” my spoken agreement solidified by a strong feeling in my gut. I knew I had, and I was really proud of that.
“Goodnight, Sarah.”
“’Night, Blod. I’ll give you a ring in a couple of days.” It was my turn to stifle a yawn. The sun had risen a few hours before and I had not slept a wink. I replace the hotel phone in its cradle and lay back against the cool white sheets.
What had really surprised me about the meeting on the beach was my complete lack of jealousy at seeing Hope with someone else. Whenever I had allowed myself to think of that before, it was accompanied by a pain I could barely tolerate. It seems the old saying was true, fear of the thing is indeed worse than the thing itself. So if I wasn’t jealous, then had my feelings for Hope completely gone?
But then we she hugged me, it seemed so right, so familiar to me. It was like coming home.
Feeling sleep start to overwhelm me, I quickly undress, clean my teeth and climb into bed. Focusing attention on my still shallow breathing, I manage to drift off to sleep, desperately clutching a pillow to my chest.
13
Seriously? I’m back in the cold and dark? Even in my sleep I’m starting to feel frustrated by my own personal unconscious version of Groundhog Day. What the hell was this dream trying to tell me?
The taut, seatbelt strap is still restricting my chest. The bump on my head still pounding, again demanding my attention. This time I swipe at the bloody trickle in disgust; curiosity then demands that I look up to see if she once again appears.
I wait, breathless, until her silhouette appears in the light. She again moves slowly downward, her rain speckled face coming nearer to mine. Once more she mouths something at me, and I still can’t hear. I childishly stamp my cold, numb feet, and once again scream into the silence.
This time a soft, pale hand reaches out. She points silently to her lips, a gentle instruction to watch. She mouths again, more slowly this time.
“Let go.”
I blindly shake my head in confusion. Let go? Let go of what? Her pale finger points down into the car, and I follow her lead, only to realise that I’m still desperately holding on to my mother’s freezing, rain-soaked hand.
I look back at Hope in surprise. She nods reassuringly at me.
“Let go,” she whispers.
I wake immediately from the dream, and sit bolt upright in my bed. My heart is once again hammering, but not from fear or anxiety. I close my eyes and punch the air with both hands.
“Thank the bloody Lord for that!”
I feel both exhilarated and at peace, because for the very first time since coming here, I know exactly what it is that I need to do.
I shower quickly, and dress, tying up my hair and shoving on a pair of sandals. My new certainty has added an urgency to my movements. With the decision made, I know I have to act quickly before I do my usual trick and overthink it. I head out of my room and to the hotel’s reception. Taking a few minutes to ask a few questions, I once again head off toward the town, this time using the road rather than the beach. It takes me about ten minutes to reach my destination.
I take a very deep breath as I stand nervously outside the office housing Hope’s very professional looking diving school.
14
I look out of the window at the mist shrouding the endless rainforest. The train had been climbing gradually for about two hours and the altitude and coming twilight were both definitely affecting the outside temperature. I rummage through my bag to find a light fleece, and quickly pull it over my head, dislodging my reading glasses in my haste.
Retrieving them them from the seat, I resume my previous past-time; poring carefully over a guide book of South East Asia that was the size of War and Peace. There was so much to do, so many possible places to see that I really didn’t know where to start.
My stomach starts to rumble and I wonder when my food is going to arrive. I hadn’t eaten a proper meal since leaving the mania of Bangkok’s Hualamphong station, but had simply topped up on a variety of unhealthy snacks and soft drinks. My stomach clearly felt in the need of something more substantial, and was making it’s feelings well known.
I look back out of the window, shaking my head at the speed of events of the past few days. I feel a very real sense of peace for the first time in over five years, and I can hardly keep the smile from my face.
The jumping off point had clearly been my trip to see Hope. It seemed ages ago, but in fact had just been four days ago. Four days in which I’d sandwiched in so much, I barely had time to sleep.
Hope had thankfully been alone at the office when I arrived; Danni apparently out on an all-day excursion. I counted it as a blessing. Danni really wasn’t a complication I could deal with at that point. I invited Hope for a coffee, and she agreed, closing the office for an early lunch. After we’d ordered some food and a drink at a bar across the road, I began.
“You don’t seem very surprised to see me.”
“Well I hoped that you’d pop in again before you went home. You’re looking well, Sarah.” Hope’s eyes are searching mine. Although she’s not surprised at my visit, she’s clearly curious about what I have to say.
“I am. Well, I’m better. I haven’t been great for a while, and I think this holiday was just what I needed.”
“You’ve been ill?” Hope’s concern was evident.
“No. Just… not great.”
She nods, but looks then looks down so I can’t tell what she’s thinking.
Finally after a few minutes she looks back at me.
“I’m guessing that your visit here isn’t really accidental.”
I shake my head slowly, not trusting my voice. My throat seems to have shrunk to half its usual size.
“Why are you here Sarah?” The question held both curiosity and fear, and I smile, understanding the feeling of such confusion.
“You know until yesterday I couldn’t have told you the answer.” Hope’s eyes narrow, and I know that I’d only added further to her confusion.
“Blod bought me the trip for my birthday.” Partial understanding creeps into her eyes. “She seems to think we have unfinished business.” A look of definite fear flashes across her features, and I know I need to cut to the chase, to reassure her that I’m not about to mess with her happy new life.
“No, not like that. Well, I’m not sure what Blod thought, but I know not that.” Her relief is palpable. “I’ll try not to take it personally though.” My self-deprecation resulted in a look of horror on Hope’s face.
�
�Oh, no Sarah. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… it took so long to get over what happened to us. To get over you. I’m not sure I could really go there again.” Her eyes begin to tear, and I grasp at her hand on the table.
“And I’m not going to ask you to.” I give her a minute for that to sink in, and only continue when I see the fear gone from her eyes and only curiosity remain.
“So why come here?”
“Even though I didn’t really know why I was coming, it still felt like the right thing to do. I had a week’s rest, then did a bit of exploring and I started to wonder whether I was going to even come and find you whilst I was here.” Hope says nothing, but a squeeze of her hand encouraged me to continue.
“After we ran into you on the beach last night I felt things that I hadn’t expected, and it was only when I woke up this morning that I realised why I’d come. Maybe seeing you was the catalyst, I don’t know, but for the first time I knew absolutely why I needed to see you.”
I take a deep breath. The next part will be the hardest.
“I needed to tell you that I’m sorry.”
Although I take a breath, it doesn’t stop the tears from falling.
Hope’s expression tells me better than words that my apology wasn’t remotely necessary. She says nothing, but grips my hand tight, and gives me time to collect myself.
A few minutes later she herself inhales loudly and speaks.
“Sarah, I was with you for over six years. Don’t you think I know how much you would have punished yourself for those last months we were together? Did you think I thought you some kind of monster?”
I shake my head, still trying to stem the flow of tears.
“But what I did was inexcusable.”
“Sarah, you had just lost your mother. That wasn’t you. That was grief. I’d hoped that I would be able to help, but it seemed like my being there just made things worse.” Her gaze falls to the floor and I know that I have brought back some very painful memories. “I’d started to think that I wasn’t what you needed anymore, and that’s why I left.”
She looks back at me. I nod in understanding.
“I think I felt about as much guilt for leaving you as you must have felt for the way you behaved.” I felt a paradigm shift; at no point had I considered that Hope would feel bad for choosing to leave.
A palpable aura of relief surrounded our table. These were words that had needed to be spoken for a very long time. We each take another deep breath, and then a look communicates the end of that chapter, a joint wish to move past and move on. There was really no need for either of us to say anymore.
We sit in silence to process, until we’re both ready to continue.
“So tell me about Danni.” I smile to encourage the change of subject.
Hope relaxes her shoulders and spends the next half hour happily talking about her new life; her move to Ko Tao, the problems setting up her school and of how she met Danni. I return the favour with updates on our former friends, Blod and my work. Finally she moves the conversation round to Kate.
“And the girl on the beach?”
“Well it remains to be seen as to whether that particular tale becomes a novel or remains a short story.” My self-conscious smile betrays my uncertainty. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see.”
Hope once again squeezes my hand.
“Life is for living Sarah. Don’t let opportunities keep passing you by.”
It seemed a good place for us to leave. I quickly pay the bill, ignoring Hope’s protests. Rising from our seats, we move to a long but very happy embrace. We both know it’s unlikely that we’ll see each other again; without saying another word, she softly kisses my cheek and walks slowly back across the road to her shop-front office.
I make my way back to the beach, and take my time wandering back to my hotel, deep in thought and sandals in hand, wading through the small, sparkling waves at the edge of the sea.
On reaching my hotel room, I head immediately for the phone and, in an efficient and practical mode, spend the next hour talking to a variety of my friends and colleagues.
A couple of hours later, and I’m showered and dressed, my rucksack is packed and sits waiting at the side of the door. I look out of my room to gaze once again at the sea and rapidly darkening sky. Whatever happens now, I know that my time in Ko Tao has come to an end, but I also know it was an experience that I will never forget.
Grabbing my flip flops and locking the hotel room door, I make my way for the last time to the beach, heading south past the now familiar bars and restaurants. I look ahead at the teeming social life, feeling its energy, searching out one very particular beacon in the darkness; the warm, orange glow from a row of beachfront fire pits.
A small, soft hand slides onto my shoulder and I smile in anticipation. Kate takes her seat across from mine and places a tray of food cartons onto the bench next to her; the smell is just divine. My tummy rumbles loudly again and Kate laughs.
“I can see I’m just in time.” Still smiling she hands me one of the cartons, some plastic chopsticks and a lukewarm can of soft drink. “Sorry, they didn’t have any cold cans.”
“That’s okay. It’s the food I’m most bothered about.”
We sit together happily chomping away at our spicy noodles, until both satisfied we settle back against the hard backed seats of the train.
“So, have you decided where you’d like us to go next?” she asks, rifling in her bag for a misshapen bar of chocolate, bought from a vending machine in a service station the day before.
“I was thinking after Chiang Mai, perhaps going north and doing the boat trip down the Mekong to Luang Prabang. It’s meant to be really gorgeous. Then south, across the Plain of Jars, down to Vientiane and then on to Si Phan Don.” I finally pause for breath, the excitement in my eyes making Kate’s smile even broader. “But, of course it’s up to you too. Am happy to go wherever really.”
“That all sounds absolutely fantastic.” She carefully removes the remains of my food containers from the bench next to me, and takes the now empty space.
“I think I need to do a bit more research, just to be sure though,” and I pick up my colourful tome, resuming my detailed consideration of all that South-East Asia had to offer us itinerant travellers.
I feel Kate sigh deeply, and leaning to one side, she nestles her head into my shoulder. And there we stay, until the train pulls in darkness into Chiang Mai station.
We retrieve rucksacks and various other belongings before alighting the train. Speeding quickly along the platform, Kate looks back at me, her brown eyes liquid with warmth and happiness. She holds out her hand.
“You okay?”
I take the hand offered to me, and at the same time feel my stomach flip for so many different reasons.
“I’m okay.” I pause taking in the vision of the girl that had so quickly turned my world upside down. “In fact, I’m so very much more than okay.”
And we leave the brightly lit station platform, heading together into the midnight-blue unknown.
15
Blodwyn Price moves carefully down the staircase of her house, cursing the increasingly aging bones that mean it takes double the normal time to descend the thirteen small steps.
As she reaches the last of them, the big brass letterbox on her front door clatters furiously, causing a previously sleeping golden retriever to bark furiously.
“Sheba, hush, it’s just the postman,” Blod explains, and then immediately realises her reassurance is pointless as the dog shows no signs of understanding. Marginally regretting the kindness shown in offering to look after her neighbour’s dog for a week, she bends uneasily to gather up the small collection of mail recently dropped through the large Victorian door.
Aside from the usual mixture of brown and white official looking envelopes, her eye is caught by a small, brightly coloured postcard. Extracting it carefully, and disposing indifferently to the rest of the mail on her hallway table, Blo
d smiles broadly as she spies it’s label of origin.
Turning over from the picture perfect vision of a Thai beach, her smile grows wider as she reads the short message scrawled on the reverse.
I’ve loved my trip here so much that I’ve decided to stay a bit longer. Simon has agreed an extended absence for me, in fact I think he was relieved I asked. Nic has agreed to watch the house and sort the mail. Kate and I are heading north tomorrow to Chiang Mai, and then who knows where from there. We’re thinking Asia for a few months, followed by South America, with a brief stop off to see her relatives in New Zealand. Will stay in touch and send postcards so you can keep track of our adventures.
With lots and lots of love,
Sarah.
PS. Thank you.
Blod swiftly wipes a small tear from her eye and, giving herself a quick shake to avoid an overwhelming expansion in her chest, she thoughtfully makes her way toward her still warm, cosy kitchen. She fills her whistling kettle with water, places it on the ancient oil-fired range and retrieves a large farmhouse loaf from a ceramic bread bin. For some inexplicable reason, she seems to have suddenly developed a hankering for a mug of sweet tea and hot, thick, buttered toast.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Angharad J Davies is an aspiring new author of lesbian romance fiction. Following successful careers in both marketing and education, she is now heading in a slightly different direction and indulging her lifelong passion for reading and writing fiction by creating a new range of self-published novellas and short stories. Her aim is to create bite-sized, accessible stories for women, filled with strength, romance and optimism.
If you liked this book, then more of her work will be available on Amazon over the coming months. If you would like to receive updates on publication dates and exclusive offers on new releases, then please email her using the address given below. Your details will not be passed to anyone else.
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