Half the World Away

by Rebecca Banks

  Twenty-seven years old and heading for divorce. She had been ashamed.

  A year later she heard on the grapevine that he was engaged to someone else, and his profile picture on Facebook now showed him happily walking under a shower of confetti next to a beautiful blonde in a wedding gown.

  She knew it was time to move on and she knew she couldn’t go back, but it hurt like hell to feel like you weren’t good enough, yet the next girl to come along was. They’d now taken their relationship a step further than Abbie and Josh ever did, and the thought made her close her eyes and curl up in the foetal position. He had found someone new who was good enough to be the mother of his children.

  She knew she had to find a way to make the pain stop.

  A week later, Abbie walked purposefully into a meeting room at The Ritz, facing Utah Saints board director Hank Henderson (the third, apparently) and two of his fellow board members. They didn’t introduce themselves and stayed mostly quiet throughout. She was slightly daunted as the room setup resembled how she imagined a firing squad would look. She nervously smiled, with only one of the men facing her returning the gesture, and mentally prepared herself for a grilling.

  Hank was friendly though, and she immediately felt at ease in his presence. The other two middle-aged men were impossible to read, so she tried to block out their presence and focus on the man sitting in the centre. The interview was flowing nicely and she forged an easy rapport with Hank as he explained the vision for the Utah Saints soccer team and American soccer as a whole industry. She couldn’t help but be utterly enthused at his ideas. The plans to develop the team were solid and his excitement was infectious.

  When he asked about her career starting out in music and why she made the switch to football, her response flowed freely.

  ‘I loved the music industry, I really did. My father was a music producer before he retired and I definitely inherited his passion for music. I got into promoting bands, which was fantastic and I really enjoyed doing that for a couple of years.’

  Hank nodded, seeming interested. ‘So why make that jump from music to sport?’

  ‘Something about sport intrigued me and it’s as much entertainment as music or television and has just as much impact on people, if not more. There’s nothing like sport that resonates with a community, a team of supporters or even an entire country. Remember when Bubba Watson won the Masters for the first time a few years ago? Well, I cried. I’m a casual golf watcher at best, but the magnitude of the occasion and Bubba’s reaction caused an emotional tidal wave for the general viewer, and that’s the power of sport.’

  ‘That was some day,’ one of the other board members agreed. It was the first time she had received a reaction of any type from one of the other men facing her, and Abbie took it as encouragement to continue.

  ‘And the Olympics over here in London. It changed the attitude of a whole country. We were watching sports we had never heard of, cheering athletes who until that day had been strangers to us. And everyone in London was smiling. It really felt like a different country we were living in for those weeks – we were united as a nation and it has left behind a real legacy. Cycling got a real boost and you couldn’t move for a while in London for new adoptees biking to work.’

  She paused for thought and saw the three men smiling at her. Finally, she seemed to have cracked the other two. She blushed. ‘I’m so sorry, I get a little carried away sometimes.’

  ‘Don’t apologise at all. Your passion is fantastic to see, and we need someone like you with us at Utah Saints,’ Hank said. ‘We need someone who lives and breathes sport and has the knowledge and skill to put us firmly in the spotlight, as soccer is still very much evolving in the US.’

  She walked out of the room at the end of the interview with as much purpose as she had walked in. She knew it was likely nothing would come of it but it had felt good at least, and helped her remember why she followed the career path she had.

  At home later that day, Abbie’s mental playback of the interview, while she was finishing eating her dinner, was interrupted by the ring of her phone and she jumped to retrieve it from her bag, seeing Michael’s name pop up on the screen. Swiping the phone to answer, she started speaking as soon as Michael had said hi.

  ‘Thanks for setting today up, Michael. It was great practice and they were a really interesting bunch of guys to chat to. It really did help get me fired up a bit so I’m ready for other ideas now. And bless you for phoning to see how it went.’

  Michael laughed loudly. ‘I’m not phoning to see how it went. I didn’t have time to think about it before Hank phoned me to offer you the job. They want you to start as soon as possible, and they’re offering you an absolute shitload of money and an incredible move package. Before you say no, promise me you’ll take a day or so to really think about it?’

  The sound of silence filled the airwaves.

  ‘Abbie, are you there?’

  ‘Yes, yes, sorry. It’s a bit unexpected, that’s all.’

  She listened, stunned, as he ran through the details of the package. Her mouth dropped open when he mentioned the salary. She barely heard the rest as she was still processing the figure. It was more than double what she earned now and it would be a promotion. Her mind started racing. She couldn’t really do it, could she? How good would it look on her CV though? It was only for a set period of time, and her parents were still young.

  She brought herself back to the call as Michael asked if she had any questions. ‘No questions, but I do need some time to think. This really wasn’t in my life plan and it’s come out of left field.’

  ‘Look, I totally understand. Take a couple of days. Let me know any questions that crop up while you’re thinking and I’ll help. I certainly don’t want to push you into doing something you don’t want to do but, equally, I don’t want you to miss what could be not only a great career opportunity, but an amazing life experience.’

  Ending the call, she walked back into the kitchen and started doing the washing up, the dull task acting as the perfect antidote to her whirring mind. Could she do it? Did she want to? She had to admit it was an exciting idea, but she didn’t think she could make the move from her home. It would be a huge change. She was contemplating moving to a place that not only had she never visited, but she’d barely heard of. She’d only ever been to America once, to New York, and everyone said that wasn’t like the rest of the country. She had to be mad.

  Finishing drying and putting away in the kitchen, she remembered that an old football colleague of hers had attended a couple of American Major League Soccer games the year before on an extended road trip. She’d send him a message and get a bit of intel.

  While her laptop fired up, she clicked onto Facebook and started scrolling through the recent photos of dogs and holidays and cat videos reposted from YouTube. The seemingly harmless ‘people you may know’ section came into view, and there he was. Josh Hawthorn. Like a car crash that you know you shouldn’t look at but you just can’t help yourself, Abbie clicked on the name. Oh god, his profile image. It had changed from the picture-perfect smiling wedding day confetti shot to one of a baby scan.

  Clicking on the photo, she saw ninety-seven likes and fifty-three comments. The last comment was from Josh himself. ‘Thanks everyone!!! We couldn’t be happier. Baby Hawthorn is due in July, making our two into a perfect three. Love Josh and Hannah xxx’

  Abbie slammed the laptop shut. She refused to cry. He’d had enough of her tears, and two years down the line she had to pull up her boots and figure things out.

  Life had to change, and she had to change.

  Picking up her phone, she navigated to the text icon and composed a message.

  I’ll take the job. Consider me a fully signed-up member of the Utah Saints. Let’s talk tomorrow about the details, but I trust that you’ve got the best you can for me. Thanks. I think you’re about to change my life!

  CHAPTER 4

  The task of sorting out her belongings a
nd deciding which to throw out, donate or pack was upon her before she knew it. She was doing a little bit each night after work, and tonight she was confronting the boxes under the bed, hastily packed when she left the apartment she shared with Josh. She could barely remember what they contained, and if she hadn’t needed them in the last two years, she couldn’t think what might be useful in them now.

  One box contained books. She carefully went through, putting aside the ones she hadn’t read to take to America, and separating the ones she had read into a bag that would go to the charity shop. That was quite a good find. A pile of books would no doubt be handy for evenings in her new home. Maybe she’d start exercising when she got out there. She could find some classes, maybe join a running club. Her excitement was growing on a daily basis as she thought of how she could shape this experience just how she wanted to. Salt Lake City really was going to be her oyster.

  She had been sent her ticket and she left on Sunday. Four more days at work and a final Saturday in London and she would be leaving on a jet plane. The days were flying by faster than she had anticipated. She had to get everything done.

  The next box was filled with old music magazines. She had kept them as they all had articles or reviews of her clients from her time as a publicist at the record label. She opened one at random and smiled at the memory of the photo shoot with a band at a mad hatter’s tea party. The lead singer was sporting a tall hat worn crooked while the bass player had his pinkie sticking out while holding a teacup that looked ridiculously small in his large hand. There was a live rabbit perched on the table with them and the drummer was dressed as a Cheshire cat. They’d all fallen about laughing when the rabbit decided it needed a bathroom break just as the drummer had perched him on his lap.

  She’d leave that box with her parents in Liverpool. The magazines were worth keeping; a record of a great time in her young career and a lot of fun times. Her parents were coming down with Lily on Saturday to stay overnight and wave her goodbye at the airport the next day.

  Reaching back under the bed, she retrieved the final box. All at once, she remembered what was in there.

  This was the history of her and Josh, all neatly packaged up in a box. There was a stack of photos, which she quickly flicked through. Under that was their wedding album. He had kindly and sweetly told her she could keep it, and not knowing how to respond, she had packed it and moved it out with the rest of her things. Turning the pages, she noticed how young they looked. The expression on their faces was so innocent and happy, she never would have guessed looking at those photos that they wouldn’t survive even four years.

  Next up was a large envelope containing their wedding certificate and, of course, the resulting divorce papers. Ironic that the paperwork could coexist quite nicely for years gathering dust when their owners couldn’t manage it. A dark blue velvet box held her simple gold wedding band which Josh had secretly engraved with the date of the wedding and the inscription ‘And I Love Her’, a surprise he had revealed at the altar in reference to the first dance they had picked for their reception.

  She was about to put the lid back on when she noticed a final small envelope at the bottom. She knew what was inside, and her heart started beating faster. She was facing up to things. Exorcising demons. She needed to see it again. She lifted the flap of the envelope and pulled out the photograph. The small typed letters in the top corner were still clear on the scan. Baby Hawthorn. The first one. He or she would have been five now.

  She put the scan back in the envelope and tucked it inside one of the books that she was taking to America. She put aside the marriage and divorce paperwork, making a mental note to find somewhere safe to keep it with the rest of her life admin. She repacked the rest of her old life into the box, replaced the lid, then walked outside and threw it all in the wheelie bin, dusting her hands off afterwards as though she had been handling something unsavoury.

  Abbie’s final day in London was reserved for her goodbye dinner. Her mum, dad and sister Lily came all the way from Liverpool to see her off.

  On Saturday evening, she left them with Polly to go out and buy wine while they deliberated over takeaway menus. She walked back into a flat full of people and a shout of ‘surprise’. Polly had taken it upon herself to organise a going away party. She didn’t feel a departure like this should go without fanfare. Abbie soaked up the atmosphere, grateful to Polly for doing something so lovely for her.

  Polly’s bandmates were over in the corner, obviously in charge of the playlist. Lily was in the kitchen with Damian the artist, who was teaching her the intricacies of mixology and how to make the perfect mojito. A couple of her old university friends were over talking to her parents and some of her colleagues from the music days were attempting to find common ground with her newer work pals from the football club, which included Dave and Mavis.

  She swallowed back a lump in her throat as the reality hit that she was giving all this up. She’d been sleepwalking through life for two years yet she had all these wonderful people around her, who she’d been neglecting as she threw herself into work. She owed it to them as much as herself to make the most of Utah and to come back at some point more like her old self. And she needed to start being a bit more like the old Abbie right now.

  She decided to join her sister. She wouldn’t see her for months and twenty-nine was probably a good age to learn how to make the perfect cocktail. It seemed like a useful life skill.

  Fifteen minutes later she was giggling away with Michael and Lily as they tasted an awful pink concoction, which they were planning to trick Polly into trying. Just as Abbie placed the finishing touch of a green cocktail umbrella on top with a flourish, a voice from behind made her jump.

  ‘Don’t give up your day job will you, that looks like an abomination.’

  Her head flew around at the sound of the Irish lilt and she grinned as she saw Violet.

  ‘Come on then, don’t just stand there, I’ve spent thirty minutes on the Northern line to get here, someone needs to put wine in the hole in the middle of my face and quick. Sorry I couldn’t come earlier with Michael, I had to pick something up and so I told him to come ahead without me.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Abbie smiled. ‘I’m so glad you’re here now. Lily, can you grab Violet a drink please?’

  Lily grabbed a wine glass and poured it almost to the brim, handing it over to her sister’s best friend.

  Then Violet motioned to Abbie and the pair walked through to the bedroom, Violet closing the door behind them. Taking in the nearly bare room and the two suitcases standing next to the wall, she said, ‘So, this is it then, you’re really off?’

  ‘I really am.’

  Violet’s lower lip started to wobble. ‘What am I going to do without you, Abs?’

  With that she put down her glass, threw her arms around Abbie and started to cry.

  Abbie wiped away her own tears as they moved apart to look at each other again.

  ‘I’m going to miss you so much, Vi. But you know I get to come home four times a year, you can visit me, we can Skype and I’m sure I’ll be back before you know it.’

  Abbie nodded, smiling at her friend to reassure her that she was right.

  ‘I know this is great for your career and you seem really set on it, so you should give it a bloody good go. Now, let’s go get me a whisky. This wine tastes like shite.’

  Laughing, they returned to the party where, by this point, the lead guitarist from Polly’s band had started chatting up Lily, who seemed to be enjoying it. Definitely time for Abbie to intervene like an embarrassing older sister has the divine right to do.

  ‘Have you got everything?’

  ‘Yes, Mum.’

  ‘Have you got your passport?’

  ‘Yes, Dad.’

  ‘You will phone when you get there, won’t you?’

  ‘I promise I’ll phone.’

  ‘You’ll come back if you hate it, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes, Vi, I promise I’ll c
ome back if it’s awful.’

  ‘You’ll tell me if you meet any film stars?’

  ‘Yes, Lily, although, like I’ve told you, I’m not anywhere near Hollywood. And you’ll stay away from wannabe rock stars in my absence?’

  ‘Well, I can’t promise that. Dad says the music business is just in us. We can’t help it. I’m probably meant to be a muse.’

  ‘Amusing more like,’ piped up her dad.

  Everyone laughed and it helped to break the slight tension in the air that their little motley crew had felt the whole way to the airport.

  ‘Let’s do it now.’ Lily looked as if she was going to burst with excitement as she looked at her mum and dad in turn with a pleading look on her face. A face that was clearly used to getting its own way.

  Her mother rolled her eyes. ‘Go on then.’

  Lily took out a small wrapped box and handed it to Abbie.

  ‘Go on, open it,’ her little sister urged.

  ‘What’s this?’

  Her dad cleared his throat before he spoke. ‘We wanted you to have something that whenever you look at it, you’ll think of home. Just a little something to say good luck.’

  Smiling, Abbie untied the carefully fixed bow and removed the pink wrapping paper. Sitting on a burgundy velvet bed inside the black jewellery box was the daintiest of silver charm bracelets.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ she exclaimed, studying the charms that were already hanging from the links.

  Lily leaned in, pointing at the charms one by one. ‘You see, there’s the Beatles so you’ll remember Liverpool, the Camden Town tube sign to remember your flat with Polly, a football for your job, a skirt cos you used to dress trendy and a treble clef cos you like music.’

  ‘It’s perfect, I love it so much. Thank you.’

  She gathered everyone into a group hug and then her mother helped her clasp on the bracelet.

  Violet scooted forward. ‘I got this for you to add onto it.’