He walked over to me and put his arms around my shoulder. ‘I’m sorry. I think this move has just been a lot for us to get our heads around. I didn’t mean to belittle you like that. I promise.’
‘I know,’ I said, quietly. ‘This just isn’t as easy as I thought it would be.’
Deep down I knew he was right. Of course there was a time to fight, but there was also a time to concede, when the fighting becomes just a means to an end, but not the actual end. I finished packing up the rest of my belongings and held firmly onto my tongue for the rest of the evening. Instead I focused on all the ways I should be grateful, too scared to let in all the reasons I should stay.
*
‘Bloody holidaymakers!’ the driver uttered as he swerved his way through Heathrow car park. ‘Take up the whole bloody road, don’t they…’
‘We’re at an airport,’ I whispered to Charlie, ‘what does he expect?’ I reached down into my bag to check my passport and phone were still in the pocket where I’d left them. ‘Did you pack an adaptor plug?’
‘I packed six,’ he said, smiling. ‘Will you just relax, please?’
‘And what about the keys to the new flat? Do I have a set of those too?’
He rummaged in his hand luggage and pulled out a set of three keys on a gold key ring. ‘Here: they’re all yours…’
‘Brilliant,’ I said, calmly. ‘I think that’s it then.’
I sat back in my seat and took a deep breath as Charlie squeezed my hand in reassurance.
‘It’s going to be fine,’ he said, smiling.
‘Terminal 3,’ the driver shouted as he pulled the car to the side of the road.
‘Where did this wind come from?’ Charlie said, putting his coat on as we stood on the pavement.
I looked up at the glass building as we made our way through the large glass doors and on into a sea of check-in desks.
‘I think this one’s ours…’ he said, waving me over.
I stood, fidgeting with my bag in a queue that seemed to go on for miles. As we reached the front of the desk I stood back as he handed over two large suitcases and one box.
‘The rest we’ll carry on,’ Charlie said as he handed over our passports.
‘One way?’ the man behind the desk said.
‘One way,’ Charlie replied, confidently.
I browsed the rows of sunglasses in duty free as Charlie sprayed on a selection of aftershaves. They were the kind of products that were bought on a whim, on the verge of a holiday. But the tone of our mood had a different feel from one of excitement. It actually bordered upon fear.
He squirted me with a dark green bottle of what only could be described as musty grass clippings. ‘Charlie, I’m not going to sit with you on the plane if you smell like a used car dealer.’
I didn’t know if it was the sandalwood, or the mix of floral undertones but after a few minutes of spraying perfumes, I felt a wave of nausea suddenly wash over me.
‘You ready?’ Charlie said, shoving his carrier bag of duty-free purchases into his rucksack.
‘Yep,’ I said, smiling, ‘you lead the way…’
We walked across the carpet as I tried to match my feet on the printed pattern: it was a calming technique that I’d learned as a child and a way of distracting me from my churning stomach. As the navy blue diamonds guided our way through the rows of fixed chairs, I looked up at the screens and could see our flight was now boarding.
‘What wrong?’ Charlie said as I gradually slowed down to a halt.
‘Nothing,’ I said, ‘I’ll be okay. I just don’t like flying.’
I took a deep breath, put one foot in front of the other and carefully focused back onto the carpet.
‘We’re in first class, Jess, it’s just booze and films,’ Charlie said, looking back at me as he strode ahead. ‘You’ll be fine, just hurry up.’
‘Mind if I just nip to the loos before we get to the gate?’ I said as my stomach lurched for the second time.
‘Yeah, but be quick, Jess,’ he said, impatiently. ‘I can already see a queue boarding ahead.’
I ran into the toilet and slammed the door behind me as a hurl of white liquid shot out my mouth and down into the pan. I could see my red nail polish move in and out of focus as my hands clung to the bowl through the weight of my retch. My stomach contracted again as I hung my head over the basin. But it was dry. I was empty.
After five minutes of calm on the toilet floor and a quick swill of water at the sink, I made my way back out into the waiting room.
‘Get it together,’ I said to myself as I walked back over to Charlie who had a sense of urgency written across his face. It became clear from his expression that if I didn’t quicken the pace slightly then we were going to miss our plane. He jogged on ahead as my legs slowed from under me; my vision, strained, reverted back into a blur.
‘Charlie,’ I said, as I heard him turn around. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t do this…’
‘What do you mean?’ he said, getting agitated. ‘The flying? Jesus, Jess, it’s fine, just hurry up will you…’
‘Charlie, I mean it, I can’t do this. I can’t get on that plane… with you.’
He crouched down in front of me as I looked into his eyes.
‘I don’t get it, Jess,’ he said, becoming more and more confused. ‘You said so yourself, you wanted a new life.’
‘But this is your life.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ he said, pulling on my arm. ‘Just get up, we’re going to be late.’
‘Charlie…’ I said, reaching out to stop him. I could feel my legs fold to the ground again, my chest tightening as I struggled to breath.
‘Get up, Jess, you’re being ridiculous,’ he said. ‘People are starting to stare.’
‘No, that’s just it, I’m not being ridiculous, Charlie. I’m not your silly little girl anymore. That was a role I was given… but didn’t once ask for.’
His eyes widened in despair. I looked over at the flashing neon light. ‘The gate’s about to close, you should go…’
‘And you want to stay here?’ he said, finally losing his patience with me. ‘Right here on the airport floor?’
I nodded firmly. ‘Charlie, you’re going to miss the plane.’
And finally, he did as instructed, turning back for a brief moment as I pulled myself up to my knees.
‘Miss, are you okay?’ I heard in the distance, as a man from the gate ran over and quickly knelt down in front of me. ‘Where are you trying to get to, Miss?’ he said, his hand rested between the edges of my shoulder blades.
‘I’m not trying to get anywhere,’ I said, pulling myself to my feet, gently. ‘I just want to stay right here.’
Chapter Twenty-Six – Human Nature
I tried to hold the sky up as the
clouds
fell
down.
As I climbed to my feet, pressing firmly into the ground below, I was foggy, aching and exhausted. The juggernaut of the past few weeks had faltered and I had fled, or returned home, which one it was, I was yet to decipher.
Throughout the past few years, a turning sphere that I had called my world had gathered pace. And I was strapped to it. Without gravity, I was being hurtled towards my future where life goals, ambitions, stable relationships and predicted accomplishments had passed me by and within this interchanging construct known as my ‘formative years,’ the parameters of what I was yearning for had now irreparably changed.
For the first time I wanted something that was within me. I wanted things in black and white, less fuss, no mess, no nonsense. I wanted to surround myself with people who had tried and failed: gold medalists at making mistakes, people who stuttered before they spoke, a little unsure, a little shy, but there, present, showing up regardless. I didn’t want a glossy exterior. I didn’t want things to be perfect.
I wheeled my carry-on across the squeaky marble floor and headed back to the familiarity of a place called home, all the while my heart convincing
my brain that everything would be all right, while my brain convinced my heart not to cry: here I was. A few milestones light of what I’d hoped to achieve but hovering in its place, the divine possibilities of tomorrow. Soaring through the clouds of expectation, I sought truth and though it may not have been as people had expected, I was standing on a chequered carpet of subtle life lessons I had so invaluably now learned.
There are many things that can deny the world of real truth. The sound of fake laughter, a convenient relationship, heavy make-up, gossip, the polite group chuckle after the delivery of a bad joke or the smell of body odour masked by deodorant; falsehood, the antithesis of what is real, lies around us every day like pungent cologne, almost scary to look at directly in the eye but even more terrifying to remain completely blind to it. But to take this away leaves a gaping hole of uncertainty, held in the knowledge that some things can’t ever really be changed. After all, I would rather be abandoned for the person I really am than loved by someone who doesn’t know me at all. I took one last look at the Heathrow departures board, the fluorescent yellow destinations flickering down. Now all that remained was me.
I couldn’t get my train ticket out of my pocket and I felt like a failure. The queues were backing up behind me creating a scrum at the mouth of the Piccadilly line. In my short absence, Heathrow tube station had become a mass of angry commuters. As I pushed my way towards the front of the crowd and slammed my card against the yellow pad, the doors shot open and I was through. I wheeled my carry case to the top of the escalator and made a brave hop onto the moving stairs. I waited dutifully behind a family, who stood to the left, beneath a few disdainful glances from onlookers. Didn’t they know that this was for speedies – perhaps they didn’t they know the rules? I patiently waited, adjourned to the sidelines. Tolerant.
After all, I was in no hurry. The past year had been a little tumultuous, a major transition down a slippery slope, but I’d managed. And so life had thrown a different ball than the one I presumed to catch, but I was still breathing. Although my beige rain mac was now a little stained, my hair hanging loosely around my ears, I sat on the platform and waited for the next train, four minutes… and counting…
An hour later, I turned the key in the flat that still felt like home, opening the door to the familiar waft of Amber’s perfume: a sign that she was out, at a party or somewhere. In a familiar motion I threw my keys onto the table in the hallway and wheeled my only case into my familiar bedroom. I stepped into the bathroom, turning on the shower to full power, taking off my clothes, standing naked beneath the falling water. I leaned against the wall steadying myself with my hand as the water cascaded over my face. What I thought was a tear fell on to my cheek, but it cleverly disguised itself as water.
As I sat on the edge of my bed in Amber’s white bath towel, my dripping wet hair slicked to my back, I looked around at my room: my candles and magazines still adorned the bookcase, clothes hung in the wardrobe that I hadn’t thought to pack. But there, on my floral pink bedspread, I made a silent promise to myself: this time there would be no days in the flat wearing only my pyjamas, no thinking sad thoughts, images blazing through my head, no crying, no self-pity, no regret.
Instead I focused on the practicalities and opened the door to my wardrobe. As I stood in front of the rail – sparse and limited – it occurred to me that although it was only clothing, these garments were the touchstones of my life so far. I flicked through the rail and stopped at the dress I wore when I first met Charlie, the outfit I bought for my first day at work, my white-shirted uniform, my black work shoes from my job at Guido’s; a catalogue of memories, a catalogue of clothes that only I had lived in. I leaned over and folded an errant T-shirt up and put it to one side. What remained? Not much, as it turned out. I took a sip of water from the bedside table and turned off the light. I closed my eyes and pictured the situation: single again, yes, and technically alone, but as far from lonely as one could possibly be.
The next morning I stood outside the red brick building of Route magazine, secretly hoping I could go unnoticed and just step back into the shoes of the girl who used to work there. I walked through the glass entrance and saw Vin in the lift, just as the doors were closing. He pressed the button firmly and waited for me to step in. Maybe there was something about his face or the honesty in the way he smiled at me but I could feel my eyes welling as soon as I looked at him. I swallowed it and stood next to him, tightly holding my portfolio bag as we rose to the fourth floor.
‘I need you to take a portrait of Rebecca in the courtyard before lunchtime.’
I nodded. ‘Of course.’
We exited the lift together and walked passed his office. He veered off as I continued through to my own.
I sat down at my desk and pulled my pictures from my bag, sticking each one back up in its usual spot. I looked down at my phone at a message received from Charlie. That got me. It read:
I still love you.
I inhaled deeply before typing out a reply:
I love you too, always did, always will.
I pressed send, picked up my notebook and before I could think anymore, made my way down to the courtyard. Of course I knew that the feeling would somehow dilute over time. Things always came to pass, just like the seasons: spring, summer, autumn and winter.
I lifted up the camera as Rebecca stood confidently next to a rosebush in the courtyard, her eyes looking directly into my lens as I raised my camera.
Click.
And I would learn to care again. Learn to give a damn about the small stuff, the things that seem so trivial to me now: text people back, make the date. Learn to fight. Fight so hard for what you want that it suddenly becomes true…
Click.
In a city so relentless and heartbreaking as London, it is crazy for anyone to want to stay, but I can never leave. And we’ll always exist within it. In ghost-infested attics of my mind, the very thought of him: in the buildings, the streets, the people, the stars. But now I take the part of observer.
Click.
Chapter Twenty-Seven – Love, and Other Things to Live For
Here is a story of the rebels and queens
Make-up and break-ups and all in between
Stealing a look from a man at the bar – did
it, but didn’t want to go that far
And here in a land of flirting and sass
Helped along by the stuff in the glass
Knowing the facts that you know to be true
Stuck to your roots and transgressions like glue.
A promise, a gift will be handed to you.
Just don’t show your feelings no matter what you do –
Don’t show your feelings no matter what you do.
So here life now stands on a wing and a prayer
Travelling the world over, both here and there
Taking the hand of those either side
With honesty and courage and nothing to hide.
Aiming high though we may hit the floor…
Guided only by Love, and Other Things to Live For.
Acknowledgements
I wanted to share my gratitude to my family: the
Dohertys and the Hopleys – this book is a part
of me and therefore it is a part of you too.
To all the team at HQ at Harper Collins:
Lisa Milton, who believed that this could be
more than just an idea and provided me with a
platform on which to share it; you helped me find
my voice and gave me the confidence to use it.
My editors, Anna Baggaley and Clio Cornish,
for their persistent hard work and dedication
in bringing order to a chaotic mind – your
patience and positivity knows no bounds.
Juliet Mushens – my one-woman army agent,
soundboard and trusted ear. Thank you for standing
by me at every turn. From the moment I arrived in
your offi
ce with a folder full of notes to having the
unprecedented foresight to see that through to a novel.
I don’t know how you do what you do, but thank you.
My heartfelt gratitude to Susanne and Brando
Boniver, for lending me a castle in the skies of
Rome within which this book was written.
And to all my close friends, colleagues and random strangers
who encouraged me in times of self-doubt by uttering
the simple yet invaluable words: just keep on going…
Website: www.louiseleverett.com
Instagram: @louiseleverett
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Love, and Other Things to Live For Page 28