The Second Love of My Life

by Victoria Walters

  ‘There’s only a right time for you,’ Dan adds now, walking away to help Julia choose her design. I look at my right wrist, which is now covered so my new tattoo will be protected, and my left hand, which is covered in a different way with the symbol of my love for and commitment to Lucas. I understand that both covers have to stay until what they are covering has properly healed. I just hope I recognise the moment when that has happened.

  My phone rings then, playing my favourite Miranda Lambert song. I am surprised to see John’s name light up the display. I slip outside, my heartbeat speeding up as I wonder what he’s going to say. I wince at the memory of walking out on him and Emma as they shared their good news with me. He has every right to yell down the phone.

  ‘Hi, John,’ I say tentatively, pacing back and forth in front of the parlour, taking my anxiety out on the pavement.

  ‘Rose, thank you for picking up,’ he says, his voice quiet and strained. ‘I wouldn’t call unless it was a real . . . I know you’re in Scotland, but is there any way you could come back early? Please, I don’t know what to do.’

  My blood runs cold. ‘What’s happened?’

  He takes a deep breath, then tells me in a whisper, ‘We lost the baby.’

  ‘Oh no, John,’ I gasp, stopping my pacing in shock. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I know she was only six weeks, but she’s not taking it well. It’s a lot to ask but I don’t know what to do. I think she wants to see you; I don’t think I’m helping like you could,’ he says, his voice breaking at the end.

  It sounds as though he might cry. I have never seen or heard him cry. I lean against the wall feeling incredibly far away and helpless. ‘Are you sure? The way I left? I haven’t heard from her since . . .’

  ‘You’re best friends,’ John replies simply.

  I nod, even though he can’t see me. Of course he’s right. I push aside my fear of going home because Emma needs me. There is no decision to make. She’s been there for me through the hardest times of my life. Her family took me in when I didn’t have anywhere to go. She has never let me down and I’m not about to let her down now. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can,’ I promise and hang up, taking a deep breath to prepare myself for going home.

  When everyone has got their tattoos, we drive back to the farm and Dan comes into my cottage with me. He stands in front of my heart painting and whistles. ‘It’s stunning, darling. I knew you had potential, but . . . Heather is going to want to see this.’

  I pause in my packing to smile at him. ‘Really?’

  ‘Absolutely. You are going to be a big deal, kid. You promise you’ll tell everyone it was down to me, right?’

  I chuckle and shake my head. ‘You’re crazy, I’m not going to be a big deal.’ I glance at the painting. ‘But I’m proud of it. This place really was inspiring.’ I bite my lip. ‘Do you think I can do it again? I mean, back at home, on my own . . .’

  It’s his turn to shake his head. ‘After this, you can’t have any self-doubt about your talent, Rose. You’ve got this.’

  ‘You called me Rose,’ I say in disbelief after all the terms of endearment he’s come out with here.

  ‘You’re a bad influence on me,’ he says, but he steps forward and holds his palm up. ‘To the art world’s next big thing.’

  I high-five him, laughing. I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone quite like Dan before.

  When I’m finished packing, I wrap up my canvas in brown paper and string and order a taxi to take me to the station. Looking around the cottage as I pull on a jacket, I feel like these almost four weeks have helped to heal me more than I thought possible. I’m excited about painting again and have turned a corner in expressing my feelings on canvas. I feel able to go back home because Emma needs me and I will put things right with Gloria and Graham. I’m still angry with Robert and hurt that he lied to me, but I have also recognised how much I opened up my heart to him before I found out the truth. It’s impossible to forget that he’s the reason I came here.

  Dan is outside smoking when I come out with my things. ‘Are you going to be okay, Rose?’

  ‘I hope so.’ I smile. ‘I think I will.’

  ‘Just don’t let your pain take over every part of your life. You lost love once, you don’t want to lose it again if it comes back your way, okay?’

  I look into his eyes and see how serious he is about this. They are tinged with sadness and I feel as if I’m looking at someone with a bag of regrets weighing him down, despite all he’s achieved in his life. There’s wisdom in his words. ‘I won’t, I promise.’

  He winks at me and the sadness melts away behind a grin as the others join us. I hug each of them in turn, sad that we’re parting, but I’m sure we’ll all keep in touch.

  It’s time I went home.

  I don’t think there was ever really a choice for me. It won’t always be easy living in Talting surrounded by so many memories and the people who know my past as well as I do, but it holds such a significant place in my heart that I can’t let go of it. I don’t want to let it go. I want to try to build a future for myself there. I belong there, I suppose.

  I climb into the taxi and wave to everyone as it pulls away from the farm, then I glance down at my fresh tattoo and know that I’ll always have a piece of them and this place with me now. I turn around and look ahead to returning home, certain that I’m stronger from the time I’ve spent here.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Darkness envelops Talting as my taxi pulls up outside Emma and John’s house but the warm sea air is welcoming. The front door opens before I even get out of the car and John appears and rushes out to grab my bags. When I look at his eyes, I can see the life has been sucked out of them. I pull him silently into a hug and we stand like that for a few moments as the taxi leaves us alone in the silent night.

  ‘Don’t worry about me,’ he says finally, pulling away and adjusting my bags in his hands. ‘She’s in bed but I don’t think she’s asleep.’

  ‘I’ll go up and see her.’ I pause. ‘I’m not sure what to say.’

  He rubs his chin. ‘Nor am I.’

  I head upstairs as John takes my bags into the hall. I feel his eyes on me as I go up. I sense he feels helpless right now. I knock softly on the door but there’s no response, so I peek around it and see Emma lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. She looks small to me for the first time since I’ve known her.

  ‘Can I?’ I ask. I walk tentatively over to the bed and perch on the edge of it. She avoids catching my eyes. ‘I came straight home as soon as I heard,’ I say finally. ‘I’m so sorry, Em.’

  She sighs. ‘You didn’t have to come home.’

  ‘I hate that you think that.’ I slip my shoes off and lie down next to her on my side so we’re facing each other. ‘I wanted to be here with you. I’ve missed you. You’re my best friend. I hate that I ran out on you like I did. I’ve been a shitty friend back to you, after all you’ve done for me.’

  ‘You had a lot to deal with.’

  ‘I should still have been there for you.’

  She shakes her head. ‘It’s okay.’

  I brush back her hair from her face and look into her glistening eyes. ‘How are you doing?’

  ‘I know it’s crazy but I just feel so guilty.’

  ‘Why on earth would you feel guilty?’

  ‘Because I must have done something wrong. I’ve failed at being a mother before I’ve even started,’ she says, brushing away a tear.

  ‘What did the doctor say?’

  ‘Just that sometimes it happens before three months and it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong. I could still have a baby, but how does he know? It has to be my fault.’

  ‘Come here.’ I pull her towards me and wrap my arms around her. ‘I know now that people say things to you and they can soun
d reasonable and make all kinds of sense, but if you don’t believe, if you don’t accept it in your own heart, then it doesn’t make any difference to how you feel. I need to tell you that this is not your fault, that you haven’t failed, that unfortunately this is common and you will be an incredible mum one day, but I completely understand you feeling that way.’

  Emma leans on my shoulder and I can feel her tears wetting my top. I wish I could take her pain away but I know she just has to feel it. It’s the only way to make it out the other side. ‘Everything will be okay,’ I say softly, stroking back her hair. ‘I promise,’ I say, a tear of my own falling on to my shoulder. I feel as if it’s taken me two years to feel that way. But I know that even if you are filled with pain, love will find a way to heal your heart in the end. Emma squeezes my hand once, so I know she’s heard me. We lapse into silence, and somewhere between our tears we fall asleep, still leaning on one another.

  ‘You got a tattoo?’

  I open my eyes as Emma grabs my wrist to look at it. I blink at the light, then study her face. She looks a little more like herself, so hopefully that means she slept through the night like I did.

  ‘Peer pressure,’ I reply with a wry smile.

  She shakes her head. ‘I let you out of my sight for five minutes . . .’ then her smile abruptly stops and she looks down at the bed, her hands fiddling with a loose thread of her duvet. ‘I forgot I shouldn’t be smiling,’ she whispers.

  I know that feeling. I remember wondering if I’d ever smile again – maybe you could forget how to smile – but then it just happened, when I least expected it, when I wasn’t thinking about it, and then I felt guilty for doing it.

  ‘Tell me how to make this better for you.’

  ‘You can’t, but I’m glad you came back. I’m grateful. I thought maybe you . . . well, that you wouldn’t.’

  That stings my heart. ‘I wish I’d never made you feel that way. I felt like the universe was punishing me by taking away that brief moment of happiness I’d had, but that doesn’t excuse me not being able to be happy for you. I want us to share everything. I want you to be able to tell me everything.’

  ‘Me too. You’re my sister; it doesn’t matter if we argue because we’ll always be sisters.’

  I kiss the top of her head. ‘Now I’m going to make you and John breakfast, okay?’

  ‘I’m not hungry,’ she protests weakly.

  ‘It’s my turn to look after you,’ I tell her, clambering off the bed. I go downstairs and find John getting up from the sofa where he slept last night. ‘I’m sorry . . .’

  He holds up his hand. ‘She slept, that’s what matters.’

  ‘I’m going to get us some breakfast. Try to get her to have a shower, maybe. I’ll call Joe too and explain she won’t be at work for a couple of days. I’m back now, so I can cover her anyway.’

  ‘Thank you, Rose.’

  ‘It’s the least I can do. I should have called her.’

  ‘You needed the break. Emma told me what happened with Robert. I understand why you needed space; it was a shock. I’m pissed at him. Mind you, I’m pissed at the world right now. Go, I’ll see you in a bit.’

  I return with croissants and make them both coffees. Emma doesn’t want to come downstairs, so I eat on the bed with her. She barely touches it but drinks her coffee. I run her a bath despite her protest that she just wants to go back to sleep. I know that there is nothing I can do for Emma but to be there for her. I understand how helpless she must have felt watching me feeling pain. I need to be strong for her now. I don’t want her to fall into the same darkness that I fell into.

  John keeps an eye on her when she goes into the bathroom, and I head off to the cottage to leave my bags and painting, then go to Mrs Morris’s house to reclaim Taylor. Amanda lets me in as her grandmother is at the café, and Taylor runs up to me when I walk in. I scoop him up and bury my head in his fur for a moment, letting his purr soothe me. ‘I missed you,’ I tell him and he looks at me solemnly as if he understands.

  ‘He missed you too. A few times he seemed to be wandering around looking for you,’ Amanda says, collecting his bits. ‘He’s a real sweetie.’

  ‘Thank you so much for looking after him.’

  ‘It’s fine, I enjoyed it.’ She gives him a stroke before I put him in his carrier. ‘Did you always want to be an artist?’ she asks me shyly.

  ‘I’m not sure you can want to be an artist – you either are or you’re not. I feel like I have always been an artist, but I’m only just discovering exactly what kind I want to be.’

  I feel like I’m now discovering the kind of woman I want to be too.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Being back in my cottage with Taylor is better than I could have imagined. I finally feel as if the place is my own. I stare up at the heart painting in the living room as I sit cross-legged in front of it on the sofa, finishing off a yoghurt. Taylor is perched on my lap, purring and staring at me, so when I’ve finished I offer him the tub to lick, which he does with enthusiasm.

  I promised Heather that she could see what I produced at the retreat in return for her getting me there at such short notice, and I don’t want to chicken out of it, but pressing Send on the photo I’ve taken of it is proving difficult. It feels as if I’m sending off a piece of myself to be judged. But then I’ve never felt like this about any of the work I’ve done before.

  Away from the protected, bubble-like world of the retreat, I was worried I would lose some of my excitement about the piece, but if anything, it stirs up more here. I was so lost for so long; I feel found looking at it. It just remains to be seen what other people feel when they look at it. Taking a deep breath, I hit Send on the email.

  Then the doorbell rings, startling me out of my thoughts. Taylor jumps off my lap and runs towards the door, looking at me as if to ask who is out there. I shake my head at him, having no idea. I put the empty yoghurt pot down and join him by the door. I’m unprepared for visitors – unwashed, and wearing the vest and shorts that I slept in last night, with my hair piled on my head – so I open the door reluctantly. I am surprised and immediately nervous to see Gloria out there, but I swing the door open to her.

  ‘I’m sorry to come by so early, but I’ve just dropped off some flowers at the church and this was on my way home. Mrs Morris said you were back . . .’ She trails off, seemingly as nervous as I am. She looks around the room and I realise that this is the first time she’s ever come around here. Taylor approaches her, sniffing her shoes, and she laughs as I shoo him away.

  ‘Tea?’ I ask, leading her through to the kitchen. ‘Apologies for my state of undress. I slept for hours last night, must have still been shattered from the journey,’ I babble as I put the kettle on.

  She sits down at the kitchen table. ‘I should be apologising. I should have called you first.’

  ‘You never have to call first.’ I lean against the counter as I wait for it to boil. ‘What do you think of the cottage?’ I ask, trying to work out if she’s still angry with me. I desperately want her to forgive me. I have been part of Gloria and Graham’s family for so long – I always felt like they thought of me as a daughter, not just a daughter-in-law. And if Gloria thought of me as a daughter, then how must she have felt to know I had let another man into my heart?

  ‘It’s lovely, Rose. I can see why you fell in love with it,’ she says, giving me a tentative smile.

  I understood why she’d never come round after I moved in. Seeing me in a house without Lucas would have been too hard. Taylor brushes against my legs, so I reach down to stroke him. ‘Gloria, I’m sorry about what happened before I left,’ I begin, as the kettle whistles behind me.

  ‘No,’ she says quickly. ‘It’s me who needs to apologise. ‘I’ll be honest, I haven’t thought about much else apart from our conversation since you left. I knew I had to s
ee you as soon as I could when you got back. I need to explain why I reacted the way I did . . .’

  I bring over two mugs of tea and sit down opposite her. ‘I understand, Gloria, I—’

  She holds up her hand to stop me speaking. ‘Please, let me get this out, Rose.’

  Reluctantly, I gesture for her to continue and take a sip of my tea.

  ‘I have always thought of you as the daughter I never had,’ she tells me, her voice shaking a little. ‘You and Lucas were together for so long, you were part of our family too. Your wedding was one of the happiest days for us. We were so excited for you to build a life together, and maybe have children one day . . .’ She takes a deep breath to compose herself. I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. She nods. ‘I know how much we all lost when Lucas died. We lost a future. I didn’t think our relationship would change, but I realised after you left that it has to change, and I’ve been fighting against that. I wanted to keep you as Lucas’s wife because then it would feel like he was still with us. I hated the thought of you moving on, and when I heard things around town about you and Robert, I wanted to stop it. I wanted to make sure you knew that I wasn’t happy about it; I wanted to make sure your heart stayed with my son, that you kept his rings on, kept coming for Sunday lunch . . . that you would stay his wife, because I knew if those things changed, I’d really have to accept that life was moving on without my son.’ She brushes away a tear that has fallen down her cheek.

  I never knew that crying could be as infectious as yawning, but seeing Gloria cry makes me succumb to it too. It’s as though I’ve found a shortcut to my tear ducts these past two years. I never thought of myself as someone who cries a lot, but I dread to think how many tears I’ve shed since I lost Lucas. ‘It’s okay. But I want you to know that it’s not the ring around my finger that makes you my family. I love you and Graham, you will always be my family,’ I choke out. ‘I never want to lose you guys from my life.’