Hello, Again

by Isabelle Broom

  Finn had disappeared a while ago – presumably to go over his speech – but as she squinted through the assembled crowd of heads, seeking out his thick sweep of golden hair, she caught the eye of an approaching Clara instead and stiffened.

  ‘Hallo, Pepper,’ she said, the timid beginnings of a smile on her face as she made her way over. ‘I hope you are having a good time?’

  ‘Sort of.’ Pepper decided to be honest. ‘I met Finn’s parents.’

  At this, Clara glanced across the room towards where Malcolm and Hanna were still standing, their backs against one of the long tables.

  ‘It is a big deal for them to be here,’ she explained. ‘They are nice people, but . . .’ She shrugged, and Pepper nodded to show she understood.

  ‘Finn told me about his father when we first met – how difficult he is to impress.’

  ‘Ja.’ Clara tossed her ponytail over her shoulder. ‘When he told him about the baby, all he said was “oh”.’

  ‘Just “oh”?’

  Clara rolled her eyes.

  ‘His mother is different – she cannot say enough nice things. I think that she is very happy, you know. But his father . . . He needs more time. He is very conservative, and of course, Finn and I, we are not married.’

  ‘Well, baby news is always quite a lot to take in, whatever the circumstances,’ Pepper said, sounding more defensive than she really felt. ‘What I mean is, it must have come as quite a shock to you, let alone Finn’s parents. It wasn’t as if the two of you were even seeing each other when it happened . . . Were you?’ she added, when Clara did not immediately agree.

  ‘Nein,’ she said firmly, her tone unequivocal. ‘It was stupid, just one night. I hope you don’t think that we––’

  ‘It’s OK, I don’t,’ Pepper said hurriedly. ‘Finn explained it all. I don’t, you know, blame you or anything.’

  ‘Danke.’ Clara regarded her for a moment through flawlessly made-up eyes. ‘You are very understanding, very kind. I am glad that Finn has you in his life now – you are good for him. A good influence,’ she said.

  Pepper felt her cheeks heating up from the compliment.

  ‘Is Otto looking forward to becoming an uncle?’ she asked, guessing that he would soon be referring to himself as one.

  Clara nodded.

  ‘Otto is like my little brother,’ she said, her smile widening as they heard the man in question bellowing something about it being ‘two fucking minutes to go, bitches’.

  ‘He is such a mad baby – being around him is good practice for when I become a mother. We are a family,’ she added. ‘We all care about each other. Finn and I – we will make it work, and he will make it work with you. I don’t want you to worry about anything.’

  Pepper did not know how to answer. Instead, she said teasingly, ‘So, you and Otto never . . . ?’

  Clara clapped her hands as if Pepper had just revealed the punchline to a hilarious joke.

  ‘Mein Gott! Is that what you think? Otto is not in love with me,’ she exclaimed. ‘He loves the bottle, and his friends, and different girls every night of the week.’

  ‘And you?’ Pepper probed. ‘Who do you love?’

  Clara’s hand dropped to her stomach, and she fixed Pepper with a no-nonsense stare.

  ‘This one,’ she said. ‘There is nothing more important now – or ever again for me.’

  There it was. So simple and undeniable.

  The baby was more important than anything or anyone else, than any friendship fractured by complicated feelings. Finn and Clara must have thought they were in control of their situation, that they were good enough friends for one no-strings hook-up to affect them, but it had. They had created a new piece for the puzzle of their lives, one around which all the others must be built, and there was nothing else to do but feel thankful. Happy and grateful that such a beautiful picture would soon begin to take shape for them both.

  ‘I don’t think I have said this yet.’ Pepper offered a smile. ‘But congratulations.’

  ‘Danke.’ Clara’s big brown eyes softened. ‘Ah,’ she said, glancing over Pepper’s shoulder, ‘Ah, look-look – here is Finn for the big Enthüllung.’

  Everyone in the room shuffled forwards and made a semi-circle around their host, their phones poised ready to make videos and take photos. Otto made everyone laugh with a flamboyant shushing, and a photographer who had been hired for the night crouched down on his haunches in front of Finn.

  Pepper felt suddenly apprehensive for him – and for whoever it was whose work was about to be shown. The pressure they must be feeling, what with all the expectation in the room, must be palpable. Even knowing that her portrait of Finn was on one of the walls here made her feel peculiar enough – a severe case of imposter syndrome that had been gurgling away in her stomach all night.

  Someone had passed Finn a microphone, which he held up to his lips now, waiting until the room had fallen silent before beginning to speak.

  ‘Hallo, Freunde,’ he began, his eyes searching until they found Pepper’s.

  ‘I am going to speak in English tonight, because there is something I need someone to hear, and to understand.’

  He smiled then, and Pepper was transported back to those steps in Lisbon, back to that square where they had sheltered from the rain, to the moment she had known that this time, it was different. That he was special.

  ‘The story begins at the start of this summer,’ he said.

  ‘And with a girl I have been waiting my whole life to meet.’

  Chapter 51

  Pepper could not believe he was doing this.

  She wanted to flee, but her legs were fence posts buried deep in concrete. All she could do was stand, rooted to the spot, the air constricting inside her chest as it became clear what Finn was talking about.

  Her.

  ‘I think when it concerns art,’ he said, ‘curation comes not from knowledge, but from instinct. We, all of us, choose based not on what we know, but what we feel.’

  He tapped a hand against his chest.

  ‘All the pieces I have selected for my website’ – Finn smiled as a cheer went up in the room – ‘are there because they made me feel something when I saw them, and because I want to share that feeling.’

  Another cheer.

  ‘So, when I saw this person, this woman . . .’

  His eyes flickered once again to Pepper.

  ‘I felt something right away, in the first moment. We all laugh when someone says they have fallen in love at first sight, but why? We do it with cars, with clothes, with art,’ he went on, gesturing around. ‘So, why not with people?’

  There was a murmur in the audience as people either nodded or shook their heads, and Finn watched on, smiling as he always seemed to, amused at life and its many beguiling twists and turns. He saw so much, Pepper thought – more than she could claim to see. It was why he was so easy to love, because he was so interested.

  ‘I have always been a person who goes after the things that they want,’ he said, this time looking across at his parents. Pepper read nothing but affection on his mother’s face, but his father’s expression was unreadable.

  ‘And I am proud of the things I have achieved – my business here, this website.’

  Yet another cheer went up.

  ‘And now, it would seem, I have something very special coming to me that I did not plan.’

  Finn looked towards Clara, who shifted from one spiky stiletto to the other.

  ‘But that I know I will fall in love with as soon as I see him or her.’

  There was a smattering of laughter as Finn held up two crossed fingers.

  ‘I thought that I had learnt all the lessons I needed,’ he went on. ‘I was arrogant in that way, and I was a fool – a dummkopf. This girl that I met, she has taught me that there is still much to learn, about what is important, about who matters the most, and why sometimes it is better to do what you must instead of what you want. I am a better man because of her,’ h
e said seriously. ‘And tonight, I can launch my website because of her.’

  Now he really had gone too far, Pepper thought, trying to catch Finn’s eye to illustrate how confused she felt. He wasn’t looking at her, though, he had turned and was reaching for the edge of the sheet behind him. There was a small intake of breath as he gathered up the material in one hand, and then a gasp followed by rapturous applause as the cover fell to the floor.

  Pepper did not clap, or move – she simply stared, her mouth falling open and her heart thudding like a trapped bird against her chest.

  This must be some sort of trick, or sorcery, or she must be seeing things. Perhaps this was all a dream and she was still asleep in her cottage back in Aldeburgh? Because what she was looking at couldn’t be true – those could not be her tiles up on the wall. Her collage of Hamburg, of her love story with Finn, all the moments they had shared and the places they had been, of her feelings captured as swirls of colour – a picture not only of time spent, but of wounds healed and lessons learnt.

  Pepper had thought them lost; scorched, cracked and blackened by fire – yet here they were, pristine and perfect, right in front of her eyes.

  ‘Philippa.’ Clara nudged her gently. ‘Go up – Finn is waiting.’

  They were all waiting. Every face in the room turned towards her, each one intrigued and admiring. She had gone from being the awkward girl in the corner to the artist whose work had so captivated them all.

  Pepper took a blundering few steps forwards, her cheeks burning with the red-hot heat of a hundred pairs of eyes. She brought her hands up to cover her face, but a laughing Finn pulled them down again, leading her on reluctant legs towards the pattern of tiles, and throwing his arm around her with pride.

  She blinked as a camera started flashing, trying to shield her eyes only for Finn to lace his fingers through hers, lowering her hand and telling her she must smile.

  ‘This is crazy!’ she said at last, relieved to find herself laughing rather than sobbing. She was so overwhelmed that she could hardly remember any words at all, let alone utter them.

  ‘How did you? How did this happen?’

  Finn chuckled, lifting her chin with a finger and turning her face towards his.

  ‘You really cannot guess?’ he exclaimed, as the photographer moved in for another shot.

  Pepper frowned, still not understanding, then the truth hit her like a great wave, almost knocking her right off her feet.

  There was only one person who could have been behind this – the same person she had to thank for being here in the first place, for meeting Finn, for the fact that those tiles on the wall behind them existed at all.

  ‘Josephine,’ she said. ‘It was Josephine, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Maybe . . .’

  Finn still had his arm around her, and now he moved so he was facing her, so he could look at her properly.

  ‘But how?’ Pepper exclaimed. ‘I didn’t tell anyone about this project. I locked all the tiles in my cabinet, inside my studio – and my studio burnt to the ground.’

  ‘I am sorry.’ For a moment he looked downcast. ‘But now you can build an even better one. I sold all these,’ he added proudly. ‘Five thousand euros is waiting to be transferred to you.’ Pepper shook her head in disbelief.

  ‘They weren’t for sale,’ she said helplessly, and Finn replied with one of his great bellows of mirth. ‘Someone bloody stole them!’

  ‘Not me!’ He held up both hands.

  ‘What if I’d wanted to keep them?’ she went on. ‘I’ve spent the past few weeks mourning the loss of them, and now suddenly, here they are again. Am I supposed to just accept it all?’

  ‘You are not cross?’ For a moment, his face fell. ‘I can return them to you, if that is what you want?’

  Was it what she wanted? Pepper was conflicted, trapped between the opposing towers of shock and pride.

  ‘I can’t believe they sold,’ she said. ‘All that money for something I created.’

  ‘Of course they did.’ Emboldened by the astonishment in her voice, Finn bent down and planted a kiss on the end of her nose. ‘They are beautiful, Pepper – a masterpiece. But you are right,’ he went on. ‘They were not mine to sell. I should not have just assumed.’

  ‘Josephine must have broken in somehow,’ said Pepper, more to herself than him. ‘That wily old fox.’

  ‘I am sure she will explain everything to you herself,’ Finn said. ‘She will be happy that the secret is finally out.’

  ‘What about you?’ she asked. ‘Do you have any more secrets you need to tell me?’

  ‘This was my best one,’ he replied. Then, when Pepper found she could not find any words, he pulled her back into his arms.

  ‘Will you come home with me tonight?’ he asked, his voice muffled by her hair.

  Pepper sighed, unable not to think of Clara, and of the baby.

  ‘Just to talk,’ he said, as if he could see right through into her mind and was reading her thoughts as they unfurled. ‘Bitte.’

  She had made it back into the bubble, thought Pepper. Back where it was safe. And so, she wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezing herself against him until there were no spaces left between them.

  ‘OK,’ she said. ‘On one condition.’

  ‘Name it.’ Finn stepped out of their embrace and reached for her hands, toying her back into the room.

  ‘You tell me who my mystery buyer is.’

  ‘That,’ Finn said, letting go of her hand, ‘is something that you can definitely work out for yourself.’

  Chapter 52

  She knew what would happen if she followed Finn into his bedroom, waiting in the open doorway while he lit candles and closed the blinds. She knew that once she let him pull her down onto the duvet, there would be no going back. The two of them as drawn to the other as they had been right from that first moment.

  He had told her that he loved her at the party, but the tiles she had painted must have told him the same thing weeks ago – he would have known as he unwrapped each one and slotted them together. Now, as they lay together under the covers, Pepper could feel the weight of that sentiment pressing down on them and felt crushed by expectation.

  ‘I have missed you very much,’ he said, his finger tracing a circle on her stomach, across her hips, lower. ‘I thought that you might not come – that you had decided it was all too much. The baby, the distance that we are from each other.’

  He paused to kiss her, first her cheek, then the hollow of her throat.

  ‘I missed you, too,’ she assured him. ‘There was just so much happening at home, the fire – and after Barcelona, I wasn’t sure how I felt, or what was the best thing to do.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘It feels nice to be here,’ she said decidedly. ‘What you did for me tonight. Nobody has ever done anything like that before – I still can’t quite believe it.’

  ‘That is not quite true,’ he tempered. ‘It was more than one person who did it, remember?’

  ‘Well, you both had faith in me.’

  Pepper itched with a need to follow up her words with something self-effacing, about how she wasn’t worthy of such esteem, that her work was average at best – but she stopped herself. She was the only person telling herself this story, over and over, which meant that she was the only person who could bring an end to it all, to that inner insistence that the things she created were not good enough. She had to write herself some new rules and start living by them.

  ‘You are very talented,’ he told her, his nose resting against hers. ‘I have a list as long as Otto’s bar tab of people who want one of your pieces, and who are very willing to pay for them.’

  ‘But I––’ she started to protest, then stopped herself again.

  ‘That is amazing,’ she managed. ‘Thank you – thank you so much, for everything.’

  ‘Do not thank me.’ He smoothed the hair back from her face. ‘It is just good business sense. You are a commodity now – m
y meal ticket.’

  ‘Well then, feel free to feast away!’ she joked, yelping as Finn promptly took her at her word and disappeared beneath the covers.

  ‘Oi!’ she cried, pulling him back up. ‘You promised me talking only.’

  Finn frowned as he peered down at their naked, entwined bodies.

  ‘It is a bit late for that now.’

  ‘I feel bad.’ Pepper sighed.

  ‘Why? Because of Clara?’

  She nodded.

  ‘There is nothing like that going on between us,’ he said, and she could tell he was having to work hard to keep the exasperation from creeping into his voice. ‘That is why it still feels a little bit unfair, you know? Like the right things happening to the wrong people.’

  ‘At the wrong time,’ she finished.

  ‘Maybe there is never a good time for a baby, because nobody is ever really ready to be a parent.’ Finn screwed up his features. ‘This is what everyone tells me – even Mama.’

  ‘I think what they mean to say is that there’s never a bad time,’ she chided, kissing his downturned mouth. ‘You are going to love this baby and be an incredible father.’

  He stared at her for a moment, searching her eyes, checking that what she was telling him was true, and that there was no cause to worry.

  ‘If you say it, then I will believe it.’

  ‘I can’t tell you that it will be easy,’ she said. ‘There will be some very difficult days and lots of complicated feelings, but you will be OK. You are the most capable and confident man I have ever met, and I know you said in your speech earlier that I had taught you things, but the truth is, I have learnt so much more from you. You have shown me that it’s important to be brave, and to fight your own corner. That there is little point holding on to anything that makes you unhappy, when it is often such a small part of who you are, and what your life is all about.’

  ‘I see you,’ he said. ‘There is a sparkle there.’ He touched her cheek. ‘That was not there before – or maybe it was, but you kept it hidden, buried underneath all those layers of . . . what? Sadness? Guilt?’