by Ali Harris
‘I thought we could walk along Blakeney Point, for old times’ sake.’
We used to go there a lot. Just us, no Elliot, no collection of crazy friends. We’d lie amongst the grasses, Kieran reading poetry to me, telling me about his awful childhood in care and how he had realised at a young age that, with his background, books were his only passport to a better life.
‘Do you remember the twilight date we went on?’ I say with a smile. ‘You “borrowed”’ – I make inverted commas with my fingers – ‘a boat from Morston Quay and took me to see the seals.’
‘Oh God I did, didn’t I? I got in so much shit for that. Another part-time job I didn’t last a week at!’ Kieran throws his head back and laughs and I join him. I remember how much I loved his don’t-give-a-shit attitude. It made me realise I’d always cared about everything far too much. Especially since Dad left. I was sick and tired of thinking so much, worrying about everything, wishing, wondering . . . Kieran didn’t think, he just did. I remember now how he broke into the beach hut we’d spent weeks pretending we owned. The night we had in there was one of the most romantic and magical experiences I’d ever had. He didn’t wait for life to happen to him, he made my life come alive and I loved it. I love . . . loved him. Past tense.
‘So, er, tell me about the flower shop,’ he says to change the subject. I hate how suddenly it sounds more like a lowly part-time job than the start of a new life.
‘It’s great. But it’s not all I’m doing,’ I add defensively. ‘I plan to go back to university to finish my degree, too.’ For some reason I care what he thinks of me now. I feel like such a failure. I don’t want him to think that way too.
‘You didn’t graduate?’ he says, his voice full of surprise as he stares at the country road unfolding before us.
‘I never went back after that summer,’ I say quietly. ‘I missed my final year. I just couldn’t bring myself to go back after . . .’ My sentence trails off and I look at Kieran. He’s biting his lip as if he has something he needs to say. God, those lips. I remember now how, even in profile, I always found him hypnotic.
I wish I could tell him that my life ended when he left me. And then ended again when he came back on my wedding day. But I know how unfair that would be. None of this is his fault. I remember now how impossible it was to get mad at him or Elliot. They used to just smile languidly, their identically long eyelashes weighing down their eyelids until anyone’s frustration at them subsided. I was completely under their spell.
We arrive at blustery Blakeney Point, a national nature reserve which is a spit of shingle and sand dunes, but also salt marshes, mudflats and farmlands, and home to colonies of harbour and grey seals that tourists come to see. We park up the van and walk past the distinctive blue visitor centre with the curved roof, along the north-facing sea point. It’s unusually peaceful here today. The wind has picked up, but the sun is still burning brightly in the sky. I become aware not just of Kieran’s presence, but the prescience of our being here together, by this sea, today. The eighth anniversary of Elliot’s death. We walk along the shingle, and I find myself silently naming the wildflowers I spot on the dunes, just to calm my nerves. Sea campion, glasswort, yellow-horned poppies. All the flora my dad had pointed out to me as a kid.
‘Why did you contact me, Kieran?’ I say quietly when I run out of plants to spot. He doesn’t answer. I try again. ‘And more importantly, why did you come to my wedding?’
He stops and turns to face me. ‘My ship was just passing, I guess.’
I hit him on the chest with sudden, unexpected furious indignation. ‘Seriously? That’s the best you’ve got? You were PASSING!’ My hand burns and I try to cover up the fact that my face is doing the same by turning away. ‘You pass by a pub and pop in, Kieran, you pass by a beach and decide to go for a surf, you don’t pass by a church and decide to go in and watch a wedding!’
‘Better late than never, though, right?’ he says hopefully and I give a short, sharp, surprising burst of laughter before hitting him again. He grins and holds my wrists against his chest. ‘OK, OK!’ he says. ‘You got me.’ He takes a deep breath and I swallow. I feel a sense of both panic and relief as I feel his heart beating against my hand. I can’t breathe. Not just because I’m about to get some answers, but because I’m so close to him.
‘I – I saw on Facebook that you were getting married . . .’
‘How?’ I shoot back, not looking up. ‘We’re not friends on there.’
‘You don’t have your privacy settings set up,’ he says, ‘so I could always see your status updates. You’re not exactly a shy social networker, are you, Bea?’
I glance through my eyelashes in embarrassment and step away from him, thinking of the hundreds of status updates and photos I’ve posted over the years. Has he seen them all? Then I ask myself a deeper question – did I purposely not set my privacy settings because deep down, I hoped he would see them?
‘Anyway, I looked you up a lot, just to see how you were . . . if you were still the same or if, you know, you’d settled down.’
‘And there I was thinking you’d forgotten all about me,’ I say, bending down and plucking some sea-aster out of the grass and twirling it between my thumb and forefinger.
‘How could I possibly do that, Bea?’ Kieran murmurs. There is a pause. A beat. A look of understanding between us. ‘What did you do?’ he adds. ‘After I’d gone?’
‘Do you really want to know?’ I say and he nods. I stop mid-step, blinking up at the blue sky as a load of people pass by us. I wait until they’ve gone before I speak.
‘I waited, OK?’ I reply, turning to face him. He rubs the back of his neck with one hand and I see a sad mist has formed in his eyes. ‘For a really, really long time,’ I continue. ‘You said you’d be back after a year.’
Kieran sits down in the grass, resting his wrist on his knees as he gazes out to sea. ‘I needed more time. I was a mess after the funeral.’ He glances at me with such sorrow that I sit down beside him and take his hand.
‘This time of year is always hard.’ I look at Kieran anxiously. ‘You must miss Elliot so much.’ He hides his face with his arm then, before swiping a hand across his forehead.
‘I’m sorry.’ I instinctively put my arm around Kieran and then we fall into each other’s embrace and it’s like the years have melted away. Being held by him is exactly as I remember. It’s like we have one heartbeat. ‘I’m so sorry . . .’
‘I struggled too, you know,’ he says at last. ‘I realise now that running away wasn’t the right thing to do. I tried to justify my actions. I was so confused. I missed you so much, but I knew that us being together would have been much worse than us being apart. I was determined to do my own thing, to make up for what happened . . .’ We look at each other and I feel like my heart is breaking. After all this time, it is still so raw. ‘I just wanted to make up for what was lost by living this amazing adventurous life. We’d made a promise after all . . .’ He glances down at his ring – the ring he said he’d wear until he came back. And he did. I blink and look away.
‘I see you don’t wear yours any more,’ Kieran says softly.
‘You may have noticed that me and rings don’t seem to get on,’ I retort wryly.
‘I’ve never taken mine off,’ he says poignantly.
‘I wore it for an entire year,’ I say. ‘You can’t blame me for giving up . . . after eight years . . .’
He holds his hands up. ‘I know, I know. I don’t want to make excuses. I wanted to come back, so many times, you have to know that . . . but joining the Navy, it felt right. It was what I had to do.’
I feel ashamed then, for being petulant about him not coming back when he was doing such a positive thing. ‘I still can’t believe you’re in the Navy,’ I say, forcing myself out of the past and back into the present. ‘Isn’t it dangerous? Don’t you ever get scared?’
He nods. ‘Sometimes. But I like fear, remember?’ He smiles. ‘And this kind is healthy,
it’s for the good. Besides, being scared reminds me I’m alive. I mean, what is a life without risks, eh? Or am I talking to the wrong person about that?’
‘You don’t have to tell me about taking risks! It was a pretty big risk running out on my wedding, wouldn’t you say?’ I stand up and begin to walk, stuffing my hands in my pockets.
‘Not if you knew it wasn’t right,’ Kieran calls matter-of-factly. I turn around and glare at him as he walks towards me, each crunch of shingle bringing him closer. ‘What about the rest of your life from now on? You’ve never really been one to live dangerously, have you? I mean, when was the last time you did something to push yourself . . .’ He brushes his hand over his head and raises an eyebrow.
‘When I left my temp job!’ I say quickly.
‘Ooh, crazy,’ he teases. And suddenly I snap.
‘Go on, mock me, go right ahead! But why do you think I’m so careful, huh? I spent a summer not caring about anything apart from you. I took a risk on you and then I took another stupid, irresponsible risk that night on the pier . . .’
‘Bea, come on, you’re not still blaming yourself for that, are you?’
‘Of COURSE I am! Your brother died and it was all my fault.’
‘I thought we’d dealt with that!’ Kieran says, reaching for my hand. ‘You couldn’t have stopped him jumping in that night any more than I could have stopped myself falling in love with you!’
I snatch my hand away. ‘Love? Is that what you call it?’ I laugh. ‘Yes, you said you loved me, but you also told me you’d be back in a year. What else did you expect me to think other than you couldn’t bear to be near me after what had happened?’
He tries to embrace me but I hold my hands up and shake my head, trying desperately to compose myself.
My hands are trembling, so is my voice. ‘So, you know, maybe you should revise your definition of the word “risk”. Because I’ve just walked away from everything, a whole life I’ve spent seven years building, and I’m sorry if that isn’t exciting or “risky” enough for you but . . . but it happens to be one of the craziest things I’ve ever done!’
He touches my shoulder gently. ‘I’m sorry.’ I try not to notice how gorgeous he looks when he’s apologising. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. I don’t have any right to make a judgement on your decisions. I just hate to think that you didn’t finish your degree because of what happened that summer. You inspired me so much because you always knew exactly what you wanted. You made me feel so sure of everything I did. You knew who you were and where you were going in a way that neither Elliot nor I did. The version of you I saw at the beach after your wedding wasn’t the Bea I remembered. She wasn’t even remotely the same. I guess we’ve both changed though,’ he says softly, his fingers lightly grazing my wrist.
I don’t say anything; I’m too busy fighting back tears.
‘I think it’s time I went home,’ I say at last. ‘Okay,’ he sighs. ‘I’ll take you home.’
I don’t go home though. Kieran convinces me to go for just one drink with him. He always was incredibly persuasive. And then one drink turns into dinner, which turns into an evening drive to Sheringham and a long walk on the beach. After our tense conversation we have relaxed in each other’s company and it is nearly midnight when we pull up in front of Loni’s house. He switches the engine off and I’m about to get out when he grasps my arm. I turn to face him and see him gazing at me intensely; his green eyes are shining in the soft glow of the van’s lights. ‘Please can I see you again, Bea?’ he says. ‘I’ve loved being with you today so much.’
I look away. I’ve spent years dreaming of a moment like this, but now it’s real, I’m terrified of what might happen if I see Kieran again. In theory, this should be it. I have my closure. He’s told me why he didn’t come back, he’s said he never blamed me, and done it in such a way that he might even have finally convinced me. And yet I know I can’t say no to him. Am I being drawn back to him because our twenty-something selves were right? We are meant to be?
‘I’ll call you,’ I say and I turn away from him and open the camper van door. The air is still balmy, despite it being so late. I must be too, to consider seeing him again. I look back at him leaning over the passenger seat, one arm stretched over the steering wheel. I’m trying not to notice how his tan sets off his eyes in the dark, how plump his lips are, how sinewy the muscles on his bare arms. It takes me all my strength to simply smile and turn to get out. But before I can he jumps out of the van and runs around to my door.
I stumble a little in my hurry and he catches me, his arms strong as they slip around my waist. There is a pause, a beat, a spark when it feels like we are being drawn together by a magnetic force. I find myself touching his cheek, I close my eyes and it feels like I’m twenty-two again and I’ve just met him at a beach party and he’s brought me home and I’m standing here, desperate for him to kiss me – but utterly petrified at the same time. I remove my hand quickly as if I’ve been burned and open my eyes in time to see him lower his face to mine but I pull away just before our lips meet.
I’ve waited years for this moment, but suddenly it feels too soon.
I brush past him. He calls out, a hint of desperation in his voice this time. ‘Bea, please, can I see you again soon?’
I turn and smile at him. ‘Goodbye, Kieran.’
He presses his fingers to his lips and then brushes them lightly over mine. ‘It’s not goodbye, Bea. Because that means going away and I promise you, I’m not going anywhere this time . . .’
I walk away backwards, unable to unlock my eyes from his. Then, when there is enough distance between us, I turn and run towards my childhood home, my feet pounding the gravel and an intense burning sensation rippling through my body, feeling more alive than I have for years. I get to the front door and put my key in the lock. As I turn it, I glance round and see him leaning against his camper van, silhouetted by the light of the moon and the stars.
Chapter 36
The light from the computer is casting an eerie blue glow across the room matching the violet hue of dawn. Loni is asleep, or out – I’m not sure which. All I know is the house was dark when I got back and I was relieved. The last thing I needed was the third degree from her. Kieran is my secret for now.
I wasn’t able to sleep. I lay awake for hours; my brain was wired, my heart pounding, my head full of thoughts, reliving the day I’d just had. At 5 a.m. I finally gave up tossing and turning and crept downstairs to make myself a cup of tea, tidy up the bombsite in the kitchen and check my emails on Loni’s computer.
Obviously I’ve found myself looking on Facebook. Again. I’m just about to write a little cryptic status update when I spot a new update from Milly:
Milly Singh has got some BIG news. Huge, in fact.
1 hour ago, New York.
27 likes.
I comment immediately:
Bea Bishop: OK, OK, you can’t post something like that on Facebook and not expect this . . . SKYPE CALL IMMEDIATELY!
Milly Singh: Dialling you now! X
I reread Milly’s status update as I wait for my best friend to appear before me. Has she been promoted? Has she got a new apartment? Is she coming home? The last is wishful thinking. I have been trying not to dwell on how much I miss her. Milly and Jay leaving has felt like the last link to my old life with Adam has been completely severed.
I find myself getting distracted waiting for Milly to call and the unbearably slow Wifi. I stack four old, dirty coffee mugs, turning up my nose as I do so at all the mess whilst also trying not to look at the Post-it notes on Loni’s computer that say ‘Sex for the Over-Sixties – book eleven title?’ And ‘How to Get Old Without Acting It’. She also has her favourite Buddhist life mottoes stuck to the pin board directly behind the screen. ‘To dare is to lose one’s footing. Not to dare is to lose oneself.’ I stare at it for a moment. It seems horribly appropriate given Kieran’s observation on our date yesterday. No, not date. A casual meeting . . . An
yway, whatever it was, he was right. I have been so risk-resistant, so unwilling to do anything remotely daring, to stand on the edge, to risk failure, or worse, falling, that I’ve completely lost sight of who I am and what I really want. I feel like I have sleepwalked through the last eight years, guided with my eyes closed and my instincts switched off by people who were fully engaged with life. First Loni and Cal, then Milly and finally, Adam. I knew it was happening, of course. I welcomed it, in fact. But that doesn’t mean it always felt right.
It took Kieran showing up on my wedding day to make me turn my back on my safe, secure life, my risk-proof future, and find the courage to be myself. To make my own choices.
I smile to myself as I cast my mind back over the last twelve hours. Strangely, seeing Kieran has made me finally make peace with what I did to Adam almost four months ago. Marrying him would only have ended in disaster. I wish I’d seen it before we got to the church, but better late than never, I guess.
A loud ringing emanates from the computer telling me Milly is making contact. I feel nervous as I press accept call. I realise I haven’t spoken to her properly since she moved. Somehow we haven’t yet got in synch with the time difference. Whenever I phone her, she seems to be otherwise engaged and the one time we have talked, it was a three-way conversation with her and Jay – against a backdrop of a dinner party they were throwing for Jay’s new colleagues at their swanky Manhattan loft. As a result, since she’s been gone she hasn’t just felt far away geographically, but emotionally too.
It sounds childish but it’s felt like she’s been keeping her new life a secret from me . . .
I gasp and put my hand over my mouth as a surprising, beautiful image fills my screen. Not of Milly’s face, but her bare belly. She is standing sideways and all I can see is a tiny bump, the merest hint of a protrusion on her slender frame.
‘MILLY!’ I scream, watching my face drop with shock. ‘Oh my GOD! You’re PREGNANT!’ Her grinning face appears now, she’s nodding and I’m crying. I’m just not sure whether it’s happiness for her, or sadness for me. I knew our dream of sharing this next stage of our lives was over when I walked away from Adam. But this is the confirmation of just how different our lives are now.