by Ali Harris
I hold out my hands to stop him. ‘That’s the problem, Adam. I’ve spent the last seven years trying to pretend that I don’t believe you’re going to leave me one day and it is exhausting.’ I think about how hard I tried not to fall in love with him, not to move in with him, not to marry him. Every time I took a step forward I hoped it would wipe out my uncertainty. But it didn’t. It hasn’t. I know he’s a good man and I know he wouldn’t intentionally hurt me. But I also know that every man I’ve ever loved has left me. It’s just a matter of time before he does too. It is as certain as the leaves falling in autumn.
‘I’m not like your dad, Bea,’ he says reproachfully.
‘No,’ I say before another thought occurs to me. ‘But maybe I am.’
I feel the certainty growing in me now as my heart is shrinking, shrivelling like skin in water, and I am pushing away from the edge where I have been standing for so long. It’s not Adam, it’s me.
He moves towards me again. ‘I know you’re scared. I know you find it hard to make decisions, take steps forward but that’s OK. I’m here, Bea, I’m here and I want to make you happy. I know I can make you happy,’ he says determinedly. ‘If you’ll just let me.’
‘No, Adam,’ I say evenly. I feel light, like I’m floating above this moment, the free before the fall. ‘You don’t know what you want. Every single step you’ve taken so far in your life has been determined by what your parents want for you. You’re married to your work, not me. ’ I pause and take a breath as I walk towards the door. With each one I have to force myself not to turn back. I feel like I’m swimming against the current; no matter how fast I paddle I’m being drawn back to the other side. But I know I have to keep going. When I’m finally there I reach out and grasp the handle, like I’m gripping the shore, all the time the waves are trying to pull me back. I need to let go. I need to let him go.
‘This isn’t the life I want, Adam, and do you know what? I don’t think it’s what you want either. If you did, don’t you think you would have worked harder at us?’ I hold my hand up. ‘Don’t answer, I know you won’t admit it because you don’t want to acknowledge that the one decision in your life you actually made yourself was wrong. There was another life out there for you that could have made you happy. Another wife . . .’
Adam shakes his head, tears forming in his eyes. ‘If that’s really what you think, Bea, then you don’t know me at all.’ He leans his hand against the wall and bows his head. His wedding ring glistens back at me and suddenly it looks completely incongruous. Like it was never meant to be there.
‘And it’s why I have to leave,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry, Adam, but I can’t do this any more.’
I don’t look back as I walk out of the door.
I can’t. It will hurt too much.
Chapter 60
As the taxi speeds me back to London I pull my phone out of my bag. There’s only one person I want to talk to. One person whose advice I need in this situation. I scroll through my phonebook until I get to L and press call.
‘Hello, this is Loni Bishop wishing you SUCH JOY this New Year!’
‘Loni?’ I say, my voice cracking.
‘Bea?’ I begin to sob at the sound of her voice. ‘What’s wrong? Is it that Marion woman? What’s she said to upset you this time? I swear if she—’
‘I-it’s not Marion,’ I stammer, ‘it’s me. I – I’ve left Adam.’
‘Oh darling . . . where are you?’
‘In a car on the way back to our flat. I’m going to pack some things and then I wondered if – I wondered if I could . . . come home?’
The flat seems cold and unfamiliar when I walk in. It feels like I’ve been away for months even though we only left it to go to Adam’s parents this morning. Was it really only this morning? I’d called Milly after Loni. She seemed to take the news pretty badly, crying out as if in pain when I told her what I’d done. I knew she loved Adam and me but it had seemed a bit extreme. It took me a moment – and hearing Jay shout ‘Hospital, please!’ to what was obviously a taxi driver – to realise that her reaction was due to the fact that she was having contractions and the baby was coming five weeks early. I’d been horrified that I’d potentially caused her more stress.
‘Please, forget about me and Adam. Focus on you and your baby. We’ll work it out. I’m sure we will . . .’
‘You’d better,’ she’d panted tearfully. ‘Or you’ll have me and this baby to answer to. You guys are our number one choice in godparents . . . I’ll call you.’ And with that, my best friend had gone.
I drop my bag on the floor and slump, unable to carry the weight of my body and what I’ve just done any longer. I feel so distant, so far away from everyone, so alone.
I gaze at the simple hi-tech décor and suddenly feel like I’m in a hotel room. None of this feels familiar. It’s like I’ve had an extended holiday for the past seven years in a place where I never expected to stay for long. It’s beautiful, comfortable, safe, but not mine.
I get up and wander listlessly over to the sideboard in the lounge. On it are two photos in frames; one is of me and Adam, taken at his thirtieth a couple of years ago. He’s wearing a dinner suit and is laughing at something I’ve said. We look so happy. I pick it up and stroke my finger over his face. I feel a stab of shame and remorse so stomach-searingly awful that I crouch down. I miss Adam. I hate being here without him and can’t bear the thought of not seeing him, holding him, talking to him, loving him again. I know that he didn’t mean to hurt me. He did what he’d always done, made decisions that he thought were best for us, because I became incapable of making them a long time ago. I’m just surprised he stayed with me for so long. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper into his picture. ‘I’m so so sorry.’
I go to the bedroom and I throw some clothes, a handful of books and CDs into a medium-sized suitcase. As I easily zip up all my worldly possessions, it occurs to me that I don’t own anything that isn’t transportable. Have I been waiting for this moment all along? Waiting to run away, just like my dad?
I walk back into the lounge and take one last look around. As I do, the fire exit steps appear in my peripheral vision. I know I should just go, but as well as feeling this centrifugal pull to leave, I feel an equal and opposite desire to stay. I turn to the steps. I want to go up there, to have one last look at the view from the roof garden, but if I do I’ll never be brave enough to leave. I can’t go on as I am, charging forward pretending that everything is OK. Ever since I fell over in that church I’ve been desperately trying to carve a new life for myself, and wipe out everything that happened before. My illness, my insecurities, my need to find my father, and my mistakes. But I’m sick of hiding my past, sick of feeling so guilty, sick of believing that everyone I love is going to leave me and sick of not knowing where to go with my life.
I have to face up to what I’ve spent so long running away from.
I have to go home.
Chapter 61
I gaze out of the car window and into the yawning darkness of the Norfolk countryside where I’m sure I can hear the sea calling and the marshes sighing. Cal drove up to London to pick me up, arriving just over two hours after I called Loni and then driving us straight back to Norfolk. I tried to tell him how grateful I was, how he and Loni had always been there for me and how sorry I was for neglecting them. He wouldn’t let me finish. Which was good because I couldn’t, I was crying too hard.
‘My Superhero,’ was all I could manage.
‘You looked after me for my entire childhood, sis,’ he said in a choked voice. ‘I’m just glad to still have you in my life.’ He blinked quickly then he stretched his hand out and squeezed mine. ‘I love you, sis. We all just want you to be happy.’
I look up at the moon that has replaced the sun and think of it endlessly circling this planet like a clock. I have kept the exterior version of my life ticking over for so long, but now I just want to muffle the persistent thudding in my ears is growing louder. Thankfully soon I will be wrapped in the comfort
and security of Loni’s warm, Wifi-less house where the rest of the world will retreat back into the darkness, ticking onwards as my own life slows and slows and slows to a standstill. We are only ten minutes away now and I am feeling a sense of calm acceptance. Norfolk is where I belong, where I’ve always belonged, where life is slow and expectations are low. Where I can walk for miles alone without having to make a single decision. Not like in London where I was constantly trying to prove to everyone including myself that I was someone I’m not, pretending that I could cope just to keep everyone happy. For a while there it had worked; I’d done a good impression of a functioning human being in my smart clothes and heels, with my happy marriage and my dream job. But it was all a façade: it couldn’t last because nothing can last until I face up to my past.
The radio is emitting a low hum, a countdown of the biggest hits of the past year. I absent-mindedly look up the definition of ‘countdown’ on my phone.
Countdown: an arbitrary reliving of past events as time ticks forever onwards.
I’ve given up moving forward; leaving Adam and coming back to Norfolk is proof that the best thing for me is to submerge myself in the past once and for all.
Something clicks in my brain. Ticks. That’s what I have to do.
‘Turn left!’ I cry out suddenly as I spot a signpost. The clock is ticking urgently.
‘What? Why?’ Cal says, startled.
‘Just do it, please,’ I beg. ‘I need to make a detour, Cal. Now.’
He flicks the indicator and as I hear the tick-tick-ticks inside my head, like my very own countdown, I stare at the road ahead.
The one that is taking me all the way back.
Chapter 62
‘What are we doing here?’ Cal pulls up on the seafront and stares at the pavilion and promenade in front of us, worry etched tellingly on his face.
It’s 9 p.m. and Cromer is eerily quiet; a ghost town after the action and excitement of New Year’s Eve last night, and the annual fireworks that would have taken place earlier this evening. I imagine everyone is at home, recovering from the storm that thrashed the coast last night – not to mention all the celebrations that a brand-new year brings. Strange to think I’m here on the other side of them, the storm, the year. I am walking my own line, as usual. Everything is calm. I am calm.
‘I just want to walk on my own for a bit,’ I say lightly, opening the car door and breathing in the fresh sea air. ‘Is that OK?’
‘I don’t know, Bea,’ Cal says; his face looks tense in the harsh light of the car’s interior. ‘You won’t—’
‘Do anything stupid?’ I shake my head and smile in what I hope is a convincing way. ‘Of course not. I’m not a kid any more, Cal.’
He looks into my face. ‘I’m coming with you.’ He unclips his seat belt and goes to open his door. ‘I don’t want you to be by yourself.’
I put my hand on his arm to stop him. ‘No, please, Cal. This is something I need to do on my own.’
He stares at me for a moment, his bright blue eyes full of fear and uncertainty, and then he looks away and takes his hand off the door handle. ‘OK, you can go on your own but you can’t stop me staying here and watching you from the sea wall, OK?’ He folds his arms determinedly and in that instant I see the serious, determined, responsible and stubborn kid he’s always been.
I nod and then I lean in and quickly kiss him on the cheek before I get out and slam the car door shut behind me.
The wind steals my breath as I leave Cal and make my way to the pier forecourt that has a large compass landscaped into the ground. I shiver and pull my thin city coat around me tightly. Is this the kind of day to put ghosts to rest or to unleash them? I haven’t been here for eight years but at the same time I feel like I was here yesterday. I can hear echoes of my past whistling in my ears and I can see shadowy images of me and Kieran everywhere I look. For the first time in years I allow them to flood my mind instead of trying to drown them out. I allow myself to think of how Kieran came to my wedding, and to dare to wonder what might have happened if I hadn’t married Adam that day. Would I have dealt with everything that had stopped me from being able to let go and be happy? Would Kieran and I have talked, put the past to rest and then walked away from each other again? Or is there more to it? Did I turn away from my destiny, that day? Or did I make the right choice . . .
I turn, half expecting to see one of them approaching. But I am alone.
I stand in the middle of the compass with my shoulders hunched and my hands dug deep into my pockets. The compass feels like a symbol of where I am in my life right now, and of how indecisive and directionless I’ve been for so long.
I wander over to the flint wall and have to steady myself as I sit on it because the wind is blowing with such force. I pull my hood up and look at the side of the pier that Elliot jumped from on that fateful night. Then I look down at the beach and feel giddy and sick when I remember how I sat there, wrapped in a tinfoil cloak, shivering, sobbing as the paramedics ran their tests on Kieran and me. He was in shock. They’d done crazy things like this before and had always survived. He and Elliot always survived, he said. He was wrong.
It was my fault. It was all my fault.
I step tentatively onto the pier now. I’m afraid the boards beneath my feet are going to give way and this time I will be plunged into the icy depths, not by choice, not through daring, but because I deserve it.
Looking round I see the silhouette of Cal leaning against the sea wall. One hand is raised over his eyes as if he is looking out to sea. But I know he’s just looking for me. Looking out for me, as always. He was there that night too – a student paramedic working with the Ambulance Trust. I was amazed as I watched him spring into action when they found Kieran and me huddled with Elliot’s body. Trying to save a life, not throw it away.
I cling to the rails, gripping so hard that my knuckles go white, and as I gaze down into the swirling, icy froth I think of the recklessness, the pure selfishness and stupidity that made me clamber up onto the side that night, feeling like I was invincible. That I was a survivor. I wasn’t drunk, it was worse than that. I was completely deluded; blinded by what I thought was love, but was actually self-destruction. Only once Kieran had left did I realise how close I’d come to losing everything. It made me lose faith in myself completely.
And now, being back here eight years on, with my brother watching me carefully and Loni waiting for me to come home, I realise I’ve never been alone. I’ve always had people who loved me, who would never ever leave me. Loni, who made it her mission to nurture my happiness and help me deal with each day: giving me the garden to look after, filling my days with yoga, running, meditation – and the house with life, love and laughter, and then using what she’d learned to forge a whole new career for herself. Cal, ever the paramedic, always looking out for me and making sure I didn’t have to deal with anything that might tip me over the edge.
Then there’s Milly, who’s never left my side, even when I dropped out of school, coming over every day after school when I was lying on the sofa to tell me what had gone on. Even when she went away to university, she would write me endless letters, telling me how much fun we’d have together once she’d graduated. Then when it was clear Kieran was never coming back, she forced me into the glare of life by moving me to London, but always kept me safe, making decisions for me, encouraging me to start temping, being gentle when she needed to, forceful when necessary.
And finally there’s Adam. I wish I could turn back time and tell him I was wrong. He did fix me, he saved me. I look at Cal who is still gazing anxiously in my direction, poised as if ready to spring into action at any moment. I want to call out and tell him that he needn’t worry because I don’t want to jump any more. I’m not the same girl. I crossed that line a long time ago, chose a different path. The right path. All I have to do now is get back on it.
I look down at my hands gripping the rails of the pier and realise just how much I have changed. My lif
e is no longer determined by the list of people who have left me, but by the ones who have stayed. It has been for a long time. I just didn’t see it. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out. There are twenty texts, all from Adam. Each one says the same thing.
I love you Bea and I‘m never going to leave you. x
I raise the phone, nuzzling it as if it is his cheek, tears staining the screen. When I think what I have put him through over the years we’ve been together and yet he’s never lost faith in me, or us. I look at my engagement ring and my wedding ring. They are shining brightly in the darkness, auras of Adam’s love and protection. He’s always known that I am prone to emotional instability, that I find it hard to cope with life, that I push away happiness because I don’t feel I deserve it. It’s why he never took no for an answer every time he proposed. It’s why he organised the wedding because he knew I couldn’t cope with the enormity of it. It’s why he arranged for James to contact me. He believes in me so he makes decisions for me when he knows I’m too scared to take a risk. It’s probably why he didn’t tell me about New York. He isn’t a control freak; he keeps me moored, bobbing on the waves, whilst trying to steer me towards a happy future. Our future.
I wish I’d told him – and Loni and Cal and Milly – what had really happened that night but I was too ashamed. I jumped before Elliot, not because I was reckless, or depressed, but because I wanted to prove that I could. It was a stupid snap decision. The wrong decision. I wish I’d trusted them all more. They would have understood. Adam would have told me it was OK, he would have pulled me out of the murky depths of my guilt and made me see that Elliot’s death was a tragic accident. I feel like I can hear him whispering to me on each whip of the wind that it’s all right, it wasn’t my fault.
Suddenly Kieran’s voice comes into my head, a déjà vu moment, like an echo of a time before, or a life not lived.