by Julia Wild
In response, she nodded.
‘I thought – thought it was all your fault. I blamed you and thought I was blameless. I wasn’t.’ Her words were barely audible. She grabbed a tissue to wipe her face and blow her nose. ‘I wasn’t blameless. I let myself be manipulated by Rufus.’
‘What Rufus did changed our lives, Izzie. He kept those letters because he wanted you for himself, not just to work for him, but to be his wife,’ Justin said.
‘That’s why he did it.’ She shook her head, still struggling to process the whole debacle. ‘That’s what he said in his letter.’
He looked pale, angry and confused. ‘I thought you’d been dazzled into falling in love with your famous boss and sacked me off.’
‘No, Justin. I was in so much pain because I thought you had moved on, got involved with one or another of your glamorous models. There seemed to be photographs of you with them everywhere I looked.’ She dashed tears from her eyes. ‘I’d told Rufus about you, of course, and thinking back, he listened, but didn’t comment much. He obviously took a lot more notice than he seemed to. And you’re right, Justin, I was dazzled, but it was the timing.’
Justin raked his fingers back through his hair. ‘I need to go in a minute, Izzie, the others are back.’ He glanced away, out through the windscreen of his camper van. ‘We need to go through today’s shots.’
‘I just – I need you to know I would never have hurt you that way, Justin. If I’d known, I would never have ignored you.’
He nodded and that warmth Izzie had always loved shone briefly in his green eyes, then flickered away. ‘It didn’t feel right at the time.’ He blew out. ‘And I guess I was too distracted by beckoning success to do more about it.’
She wiped the hot wet tears from her cheeks and whispered, ‘I’m just so sorry.’ As she spoke, she was shocked to see from Justin’s expression that he was struggling to control his own emotions: his shadowed jaw was tense and she couldn’t be sure but she thought there might be a tear shining in his eyes, too.
His voice was huskier than usual when he spoke. ‘I know.’ The sound of his co-workers entering the camper van signalled the end of their exchange. ‘Izzie. Keep in touch?’
‘I will. I’ve some photos to send you – I’ll do it soon.’
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘I’ll look forward to that. Bye for now, Izzie, love.’
The connection cut, Izzie hugged herself again, wishing that she could feel Justin’s arms around her, like when they’d burrowed into the sand dunes at Starr Gate for the day all those years ago, their picnic lunch in her rucksack along with her sketch pad and towel. They’d revelled in holding one another tightly whilst they laughed and kissed. They’d thought there was all the time in the world, thought that they’d always be together.
Instead, their promise to one another had been broken, their bond destroyed by someone she’d trusted completely.
She sat there for long moments looking at her blank phone screen, and was startled back to life by the buzz of a message arriving.
Sadly, we can’t do anything about what’s already done, Izzie. Don’t forget to send your photos to me? Speak soon, keep in touch, love Justin. X
Smiling, she ran her fingers over his words. She’d heard her nan say something very similar when things went wrong. Don’t cry over spilt milk…
Blowing out and standing up, she went and washed her face with cold water, brushed her teeth and then sent him several of the latest photos she’d taken with her work pals during one of their lively lunch breaks.
And for good measure, she wandered out into the garden and took a selfie of herself with her thumb up. She sent it off to Justin, realising too late that she had absolutely no make-up on and the selfie showed her eyes still swollen from her crying jag. She sent a hasty message to follow the photo up.
Without any adornment! Love from Izzie.
She put a row of kisses and a smiley wink face emoji.
Justin had sent a picture of himself and his work colleagues – they were all windblown and smiling, leaning against the outside of the camper van, waving towards the phone’s camera. The message was:
Everyone says hi xxx
* * *
NB All of us also without any adornment.
She laughed, felt better.
She thought that she’d search out her notebook and carry on writing down how she felt about what had happened – much in the same way that Nan had. Somehow, just thinking about doing that made her feel better. She now understood fully why Nan kept the record of her emotions and events in her homemade notebook.
One of the first additions she wrote in her notebook were the words Justin said when she’d asked him if he’d write to her, which only now made sense: ‘I wrote so many times.’
Something else made sense too. Kay had been slow to warm to Izzie at first when they’d met up again, despite their firm friendship in the past; if she’d been the one to tell Justin about Izzie and Rufus and had seen his reaction … that would explain it.
As Molly had done, Izzie wrote an entry in her own notebook in the form of a letter to Justin; she would show it to him if things worked out the way she was now certain she wanted them to.
Dear Justin,
* * *
It didn’t seem right to tell you this in a text message, and I would love to be able to tell you this face-to-face but as that isn’t possible, writing it in a letter seems like the second-best thing to do.
* * *
Besides the letters I never received, Rufus also admitted to taking my mobile phone, said he monitored the messages you sent then eventually removed the battery. He bought me a new one, saying it was a new phone for my new job.
* * *
I should have asked more questions at the time; I should have tried harder to get in touch with you. Your last letter was filled with such raw pain; it mirrored how I felt after waiting all day, having no idea you’d written to change our plans.
* * *
I know it sounds like I’m being dramatic, but I felt like a jilted bride in my new dress, complete with a picnic and a bottle of bubbly.
* * *
By the end of the day, I just felt like a fool. I can honestly say I couldn’t deal with the agony.
* * *
Instead, I shut down all my feelings for you and ran away; I accepted the road out of the pain that Rufus offered.
* * *
You asked me if I loved Rufus. I did. But it was a different kind of love to what we had. I have only realised that in hindsight.
* * *
I have realised too that I love you. I always have and I’m sure I always will.
* * *
Izzie x.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Izzie
West Hampstead, March 9, 2018
‘Yes, I’m happy with that completion date,’ she had assured her local solicitor on the sale of her West Hampstead home, ‘6th of April is perfect.’
Izzie was certain this was what she wanted. The emotional whirlpool caused by Rufus hiding Justin’s letters was beginning to settle, but it had the effect of springing her into action. The first step had been to sell the house. Luckily, she had an eager buyer. Her neighbour, Vinnie, a retired, very successful actor, loved the area and had always preferred Izzie’s house because the garden was bigger. For years, he had asked Rufus and Izzie to give him first refusal if they sold and he was delighted to accept when Izzie approached him, happy to have all the furnishings too – as Izzie had no need for any.
Now she knew what she wanted. Who she wanted. Without any doubt. She was going to reach out and attempt to make it happen – any way she could.
At the same time, she intended to finally finish putting her own world to rights.
Blackpool, Friday April 6, 2018
She wanted to have that day – the day that had been robbed from herself and Justin through Rufus’s deception. She’d been doing her best to set it up without him knowing. Iz
zie got a little thrill because she had deliberately led him to believe she was still in London, their exchange of messages indicated that she’d travel to Blackpool at the end of the following week for their first meet up since his return from working on location in New Zealand.
Justin’s mum, Linda had helped and was sworn to secrecy; she had established for Izzie that Justin would be working away from home for the entire week until around midday…
Unloading all she needed from the cab, she entered the code into the concealed key safe, let herself into his house, propped the door open with her picnic hamper, bulging wheelie suitcase, rucksack, rug - and then returned the key to its safe.
Wasting no time, she unloaded her hamper of food, glasses and plates onto the table, then grabbing the picnic rug, unfolded it, raised it up and let it billow and open, settling on the wooden floor. Then, with her focus on getting everything else ready, she emptied the bag of ice into the cooler, enjoyed the sound of it rattling as she pushed in the bottle of bubbly.
‘He’ll think I’m crazy…’ She half-laughed, nervousness mingling with excitement, carried on setting out the spread; the delicious finger sandwiches, tiny scones, grapes, dips and breadsticks; everything and more she had taken to the beach last time. In addition, because this time was indoors, she arranged several sets of fairy lights artfully around the table, draped homemade bunting bearing pictures of the sea and sand between Justin’s photographic artwork.
She stood up a home-made card on the table in the middle of all their favourite snacks.
It said, Happy 23rd Birthday, Izzie. Yes, it was six years and seven months late, it was inside rather than outside – still too cold outside for a beach picnic – but the way she saw it, that was no reason to wait any longer.
As a finishing touch, she set the soundtrack of gentle waves breaking on the shore, the hypnotic sound of the shifting water was layered with the call of gulls, the subtle shift of pebbles scuttering against the sea wall.
She glanced at the clock, she had just a half hour left to get ready; grabbing her change of clothes Izzie hurried up to the bathroom.
The yellow sundress she’d made years ago had never been worn again, but was screwed up and shoved in the deepest eave in her attic bedroom. Izzie was thrilled when after a wash and good press and with a bit of wriggling to accommodate her curves, it looked pretty good. She shivered, it really wasn’t warm enough for this, but, what the heck…
The top button pulled a bit tight, kept popping open when she breathed. ‘Oh well,’ she grabbed her makeup and put a couple of coats of mascara on, then teased her hair into a top knot, let curling tendrils frame her face, hoop earrings glinting in place.
Her breath literally caught in her throat when she heard the front door open. ‘Eek,’ she whispered to herself, ‘you’re early…’
Hurriedly, she hooked on her flip flops and moved to the top of the stairs.
Luckily, when she glanced down the stairs, the front door was propped open with an equipment case and no sign of Justin…He must be unloading his gear. She dashed downstairs and was suddenly gripped by intense panic; almost gratefully, she sank to the rug, closed her eyes, made herself take some deep breaths. Her pulses pounded so loudly in her ears that she didn’t hear the front door close.
‘Izzie? What the – what?’
Slowly, she opened her eyes to see Justin’s half puzzled, half amused expression as he pushed his fingers back through his hair and looked around the room, the room she had transformed into a magical pop-up beach and picnic area.
‘Hi.’ The word squeezed out past her nerves. Oh, God, why was she putting herself through this? It had seemed like such a good idea.
‘This looks – amazing.’ His gaze stayed for a long moment on the birthday card on the table and its message. ‘But it’s not till August.’
‘I want that day back. I don’t want to wait.’ Her pulse banged so loudly, she thought she’d explode, her palms were sweating and her mouth was suddenly, completely dry.
He sank down onto the rug beside her and took hold of her hands.
‘You think I’m crazy don’t you, Justin?’
‘Yes. And I love it. Happy birthday.’
Izzie wound her arms around his neck and squeezed him tight, crushing her face into his neck. ‘It’s so good to see you’. Her fingers spread over his firm, strong shoulders, the fabric of his jacket shifting beneath her touch.
‘How long are you up north for?’ His warm palms felt so good against the cool skin of her upper arms.
‘For good.’ She watched his reaction, terrified because she had promised herself to be completely truthful, not waste any more time, whatever the outcome. ‘I’ve sold the West Hampstead house, I’m back here now. I want to be here, in Blackpool. By the sea. With you. I’ve realised it’s where I belong.’
‘Seriously?’
She nodded. ‘I realised too that I was always going to feel aggrieved – unless I took my day back. Our day back, Justin. When we were going to make all our plans.’
He studied her for a moment as though considering her words, and whilst he did, her mouth went completely dry again, a cold sweat broke on her whole body.
‘If you don’t feel the same, just – just be honest?’
Although if he didn’t feel the same, she thought she might well pass out completely right here on the picnic rug.
He took a deep breath, rubbed his jaw between finger and thumb. ‘I wrote you a letter while I was away, because you asked me to, but that’s when I knew I needed to give it to you in person.’
‘You did? Will you – will you read it to me?’
‘Shall we open the bubbly, then I’ll nip up and get it from my desk.’
Just minutes later, Justin had retrieved the letter from his study and they sat facing one another on the thick picnic rug, propped up against a bank of cushions, glasses refilled to the brim.
‘You really going to make me do this?’ His expression was filled with fun, like he really didn’t mind, but was still mildly embarrassed.
She nodded, leaned in and traced her fingertip down his cheek. ‘Yes.’
He blew out slowly as though steadying his nerve, took a swallow of bubbly and then set his glass down.
My dearest, funny, beautiful Izzie,
* * *
I am writing this because you asked me to write and I need to express something and admit to something; I’ve never done this before, so it may not be beautiful.
* * *
I love that you shared Molly’s notebook with me, something so private and personal about the grandparents you loved and admired so deeply.
* * *
I feel free just being with you. I felt that way when we were lovers in the past, too.
* * *
Now, here’s the truth: I do want you – any way you’ll have me.
* * *
You make me happy.
* * *
We enjoy one another’s company so much and I want it to carry on. I want you as more than a friend if you’ll have me. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted any woman.
* * *
Would you consider travelling with me sometimes? I am thinking I would like to spend time at home with you, too. That’s a weird feeling because I have never felt that before. Maybe we could do both? We can keep our own homes – or share – I do not care.
* * *
This is the closest I’ve come to commitment since the time we should have got together and I know it’s what I want. But only if you do too.
* * *
I need to admit that soon after I wrote asking if we could change our plans, I had regrets. Huge regrets. When I heard you’d married Rufus, I was devastated. I was way too emotionally depleted to look for any answers and so I worked and didn’t come up for air for a very long time.
* * *
I love you, Izzie. Forever and always, I love you as my friend, my lover, and hopefully, one day, my wife, if we both think it’s a good ide
a.
* * *
All my love,
* * *
Justin x.
‘Oh’, a soft squeak left her, she reached out and wrapped both arms around him and kissed him through her hot tears. She thought she would burst with happiness when Justin held her just as tightly.
‘Thank you.’ A letter could mean so much, hold so much promise. But that he had chosen to keep it and give it to her in person meant everything to her. It was almost as crazy as her determination to claw back this special day.
‘There’s something else.’ Justin grimaced, ‘I’ll admit this had to be rescued, I lobbed it out of my bedroom window in a rage more than once, kicked it under the car wheels, but it kept turning up. I think maybe this is a good time to finally give it to you.’
She frowned, couldn’t think exactly what he could be retrieving from his jacket pocket; ‘In the end, I stashed it away with my passport.’ He picked up her hand so her palm was open and dropped the delicate gold ring, complete with a small, rough, honey coloured gemstone in its filigree mount onto her palm. ‘It’s Maltese calcite.’
‘You – you bought this for me… In Malta?’