‘Then yes, I will. Thank you.’ Linking her arms around his neck, she beams. ‘This feels like a new beginning.’
‘They’re the best kind,’ Jake says, grinning as he tumbles her onto the pillows.
Her expression turning serious, she stares up at him. Looks at her palette charm. Runs the fingers of her right hand across all the charms. ‘You really get me,’ she whispers, her tone full of wonder. More bravely, she asks, ‘Do … do you love me, Jake Harding?’
He stares at her in astonishment. ‘Absolutely, Jones.’ Stroking her hair away from her pink cheeks, he goes on, ‘But, you know, not for that long. Only since you were about eleven. I remember thinking you looked like an angel on the day we met. And then I saw the magical doors and your wonderland under the bed and … that was it, I was a goner, even though I was too young to really know what that kind of love was.’
Her grey eyes are wide. ‘I love you too,’ she replies shyly.
Jake’s chest fills with a warm glow as he squeezes her tight. Now he’s heard those words, he doesn’t need to hear anything else.
‘That’s why I didn’t want to show you the mermaid picture,’ she confesses, clutching his shoulders.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I thought you’d know, that you’d be able to tell from looking at it.’
‘Tell what?’
Her grey petal irises are dark, but clear. ‘That I’m completely in love with you. I think it started that night I rescued you from the sea. I just didn’t know it at the time.’
Leila
February 2015
The Valentine’s Charm
‘It’s our first Valentine’s Day together next week,’ I murmur to Jake, lifting my head from his broad chest in the early morning sunlight, ‘and our seven-month anniversary. Shall we do something special?’
‘More special than you finally making our relationship Facebook official?’ he teases, sliding from under me and out of bed. Padding over to the drawer I’ve set aside for him in my dresser, he pulls out some boxers and a black T-shirt and picks his jeans up off the floor where they were dropped last night.
‘Jake, I’m serious.’
‘Yeah, course we can. Let’s go for dinner or a drive. But whatever we do, every day is special with you.’
Sticking two fingers in my mouth, I make gagging noises. ‘You’re so soppy.’
‘Would you have me any other way?’ Turning, he raises one eyebrow.
I drop my hand. ‘No.’ Blinking, I drink in his toned, naked body, and smile broadly. I’ll never get tired of looking at him and some days I kick myself for wasting so many years. After so long thinking he was just a friend and that I didn’t fancy him, it feels all too natural to spend as many nights as possible in bed with him. It’s all we seem to do now: get naked, have sex, spend hours in bed, go to work, eat, and then start all over again. Although, we talk too, long into the night, and laugh together a lot. When I sold all five of my mythical creature paintings, he bought me a bottle of vintage champagne and told me how proud he was of me. Then he arranged a celebration dinner with my friends and family, and all of us spent the night chatting and toasting each other. At one point, Eloise leaned over to me, whispering in my ear, ‘Aww, you guys are adorable. I love the way you look at each other.’
I’ve never known anything like it. I just love being with him. It’s so easy, even when we disagree about something. The last seven months have been a revelation, and despite thinking I knew him when we got together, he still surprises me.
Over the past few months I’ve learnt he always sleeps on the left side of the bed, but likes to sprawl his leg over me to be close; his favourite colour is sky blue; he prefers the DC universe to the Marvel one; he loves both rom-coms and action films; his favourite time is at sunrise when the promise of a new day is just beginning; he sings in the shower, though he denies it; he reads widely, in no preferred genre; snorts with laughter at Joe Lycett, and hugs me every night we’re together. He buys me flowers or makes me a tea when I’m feeling down, and he understands when I say I don’t want to talk about what happened when I was thirteen, every time he prods me about it.
What took me so long to realise how amazing he is? He deserves every single bit of happiness I can bring to his life. Because of that, I’m hoping he’ll like the Valentine’s gift I’m creating for him. I smile to myself.
‘Earth to Leila.’ He waves a hand in front of my face and plants a kiss on the end of my nose. ‘I don’t know what you’re smiling about, but I’ve got to grab a shower. If I don’t get on the road soon, I won’t make it to my first lecture. Thank God it’s a 10am start.’
He drives to Plymouth every week for his occupational therapy postgrad degree course, lodging with a family near campus for three days before coming back to me again. It’s not too bad given it’s only for a year and we’re already more than halfway through it. It worried me at first, with my abandonment issues, but when he first started staying away, he’d call me every night to put my mind at rest. After a while I told him he could just message instead, that I was okay. I guess I’m finally learning to work through my issues instead of avoiding them.
‘Can’t you wait ten more minutes? Come back to bed.’ Fluttering my eyelashes, I drop the quilt around my waist and fluff my long hair down over my boobs. I’m body-confident in a way I never have been before.
His eyes heat up, but he steps back. ‘Stop that! I can’t be late. You need to get up soon too. You can’t be late either.’
‘Okay, Jake.’ I haven’t told him I’ve got the day off to paint. I’m still working at the gallery, but Edwin has stepped back a bit and semi-retired, often leaving me in charge. I’m thoroughly enjoying it, and while I haven’t made enough money from my paintings yet to be able to go part-time in the day job – which is the aim eventually – I’m not in a rush to do that right now. I’ve managed to convince my boss to update the decor and install air-con, and already business has picked up.
Jake grabs his bag from the corner. ‘I’ll get dressed in the bathroom and then make tracks. Say bye to your dad for me. Tell him he’s a saint.’
‘I will.’ I tilt my head back for a kiss, and say ‘bye’ to him as he shoots out the door.
We’re normally here at my house when Jake’s in town. We stay at his occasionally, but Maggie’s started dating so we like to give her space. Sadly, there’s no sign of Dad doing the same. It goes unspoken between Jake and me that we can’t go on like this for ever. Plus, at almost twenty-five, I should really think about moving out. But what will Dad do without me and Fleur to keep him company? I’m loath to leave him alone.
Besides, the thought of Jake and me sharing a house, with Fleur bouncing around our ankles, still scares and thrills me at the same time.
***
‘Happy Valenversary,’ I sing, meshing together valentines and anniversary as I throw my arms around Jake.
‘You too.’ He returns my hug and eases back. ‘Thanks for such a great day.’
‘My pleasure.’ We spent the day at Winchester Science Centre, playing like kids with the experiments and interactive games, before sitting in the darkened planetarium and watching a show which flew us through the universe in 3D. Holding hands, we gasped and wondered at the sights above us. When we came out it took us a while to reorient ourselves and come back to earth.
‘Are you sure you didn’t want to go out to a fancy restaurant?’ my boyfriend asks, looking worried. Jake’s my boyfriend! It still doesn’t seem real.
‘No, here is perfect.’ Maggie’s away overnight with a group of single friends who decided to get away from all the romantic fuss. While she’s getting herself out there, she hasn’t found anyone special yet. ‘Plus, I have these gorgeous flowers to stare at over dinner.’ I gesture to the bunch of lush red roses Jake bought me. He said he knew they were traditional, and maybe a bit cheesy, but they’re as vibrant as I am. He’s so sweet.
He’s set the table properly, with a tablecloth,
napkins and candles, glass flutes and a silver wine bucket full of ice with a bottle of prosecco resting in it. He’s also placed candles in jars all around the room. ‘This is lovely,’ I say, ‘thank you. Now, is dinner nearly ready?’ I tease, ‘or am I going to have to call for Chinese take-away?’
‘Cheeky!’ He disappears into the kitchen.
Later, after we’ve eaten a delicious meal of chicken parmigiana and dauphinoise potatoes with green vegetables, and delighted in a berry trifle, he slides a box over the tablecloth toward me.
‘Happy Valenversary. I know it’s a bit predictable –’ he rubs the scar above his lip with his finger, making me want to kiss him ‘– but it’s what I do. And it’s us.’
‘It is.’ Picking up the box, I open it on a gasp. ‘Oh, it’s beautiful. Thank you.’ Inside nestles a tiny heart-shaped charm with filigree detailing and a heart-shaped diamond in the middle. ‘I love it.’
‘Good.’ Without being asked, he takes the charm out of the box and fixes it to a link on my bracelet. ‘I know you have other hearts, the one from your mum and the one with the anchor and cross, but I just wanted to get you one that represented our love.’
‘You really are soppy.’ I shake my wrist and the bracelet tinkles satisfyingly. ‘Wow, there are so many on here now.’
‘Still plenty of links to fill though,’ he quips. ‘I’d better get this qualification finished so I can get my first OT job and keep buying these for you.’
‘No rush,’ I reply. ‘Besides, I’ve been thinking: maybe, one day, I should buy one? To mark an achievement or something. Perhaps when I earn enough from my art to scale back the day job. I’m a modern girl, so I’m quite capable of buying myself jewellery.’
‘Of course, you are,’ he says, eyes twinkling, ‘but there’s one type of jewellery you’re banned from buying yourself.’
‘What’s that?’
He doesn’t answer, but simply picks up my left hand and rubs a fingertip over my ring finger.
I gulp. It’s way too soon …
‘Don’t worry, I’m not proposing.’ He’s responding to the expression on my face. ‘I’m just letting you know what lies in our future.’
‘Well, let’s take it one step at a time.’ I jump up, smiling too brightly. ‘Now, it’s time for your present. Stay there.’
A minute later, I return to the kitchen carrying a large canvas under one arm. Balancing it on the chair, I straighten the cloth covering it. ‘Are you ready?’
‘I can’t wait.’ He watches solemnly as I pull the cloth away to reveal the painting.
He’s silent for such a long time I get nervous. ‘This is your favourite maritime port, right? Alexandria, in Egypt?’ I bite my lip. ‘Did I get it wrong?’ It’s taken me hours and hours of painstaking work over the last two weeks, my neck and back aching for days, my left hand curled into a claw from holding the paintbrush so long. ‘That time last Christmas when you were naming all the stars on your tattoo for me, I thought you said—’
‘No. This is it. I’m just … stunned.’ Getting to his feet, he comes over to the painting for a closer look. He peers at the white arched buildings, spires and multitude of windows. ‘It’s so detailed. You’ve captured its history so brilliantly. It’s one of the oldest ports in the world.’ He lifts his eyes to mine. ‘You usually paint in oils, but this is watercolour.’
‘I thought I’d try something different.’
‘It’s almost like I could be there. It’s amazing, Jones, thank you. I’m hanging it in my room facing my bed so I can see it before I go to sleep and when I wake up in the morning.’
‘Aww –’ I blush ‘– it was nothing.’
He hugs me. ‘It’s everything. It must have taken ages. You managed to keep it a secret from me too. Thank you. I love you.’
‘I l-love you,’ I stutter, still finding it hard to say the words as easily as he does. With his comment about proposing squeezing tension into my neck, it’s even harder.
***
We slip into March and his comment about proposing still niggles at me. While imagining a future with Jake makes me happy, there’s anxiety in the pit of my stomach. What if I’m not cut out for that kind of life? For a home, white picket fences, marriage, and a family? What if I’m like my mum? What if with the pressure I break, and run?
Where before I was relaxed and happy in Jake’s company, now I feel like I’m living on borrowed time, quivering with anticipation. But not the good sort.
My creativity dries up, and no matter how hard I try, no matter how many times I go into the spare room and stand in front of a blank canvas, I can’t put brush to paper. Nothing will come. I am confused and frustrated.
‘What’s got into you?’ Jake asks one evening while we’re drying dishes after dinner.
‘Nothing.’
‘Why are you so irritable?’
‘Excuse me?’ I step back, putting my hands on my hips.
He tilts his head to one side. ‘Something’s bothering you. What is it, Jones? You might as well tell me. Resistance is futile.’
‘You’re really going to quote Star Trek at me?’
‘It’s worth a try, isn’t it?’ His dimple flashes in his cheek.
I make a growling sound and flick the tea towel at him. ‘You’re so annoying.’
‘That’s my gift,’ he jokes, ‘now stop avoiding the subject. What’s up?’
I sigh. ‘I can’t paint.’
‘Why not?’ He comes over to me, squeezing my hands.
‘I don’t know.’
‘What’s holding you back?’
‘I don’t know!’ Tugging away, I pace around the kitchen, pulling a face at the disgusting dark cabinets. Why on earth haven’t we ripped it all out and started again? It’s so old-fashioned.
‘Then you need a bit of time and space to figure it out,’ he says sympathetically. ‘How about a day trip to Lulworth Cove and Durdle Door tomorrow?’
I stop pacing and stare at him. It’s Saturday tomorrow. Just the thought of walking down to the shingle beach at Lulworth with an ice-cream in my hand, and then panting up the steeply stepped hill along the cliff path to Durdle Door is enough to make me feel lighter.
Walking over to him, I slide my arms around his waist and rest my head against his beating heart. ‘That sounds like a great idea, thank you.’
***
We have a magical day in each other’s company. The coastline as stunning and rejuvenating as always. By the time we get back to mine, windswept and giggling, I feel better than I have in weeks.
But almost a week later, I still haven’t painted anything, and the frustration starts to build again. Then, one Saturday morning as Jake and I are eating scrambled egg on toast with Dad, an envelope plops through the letterbox, landing on the mat. Fleur rushes to the hallway, panting, and trots back in holding the envelope proudly in her mouth. Whistling to her, I exchange it for a corner of toast and pat her on the head. ‘Good girl.’
Flipping the envelope over, I peer at the scrawl on the front. It’s addressed to me, but I don’t recognise the writing. Ripping the flap open, I tug out a folded piece of paper and unfold it. ‘What?’ I whisper in disbelief.
‘What is it?’ Jake frowns, putting his knife and fork down.
‘Here. I don’t want it.’ Thrusting the letter at him, I jump to my feet, catching my thighs on the edge of the table. ‘Shit!’
‘My darling girl,’ Jake reads aloud, eyebrows pulling together. His mouth straightens into a line and the scar above his lip turns white. He and Dad exchange a look.
Rage makes me dizzy, and a wave of heat scalds my face. I start shaking. ‘I’m not her darling anything,’ I spit. ‘It’s too late.’ Snatching the letter from Jake, I tear it up into small pieces and throw them like confetti onto the table.
Marching into the hallway, I push my feet into my trainers and fling open the door. ‘I’m going for a walk.’
Jake and Dad follow me out in their socks. Dad looks ill at ease
. ‘Wait, Leila. Don’t leave like this.’
Jake’s face is full of understanding. ‘Do you want one of us to come with you?’
I can tell they’re both worried I might not come back. ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ I snap, ‘I’m going for a walk to clear my head. I’m not a kid any more. And I’m not running away from home.’
Dad winces. ‘Leila!’
Jake studies me with concern. ‘Okay. If you need picking up or anything, just call.’
I soften. ‘I will.’ Thrusting my hands into the pockets of my jeans to check I have my phone, I nod. ‘Don’t look so worried. I’ll be back.’ Setting off down the garden path, I sense their eyes on me. But I don’t turn around.
***
Three days later, I’m still unsettled and swinging between fury and regret. I can’t believe she had the cheek to write to me after all this time and call me her darling girl. She doesn’t have the right. I also can’t believe I tore the letter up without reading the rest of it and wish I hadn’t been so hasty. The first time in almost fourteen years she contacts me – something I’ve always been desperate for – and I mess it up.
When I slope into the spare room, planning to brood over a blank canvas and the mural of me and Jake, I stop dead. The letter’s propped up on my easel, stuck back together, tape holding fast the tiny pieces in lines and ragged edges.
Swallowing down a huge lump in my throat, I approach it. Intuitively I know it’s Jake who’s repaired it for me. Picking up the letter with a shaking hand, I begin to read.
My Darling Girl,
You probably think this letter is years too late, but for me it is almost too soon. It’s taken me a long time to feel whole enough to write to you, to make contact and try to explain. Still, I find I can’t. Not quite.
You will never know how sorry I am for leaving you and your father, how I regret how much I have missed over the years, but at the same time, it was the right thing to do, for all of us. I couldn’t stay.
So this is just me reaching out to you. Saying hello. I’ve decided there are some things that should be said face to face. So, I’m coming back, my darling. Not just yet, but soon. I’ll let you know when.
The Last Charm: The most page-turning and emotional summer romance fiction of 2020! Page 27