by Lucy Dillon
Gethin was embarrassed, and now she was too. It wasn’t that Alice didn’t think he was attractive – he was – but theirs obviously wasn’t that sort of relationship. It had been forged in some confess-all, soul-baring retreat; they must have connected on a deeper, private level, and she couldn’t just . . . pretend.
‘I’ll sleep in the spare room,’ he said, and raised his hand to ward off her protests. ‘No, no, I understand. It’s . . . I should have thought . . .’
His big brown eyes were so sad; Alice felt awful. She caught his arm as he came near her and he stopped. They stayed like that for a moment, her hand half circling his forearm, and then Gethin moved and wrapped his arms around her, very gently so as not to hurt her ribs, angling himself so there was no untoward groin connection, but still cocooning her body with his.
Alice let him, because she wanted to let him, and because it was comforting to be held like that. Baby steps, she thought. He was a good hugger. Her body finally started to relax into his, safe.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, into her hair. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘What for?’
‘For the accident. If I could take that day back . . .’
‘What day? What happened?’ There was something in his voice.
‘Does it matter now?’
‘Yes,’ said Alice, pulling away to read his expression. ‘It does. I need to know what happened. The consultant said I might never recover the memories immediately before the accident – you’re the only one who can help me piece that back together.’
Although he wasn’t the only one, was he? There was Luke.
‘I don’t want to start again on a bad note.’
‘Gethin, I need to know.’
He took a deep breath, then patted the edge of the bed. They sat down, both facing the drawn curtains. ‘Well, we had a row, to be honest.’ He picked at a hangnail, awkwardly. ‘We were going on holiday in the morning – we’d planned two weeks in France, but I’d actually managed to upgrade that a bit. To a fortnight in Thailand.’
‘Thailand? Wow.’
Alice could imagine herself on a beach in Wales. Not in Thailand.
Gethin smiled his wonky smile. ‘Well, it was our anniversary. Five-star villa, luxury resort, the works. Not something we’d ever done before, mind, before you start thinking we’re globetrotters. Simon . . . Um, Simon’s a mate of mine from uni. Don’t know if you remember him? No? OK, well, Simon had booked it; then his leave got cancelled, so he offered it to us if I could arrange the flights. I’d got everything sorted – I wanted to surprise you.’
‘Oh. And what? Don’t tell me I kicked off about a fabulous holiday in Thailand?’
He hesitated, but the way he reached out for her hand said it all. Gethin was too nice to say, ‘Yes, you did,’ but she’d told him to be honest.
‘For some reason, you didn’t want to go,’ he said.
Alice hadn’t expected that. ‘Why?’
‘Doesn’t matter now. We never really got to the bottom of it.’ Gethin bit his lip. ‘My sister told me I hadn’t really thought about it from your point of view. That you’d have packed for a different sort of holiday. “Girls need more notice for five-star beach holidays,” was what she actually said.’
‘But that’s so weird,’ said Alice. ‘We had a row because I didn’t like the holiday you’d booked?’
‘I don’t know. Like I said, it was a silly argument that got out of hand. We were both tired – it was one of the reasons we were going on holiday.’ He rubbed his face. ‘Let’s draw a line underneath it. It didn’t matter then; definitely doesn’t matter now.’
She sat for a moment, trying to process this new information but distracted by embarrassment. She’d made a massive, petulant fuss about a very sweet and generous gesture. She’d spoiled it. Why?
‘So . . . then what?’ Alice asked.
‘Um, we argued, you told me to . . . to, er, go on the holiday on my own, and then you left. And in the spirit of full disclosure, I rang my mate Huw and he got a standby ticket and we had a reasonably good time.’ Gethin touched her hand. ‘Not as good as it’d have been with you. Huw got sick of me moaning on by the third night. I texted you so much he hid my phone.’ He shot her a sideways look. ‘You never replied. I assumed you were really mad with me.’
‘Sorry,’ said Alice in a small voice. ‘I don’t know where my phone is. It must have been in my handbag.’
‘Don’t worry about it. We never argue. This was our first – and I hope only – stupid row.’ Gethin turned to her. They were quite close now. Not close enough to touch, but close enough for her to feel the warmth of his bare leg near hers. ‘But I’ve got a question for you now – why were you in Longhampton?’
‘I don’t know. I had the address of the hotel in my pocket, but I don’t know why I was going there.’
‘No idea?’
‘No, none. I must have heard about it from Luke, but I wasn’t going there for an interview, because they weren’t expecting me . . .’
‘Luke?’ Gethin looked blank.
I haven’t mentioned Luke, thought Alice, and something tightened up inside her. ‘Luke Corcoran. Jason’s brother.’
‘Was he there tonight?’ He frowned, trying to remember. ‘I thought you said you didn’t know these people?’
‘I don’t. Luke was staying at the White Horse last month – he said he told me his brother and sister-in-law had just taken over a hotel. That they were doing it up. And I guess . . .’ She tried to find a better explanation than the one rattling round her head. ‘He might have told me to go and have a look around?’
Was I meeting him? Luke hadn’t been there, though. He hadn’t expected to see her. But other questions were now pushing through. ‘When you came back from the holiday and I wasn’t there . . . didn’t you wonder where I’d gone?’
‘Of course! I rang; I emailed; I texted – you didn’t reply.’ Gethin raised his hands, then dropped them. ‘I thought you’d finished with me. I mean, we’d said some things in the heat of the moment, but . . . Well, what could I do, when you didn’t phone me, other than leave messages? I was only back here half a day, anyway. Cass – my colleague, Cass? – broke her wrist at the technical rehearsal and I had to take over on the schools tour, so I basically got back from the airport and then went to Yorkshire for a week. I assumed you’d be back here when I got home. Well, I hoped.’
‘And you kept ringing?’
‘Yes.’ He met her gaze with his own open, honest eyes. ‘Even though you didn’t call me back. I knew you were upset about something, but . . . sometimes you can get quite emotional and I feel like I can’t reach you. I thought it was just one of those moods.’
Alice was seeing a version of herself she didn’t like much. Was she the sort of person who could sulk for three weeks? Or disappear altogether? ‘But I didn’t have a phone, Gethin. For the last three weeks I’ve had no idea who I am, or what’s going on. If I’d had my phone, I could have been home in hours.’
‘I’m sorry. It’s just quite hard to get my head around.’ He ran a hand through his mop of hair.
The warm mood was wearing off, and Alice’s head ached. She dreaded headaches; she couldn’t help worrying it was her brain stopping its secret healing, maybe even going backwards, unpicking the fresh links between her fragile memories.
They sat on the bed, not saying anything.
In the morning, this room will start to look familiar again, Alice told herself, staring at the yellow circles on the grey curtains. The thing that’s missing will be here. We’ll start again.
She stopped. What was missing? Alice probed her brain; the feeling slipped and slid and finally disappeared. It was a mirage. Nothing was missing. Apart from their old relationship.
Gethin stood up. ‘Right, then. I’m going to sleep in the spare room,’ he announced. ‘You need a
decent night’s kip. You’ve probably forgotten about my snoring.’ His voice had gone very practical and kind. ‘Don’t even think about getting up before I bring you some breakfast in bed, please.’
Alice smiled up at him, and he touched her face with his fingers. Still gazing at her, he moved his hand until he was cupping her cheek, stroking her skin very tenderly with his thumb.
‘Alice, I can’t tell you how good it is to have you home,’ he said, and her heart melted. She leaned into his caress, much like Lord Bob had leaned into her ear scratchings.
‘I thought . . . I’m so glad you were in an accident, rather than just breaking up with me,’ he went on, and almost at once a look of horror contorted his face. ‘Oh my God, that sounded wrong. I’m so sorry. God, I didn’t mean it like that, Alice . . .’
Alice laughed. The first natural laugh they’d had. The relief was enormous, and when he looked relieved too, she felt the first glimmerings of confidence. This would be fine, she told herself.
And when he said goodnight, and their gazes locked, for a second Alice wondered if she should perhaps say, ‘No, come on, sleep in this bed we’ve shared.’ What could be the worst thing that could happen? He was a sweetheart. A gentle soul.
He was already pulling on his dressing gown, a well-loved stripy old thing. Had she wrapped herself in that, the first time she’d stayed?
‘Gethin,’ she said, ‘do you . . . ? Why don’t you sleep in here?’
He paused. ‘Are you sure?’
She nodded and a look of real happiness spread across his face.
Alice slipped under the duvet and settled herself in, conscious of Gethin’s rougher warmth centimetres away. The weight of him on the mattress. He leaned over and kissed her head respectfully; he smelled of minty toothpaste and an unfamiliar shampoo.
‘Night, love,’ he said, and as his breathing deepened, and he fell asleep, Alice lay staring up at the ceiling, letting thoughts swirl around her head like swallows grouping for their long flight south, whirling into shapes, breaking up to swirl into new, darker, then lighter patterns that scattered before she could take hold.
Chapter Eighteen
Gethin did bring her a cup of tea in bed the following morning, as promised; then at Alice’s suggestion, they went out for a walk. It felt easier to walk and chat than to sit around the house, surrounded by pictures of herself living a life she didn’t remember. There were only so many times she felt she could ask what they’d been doing or thinking before Gethin’s considerate expression cracked a tiny bit and she felt bad again.
They were just about to start sharing out the dishes of curry on Sunday night (a treat, from ‘their’ takeaway) when the phone in the hall rang. Gethin answered it, and Alice wasn’t surprised when she heard him say, ‘Yes, of course, Libby. I’ll just get her.’
‘It’s Libby, for you.’ He covered the mouthpiece. ‘I told her we’d just sat down to supper – she says she won’t be long.’
Alice smiled and took the phone.
‘Hello, Alice!’ Libby sounded flustered. ‘So sorry to bother you during supper, but I’ve got a huge favour to ask.’
‘Go on,’ said Alice. ‘Don’t I owe you at least one massive favour?’
‘Can you come in tomorrow and give me a hand? We’re getting new broadband installed, but Jason has to take his mother to the optician’s, apparently’ – Alice sensed that Jason wasn’t too far from the phone – ‘and I’m clueless. I know you understand computers. I don’t want to mess up that spreadsheet you’d nearly finished.’
‘Of course. I’d be happy to. There’s a train, isn’t there?’
‘You are a lifesaver. Thank you so much! How’s it going?’ Libby’s voice dropped, and Alice knew she was eager for the full happy-ever-after ending.
‘Great!’ she said, conscious of Gethin listening. ‘I’ll, er . . . I’ll see you tomorrow!’
When they’d arranged some details and she’d hung up, Gethin handed her a plate; it had much less on it than his, but she guessed he was trying not to overload her, if she was fussy about food. She could always have seconds. Maybe it had been one of those early date attempts to fake a birdlike appetite that she’d never been able to back out of.
‘Smells great!’ she said. ‘Did you say it was Tibetan, this place?’
Gethin wasn’t paying attention to the curry. ‘She’s not dragging you back there again already, is she?’ he asked, and Alice was surprised to see his jaw was set in a defiant way.
‘No! She just needs a hand setting up the new broadband. I’m glad to be able to help out. Why? Did you have something planned for tomorrow?’
‘No. Well . . . no. It’s just that . . .’ He looked conflicted, as if he didn’t know whether to say what he was thinking.
‘What?’ Alice paused, her fork raised.
Gethin frowned. ‘I hope she’s not going to take advantage – of you owing her a favour, I mean.’
Alice laughed, more at the thought of Libby taking advantage. ‘It’s nothing like that! Why do you say that? You met Libby. She’s lovely!’
‘I know, she is. It’s just . . . You’re so sweet, people are always taking advantage of you. Tony was like that, talking you into extra shifts at the last minute. I’m the same . . . It’s one of the things we have in common. Oh, sorry, this has come out wrong – I know you hate saying no, so sometimes I feel someone has to say no for you. You do it for me. We’re a team.’
That rang a bell somewhere deep in Alice and she felt touched by Gethin’s protective instinct. ‘Libby’s not like that,’ she reassured him.
‘I’m sure she’s not.’ Gethin pushed the raita towards her. ‘But you’re one of nature’s givers. Anyway, look, can you blame me for wanting to look after you? After what’s happened?’
He smiled, his gentle, boyish smile, and Alice smiled back, albeit with the unsettling sense that he was smiling at someone he knew but she didn’t know quite so well.
Libby was waiting outside the station with Lord Bob on a lead next to her. She was texting and creasing her brow, and balancing a cup of coffee from the mobile park wagon, all at the same time.
Bob wagged his tail when he saw Alice coming through the gates and she waved at him. The power of Bob’s wagging jolted Libby’s coffee hand and she yelped, looked up, saw Alice and a similarly happy expression lit up her face.
‘That’s a nice welcome,’ she said. ‘Sorry I haven’t got anything for you,’ she added, as Bob tried to put his nose into her bag.
Alice had selected the bag from the wardrobe, along with her dress, and her denim jacket. It had been strange looking at her clothes. Some brought back instant memories, like the navy suit from Hobbs she remembered buying for her first office job: her head filled instantly with aching toes, and a Coldplay album she’d listened to every day for months. Others meant nothing to her, like the long black dress Gethin said she’d bought for his work party at Christmas. His favourite dress. Even when he’d produced a photo of her in it – his arm round her, her face lifted to his under some mistletoe – she couldn’t remember it.
‘I’ve got your clothes in there,’ she added to Libby. ‘Washed and ironed. Thank you very much. You’ve given me a taste for expensive yogawear now.’
‘Oh, there was no need! They looked better on you anyway. Sorry about Bob,’ said Libby, nodding towards the dog, who was now furrowing his wrinkly brows at a squirrel. ‘I took him for a walk to get us both out of the hotel. The builders have only been here ten minutes and they’ve already knocked down the wrong wall.’
‘What?’
‘I know. Instead of knocking room five into room six, for the en suite, they’ve managed to put a hole in room seven.’ Libby looked frustrated. ‘Jason tried to get Marek to sort it out before he left with Margaret, but Marek’s not answering his phone . . . Not a great start to the week.’
‘No, but
once proper broadband’s up and running, you’ll feel better,’ said Alice. ‘Then you can get the website sorted. I’ll ring the designers if you want, pretend to be your PA chivvying them along.’
Libby was loading Bob into the back of the car. ‘It’s really good of you to come today,’ she said, pausing with Bob’s massive paws up on the bumper. ‘You sure you wouldn’t rather be at home with Gethin, catching up?’
‘He’s at work. What am I going to do at home? The sooner things go back to normal, the more likely I am to feel normal again.’
‘If you’re sure . . .’
Alice got into the car and pulled on her seatbelt. ‘I’m sure. Now, let’s get back before the builders knock down any more walls.’
Libby shut Bob in and got into the driver’s side. ‘How’s it going? Did you have a good weekend?’
‘Fine.’ That sounded lukewarm. ‘Fine!’ she repeated more enthusiastically.
Libby glanced across, eyebrow raised. ‘Is that a ring?’
Alice looked down at her hands. She was wearing a ring that she’d found on the dressing table; putting it on hadn’t triggered a memory, but when Gethin saw her wearing it, he’d looked pleased and that had told her something.
Her stomach had plummeted, though. She’d thought of Luke, and the secrets she didn’t even know if she was keeping. That wasn’t the right reaction, was it?
Libby had started the engine, but now she switched it off and turned to Alice. ‘Come on. Tell me. Before we get back to the hotel. Or do you want to walk and talk? He’s always up for an extra chance to meet and greet his public.’ She nodded towards the back of the car.
‘Yes,’ said Alice. ‘Yes, I’d like that.’
Libby unloaded Bob again and they walked out of the station, down the road towards the park.
‘The thing is,’ said Alice, when she’d explained about the conversation at bedtime and the awkwardness that had hung over the weekend, ‘we obviously had – have – a serious relationship, but it’s clearly a big emotional deal. He keeps going on about how we understand each other. He knows all about my mum and dad dying, so he must have told me some really personal stuff too. Which I can’t remember. But the worst thing is . . .’ She stopped, blushing.