An Impossible Thing Called Love

by Belinda Missen

  ‘Look what the afternoon breeze blew in.’ William didn’t have to look to know it was me sneaking in to grab a coffee.

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Because I’ve listened to you shuffle about to the loo in the dark of night.’

  I smiled coquettishly and leant into his side. ‘And what does that sound like?’

  ‘Like that stampede at the start of The Lion King.’ He bit into his apple. ‘That’s after you’ve stubbed your toe on the doorway, cursed like a sailor, and turned on so many lights anyone would think Clark Griswold had moved in.’ He leant in and kissed my cheek. ‘But I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

  He walked away before I could say anything else.

  Stolen moments like that became precious commodities. Gold chips in the sludge of a punchy work day, they provided that loved-up, sherbet buzz feeling that never got old. Our usual place of rendezvous was the staff room, because how romantic was it to whisper sweet nothings to each other around a benchtop littered with spilt sugar and baked on coffee granules.

  Despite any assertions to Heather that I wanted to maintain some level of independence, nights and weekends were soon taken up by William. On nights I went to the gym, he’d be waiting on my couch when I got home. Other nights, I would go to him. I was turning into a regular old coupled-up woman, and it felt like something I’d waited my whole life for.

  With my London List almost finished – I had one or two items left – weekend outings were replaced with sleep-ins and paint brushes. Saturday morning shifts were ditched in favour of staying in bed and enjoying copious amounts of sex, and restaurant hopping was left behind in favour of home-cooked meals. It was a sweetly domesticated existence that we slipped into naturally without meaning or planning to. We went on like this for weeks, completely uninterrupted and thinking this was the greatest life ever.

  In our turn of domesticity, we’d been making headway repainting William’s house. Well, it was mostly him, but I often got dragged into it when I visited. The only room I wasn’t allowed to help with was the bedroom. That was his to fix, he said. It meant a few weeks where he’d stayed with me instead of the other way around.

  ‘I’ll bring a bag.’ I reached up to press my lips to his. ‘Seven?’

  ‘Seven’s good.’ He kissed me again. ‘I’ll cook.’

  ‘Really?’ I used my back to push the door closed again, stealing another kiss. ‘What are you making?’

  ‘It’s a surprise.’

  Mostly, his version of cooking involved a delivery driver but, when I arrived just before seven o’clock, he was busy cooking. I dropped my overnight bag on the dining table and offered him a hug.

  ‘This looks interesting.’

  ‘I bought new pots.’ He kissed my forehead. ‘After getting on the scales and realising pizza wasn’t the friend it promised.’

  ‘Doctor, doctor, how very insightful of you.’ I buried my face in the warmth of his neck and laughed. ‘How was your day?’

  ‘The parts that involved you were fun,’ he said. ‘Otherwise, all as usual.’

  ‘Pam asked me what we were laughing at this afternoon,’ I said, hoisting myself up onto the bench and helping myself to a glass of water. ‘Apparently we looked very chummy.’

  We certainly felt very chummy. Laughter continued to permeate the afternoon, single words leading to a red-faced William crouched beside my chair trying to hide his face from everyone. All it took was a single word reminder of something we’d said in Paris and, snowballing from a joke he’d told earlier, he lost control.

  ‘Good thing she won’t be seeing us in a few short hours.’ William switched off the stove top and held his hand out to me. ‘I have a surprise for you.’

  ‘I think you’ve used that line before.’

  ‘Ah, this is a proper surprise. No lies.’

  ‘No overselling?’ I teased.

  ‘You cruel, cruel woman.’ He laughed, low and guttural.

  I slid from the bench and followed him. While he took the stairs two at a time, nattering excitedly about all the things he’d done around the house, I was happy to dawdle along behind him.

  Last time I saw his bedroom, a frame surrounded the bed, but none of the other furniture had been assembled. Instead, it sat boxed up in the corner until he could get around to painting the room. Like P.T. Barnum on a good night, he gestured to the door with a flourish and pushed me in with a tap of his foot on my backside.

  ‘Oh, wow.’

  Dirty old white paint had been replaced with delicate greys and navy blues. Bedside tables complemented the bed frame perfectly, which had now been pushed up against the far window of the room. With the addition of a soft fabric wing-backed chair and a few cushions and throw rugs, the room looked like something out of a catalogue.

  ‘This is magic.’ I rubbed at his chest while taking everything in. Wall and light switches had been replaced with designs more fitting of a period home, and the ceiling light threw shadows across the roof in a way that felt cosy, like you’d never want to get out of bed.

  ‘Thank you.’ He collapsed into his new chair and crossed his legs over. ‘At least it’ll be a bit nicer for you to stay in now.’

  I sat on the end of the bed. ‘You know that I’m quite okay with staying over as long as you’re involved.’

  ‘Yeah, well, comfort is good, too, and this is proper comfortable now.’

  ‘Did you paint everything?’ I gazed about the room.

  ‘Everything except the floorboards,’ he said. ‘And there’s one more thing.’

  ‘More?’

  ‘Come on.’

  William was out of the room and gone before I could so much as stand, his footsteps thudding on the stairs that led to the third floor. The previously abandoned room was now painted, had a lounge suite, cinema system, and project. Wall to wall shelves ran behind the lounge suite, which was a rich caramel colour.

  I laughed. ‘Get out.’

  ‘Good?’

  ‘Good? This is incredible. You’ve been doing all this between work and banishing me and divorcing someone else.’

  ‘I don’t really need to do much with the whole divorce thing. That’s why I pay other people’ He squinted. ‘But, yeah, I guess I have.’

  ‘Are you not exhausted?’

  ‘Have you seen how quickly I fall asleep lately?’

  I threw myself down on the couch and waited for William to join me.

  He crawled over the top of me. ‘You did say that your bookshelf was already full and, well, I want you to think of this as a long-term thing. You and me, like we should have always been. I want you to feel at home here.’

  ‘William.’ I held his face away from mine.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You are incredible.’

  He lifted himself from the couch. ‘I’m not so bad, am I? Come eat dinner, and I’ll tell you about the rest of it.’

  * * *

  A student volunteer handed us visitors’ stickers and schedules. Heather flipped the paper over in her hand, gave it a quick look of approval, and handed it to me. In my all too brief study of schools in the area, King’s College London kept coming up as the place to go for all things nursing. As I wandered around the Waterloo campus, talking to staff and students, I got that jittery feeling that, even if I wasn’t entirely sure what I should be looking for, my options were only limited to how much work I was prepared to put in.

  ‘What do you think?’ I walked beside her down Stamford Street.

  ‘It’s a bit fancy, Em.’ She nudged me with her shoulder. ‘I think you’ll do great.’

  ‘It’ll be a huge change.’ I craned my neck to peer up at one of the buildings.

  ‘But you’ve got the scores, right? This is a cakewalk for you.’

  ‘As long as there’s no entrance exams,’ I said. That wasn’t a total joke. ‘But there is. And it’s full-time, so I would have to work somewhere else. Probably at nights and weekends.’

  ‘And here’s the cr
ux of the issue.’ She pointed a finger and walked backwards as we talked. ‘A, you have a really lovely … boyfriend?’

  ‘I do.’ I smiled inwardly.

  ‘And you’re enjoying lots of … food right now.’

  I laughed loudly. ‘Food, yes.’

  ‘But have you discussed future plans?’

  ‘Actually, this is a question that deserves to be answered over a meal.’ I looked up from the map. ‘Have you got the time?’

  ‘Do I have the time for seedy gossip and sex chat? Boy-o, yes I do,’ she laughed. ‘I can already tell this is going to be good.’

  Heather might jokingly refer to herself as The Mum, but it did feel like that sometimes. She was number one for advice, even if she was a little thirsty for gossip, but at least I knew it would go nowhere once I told her. Except maybe for Josh, but he was one and the same anyway. We split an overpriced sandwich from a café near Waterloo Station, and splurged on hot chocolate with chocolate whipped cream, because that was the non-alcoholic drink of the gods. After that, we wandered about Southbank until we found a few free seats.

  ‘Alright, Globetrotter, what’s going on?’

  ‘Globetrotter,’ I scoffed. ‘Please.’

  ‘You are. Look at you, mad sex weekends in Paris—’

  I giggle-snorted. ‘It was pretty incredible.’

  ‘Even madder sex weekends at home, thanks for letting us hear that last weekend.’

  ‘Oh shit.’ I pulled the neck of my shirt up over my head and hope it hid me. It didn’t, and I laughed until I cried, probably out of sheer embarrassment.

  ‘It’s okay, it’s fine.’ She smiled knowingly. ‘It’s part and parcel of living with people. It’s cool.’

  ‘I am so sorry.’

  ‘Are you though? Because you didn’t say sorry at the end, you thanked him.’ Heather folded in on herself and fell about laughing. ‘It was so pure. Like, thank you kind sir for helping me out of a hole there.’

  ‘Or in one, as it were.’ I laughed all over again.

  ‘Alright, spill. What’s happened recently that’s making you think twice about school?’

  ‘Who says I’m thinking twice?’ I asked. I loved that all these people around me thought they knew what I was thinking before I did.

  ‘Because you flinched when I said, “future plans”.’

  I let out a deep breath and looked at her. ‘William’s asked me to move in with him.’

  ‘Oh, Em.’ Heather clutched at her chest. ‘Yes, but no.’

  ‘Yeah, but nah? How does that work?’ Truthfully, I’d kind of hoped she was going to tell me I was being a bit precious and should jump at the opportunity. That it wasn’t going to be the death nell that I thought it would be.

  ‘Too soon, too soon.’ She waved a hand about, careful not to splash hot chocolate on her. ‘I mean, do you want to spend every second of the day with the guy, or what?’

  ‘No, not really. I, you know, I have feelings for him, but I don’t need him around all the time.’

  ‘That’s exactly what it will be if you live with him.’ She pulled a face. ‘And what’s this “I have feelings” shit? You’ve only had your kids’ names picked since the minute you met him.’

  I really hadn’t. I glanced down at the show bag bursting with school fliers, free drink bottles, and random landfill items. ‘Maybe I should go back to school and work nights. That way we won’t be in each other’s faces. That could work.’

  ‘You want to say yes.’

  ‘I kind of do, yeah.’ I shrugged. ‘Is that so bad?’

  ‘No, no, please don’t think that it’s bad. That’s not what I’m saying at all. What I’m saying is you need to be careful. Everything’s a bit tender for him, you’ve said yourself that you don’t want any more run-ins with his wife, so maybe keeping separate spaces until that’s settled is a good idea.’

  ‘What’s the financial impact for you if I do?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, please,’ she scoffed. ‘That’s not an issue. Seriously, scratch that from your mind. We were surviving fine before you, and we’ll be perfectly good after you. It’s a non-issue. For us, it was just a bonus.’

  ‘Okay, alright.’ I bit into my sandwich and let the quiet filter through for a few moments. ‘I’d still need to pay rent at William’s, so I’d need a night job.’

  ‘Emmy, you won’t be boarding, you’ll be banging.’

  If I survived lunch without choking, I was going to go home thankful. ‘Stop it.’

  ‘It’s true, Ems. He won’t charge you board.’

  ‘He should,’ I said. ‘Mortgages don’t pay themselves.’

  ‘No, he shouldn’t. He’s asked you to move in.’ She held up a finger. ‘And another thing. How long is this course? Have you thought about what you want to achieve in the next four years? I’m all for further education, you know I wouldn’t try and talk you out of this, but … marriage? Kids?’

  ‘I hear you.’

  ‘Is it too early to have those discussions with William?’ She looked at me.

  ‘He’s a doctor, he’s meant to be able to talk about the hard stuff.’

  ‘Well, we all know about his bedside manner.’

  ‘Oh, stop it, you.’ I tossed the last of my roll at her. ‘Enough.’

  Chapter 28

  Since living in London, I’d learned that your phone ringing in the middle of the night did not necessarily mean an emergency. It was more likely that your family hadn’t thought to calculate the time difference. Or, like the call I got very early one Monday morning, my sister was in labour and wanted me to share in every gasp, cry, groan, or screamed curse from thousands of miles away.

  Aaron Sumner popped into the world a little after 4 a.m. my time. Everyone dissolved into perfectly happy tears, before my phone was bombarded with photos I couldn’t possibly look at until I ended the call. All that mattered was that he was healthy, my sister was okay, and that there were no issues. I’d promised I would visit as soon as I could and hung up knowing that the world was perfectly balanced.

  William cuddled into my back as I scrolled through the handful of photos a dozen times.

  ‘You okay?’ he whispered.

  I wiped away an ecstatic tear and snivelled. ‘I am so thrilled right now.’

  ‘Good.’ He kissed my shoulder. ‘He looks like you.’

  ‘You think?’ I peered again at the photo of a screaming, vernix covered little boy. ‘How so?’

  ‘He’s screaming, probably about being woken up or being hungry. It’s a look you’ve perfected.’

  Laughing, I’d shifted in his arms to look at him. ‘You’re awful.’

  ‘And yet, here you are.’

  My phone and all social media became a hotbed of activity, bombarded with so many photos, I was sure I could piece them together to make a flip book movie. Almost every little burp, squeak, nappy change, and face pull was captured in digital glory for the world to see. Looking at those images on heavy rotation would have to do until I got a chance to fly home, which brought me to Brian’s office.

  More recently, Brian had mastered the art of two-fingered typing. He did that thing my mum does when she sits down at the computer: glasses on, squinted eyes, hunched over at the keyboard. It was a hoot to watch, because how did you end up a qualified GP without getting some serious typing practice in?

  ‘I’m always losing the keys,’ he mumbled. ‘M, there you are.’

  ‘Sneaky little sucker,’ I laughed.

  ‘Right.’ He straightened up and gave me a look of grave concern. ‘All of December?’

  ‘Sort of?’ I tried. ‘Maybe the second week of December until the end of the first week in January?’

  He took his glasses off and raised his brows. ‘Funnily enough, Red wants to come back on the same date.’

  ‘Really?’ I looked about nervously, scratched the back of my head, and I was sure I was completely busted. To add authenticity, I leaned in to look at the computer and did my best surprised face. ‘What a
re the odds?’

  ‘Depends on who you ask.’ Brian slipped his glasses back in place. ‘Any exciting plans?’

  ‘My sister just had a baby. I’d love to go home and see her, them, all of them. Some not as much as others.’ I snorted. ‘Plus, I’m happy to go without pay, so it will cost you exactly zero pennies to let me loose.’

  ‘No pay?’ His gaze settled on me. ‘Don’t be silly. I’ll sort something out.’

  I nodded, a little surprised and touched by his concern. ‘I just need to cover the airfare.’

  ‘You’ll be entitled to something, Emmy. You got here on such short notice, which helped get us out of a huge hole, and Pam hasn’t requested any time off, so it’s only fair. I’ve just clicked the approve button.’

  I stood so quickly my head spun.

  ‘Oh, and Oz?’ Brian passed some papers across the table. ‘It’s a week or two shy of six months, but I thought you might like to sign this before you leave.’

  A brand-new shiny contract, permanent full-time, no six-month expiry. I snatched the bundle of paper up and flipped through it quickly. This ranked as one of the best things that had happened here so far. I’d done okay, I’d got through my probation without being flung out into space. I was staying.

  I clapped excitedly. ‘Thank you. Thank you. I’ll send a postcard.’

  I was out the door before Brian had a chance to change his mind. As for my own mind, I was floating somewhere up in the clouds, two weeks away from a month off work, and tapping away madly at my phone. There was no hope of a cheap airfare at this late stage but, without having to pay for anything else, I did not care in the least.

  Select dates, cheapest fare, midday flight. I settled back into my desk and spat out my credit card number without thinking twice.

  Done.

  I was going home!

  ‘Earth to Emmy,’ Pam stretched out and tapped me with a ruler. ‘Ding, ding!’