‘ “Am going to run the marathon and I’m not going to come last.” ’
I grin.
‘Say it with me, Flo.’
‘I, Florence Andrews,’ we say together, ‘am going to run the marathon and I’m not going to come last.’
‘Now say it once more like you mean it. If I can’t train you outside, I’ll train you on the inside; it’s just as important.’
‘I, Florence Andrews, am going to run the marathon and I’m going to come first.’
‘Good.’ He laughs again. ‘Well, maybe not first.’
‘You know what, I am feeling better. Thank you, James.’
‘No need to thank me.’
I pluck up the courage to ask, ‘Is everything all right? I mean apart from today?’
‘Yes, why wouldn’t it be?’
‘You’ve been . . . I don’t know . . . You would tell me if anything was wrong, wouldn’t you?’
James stares ahead. ‘Chloe and I split up.’
‘I’m so sorry. When?’
‘A week ago.’
‘A week ago?’ I gasp. ‘Why didn’t you say something sooner?’
‘You’ve been asleep most of the time,’ he reminds me.
‘Why did you break up? Was it you?’
He nods.
‘I thought it was going well?’
‘I had to break up with her, because . . . well, it just didn’t work out,’ is all he ends up saying.
‘I’m sorry, James.’
‘Don’t be. It was the right thing,’ he asserts, his voice overly cheerful. ‘I thought it was better to break it off now, rather than . . .’ His voice trails off. ‘Anyway, it’s fine. I’m fine. It’s all good. Right, I’m grabbing myself something to eat.’
I touch his arm, not wanting him to leave. ‘You’re one of the most important people in my life, you know that don’t you?’
He looks at me before slowly withdrawing his arm. ‘Flo?’
‘Yes?’
Finally, he looks away. ‘Fancy anything to eat?’ He leaves the room giving me no time to answer.
Alone, I lie back down again, even more confused.
I can’t deny a part of me feels relieved he has broken up with Chloe, but what kind of person doesn’t want their friend to be happy? When he held my hands this evening, I wondered what it might feel like, if he ran his hand through my hair, or touched my cheek. Or clasped both hands around my neck and pulled me close towards him, before we kissed.
But if I were brave enough to tell him I do have feelings, I’d be naïve to think it wouldn’t change everything between us. If things were to go wrong, I could lose not only James, but possibly Maddie too, and my home here.
Iona talks about taking risks, but isn’t it safer to remain friends? To hope that whatever these feelings are, they’ll go away?
‘Flo,’ James says, returning. ‘I know this is bad timing – terrible, in fact – but the thing is . . .’
‘What is it?’
He hesitates.
‘James?’
‘I broke up with Chloe because life’s too short to be with the wrong person.’
I freeze, the fear of what he’s about to say next overwhelming.
I’m not ready for this.
‘You must know why I broke up with her. I don’t love her.’
Don’t say it.
‘I love you, Flo.’
He waits.
‘Say something,’ he begs.
‘James, I care for you, I care for you so much but—’
‘Don’t say what I think you’re going to say.’
‘We’re friends.’
‘No, we’re not. We’re more than that and you know it.’
‘We have too much to lose if it goes wrong.’
‘So that’s it? We never give it a go? Every single relationship we go into is a risk, but don’t we owe it to ourselves to try?’
I have never felt this torn, or confused. Or scared. Exposed.
‘I’ve wanted to say it for so long,’ he continues, ‘but, like you, I’ve been too frightened, but I’m sick of that. I want to look back knowing I told you, that I didn’t choke or bottle out, that for once I put my heart on the line.’
‘James, you know this makes it complicated.’
‘I don’t care.’
‘But what if—’
‘You test positive? I don’t care.’
‘But you should care,’ I raise my voice. ‘What if I decide not to take the test? Can you really live with the uncertainty?’
‘Just tell me if you feel the same,’ he says, as if he didn’t hear my question.
Tell him, Flo.
Don’t tell him.
‘Fine,’ he says, leaving the room.
Look at what you could lose.
Look at what you could have.
‘James, wait!’ He turns, a tiny glimmer of hope in his eyes. I want to say I love him too, but . . .
Don’t cross that line.
Cross it.
Yet hasn’t it been crossed already? I think we both know we went over the line a long time ago.
He walks away.
I get out of bed and run after him. ‘Don’t go.’ I grab him by the arm, not ready to let go of him yet, or the idea of us. ‘All I’m saying is I need more time.’
‘Time for what?’ he asks, his tone gentle. ‘Haven’t we waited long enough?’
‘It’s us. You and me.’
‘What’s going on?’ asks Granny, joining us in the hallway. ‘Flo, you’re shivering. Get back into bed.’
‘Hang on, Granny,’ James and I say together, our eyes not leaving one another.
‘I can’t. I can’t lose you,’ I say, wrapping my arms around my chest.
‘Theo left you. Graham walked out on your mum. I get you’re scared, Flo. So am I. I’m terrified, but we can’t live our lives in fear.’
He steps towards me, but I back away. He nods, as if to say he understands. And this time I don’t follow him when he leaves.
Minutes later, I hear the sound of his motorbike outside. I look out of my bedroom window and realize I’m crying.
Granny enters my room. I don’t have to tell her what’s wrong. She holds me in her arms until my tears subside.
79
Beth’s Diary, 2012
Mark dropped a bombshell today. He called me unusually early this morning, sounding agitated, saying he had to see me. I knew something was up because, since our argument six months ago, we’ve barely been in touch. Within an hour he was knocking on my door.
‘I’ve left her,’ he confessed the moment he stepped inside. ‘Beth, I’m free.’
For the first time in years I felt hope. Was he really saying we could be together at last?
I thought I must have been dreaming when he took my face in his hands and kissed me. I hadn’t been kissed for so long – not since Graham – that I’d forgotten how it felt to be touched and held in someone’s arms. I’d forgotten what it felt like to be desired.
I kissed him back, like I have never kissed a man before, wanting to stay in his arms for ever. When finally we parted, he told me to sit down.
‘I’ve left Camberwell. I’m moving to France,’ he said.
‘To France?’
‘To be closer to my sister. It’s a new start, a new beginning.’ He paused. ‘Come with me.’
‘Come with you?’ I repeated, as if it were impossible.
‘Yes. Why not? This is our chance, Beth.’
‘But what about Flo?’
‘Flo’s leaving college next month,’ he reasoned. ‘She’s almost finished her course.’
‘I can’t leave her.’
‘And then she’ll be working away from home just like my boys.’
‘I can’t tell her my news and then abandon her.’
‘You won’t be abandoning her.’
‘She’ll need me.’
‘And she’ll still have you. You don’t have to be physically here.’<
br />
‘But—’
‘She’s a grown-up, Beth. An adult.’
‘But Mark, she’ll need me.’
‘She’ll always need you, and you can be there for her, no matter where you live.’
‘It’s not the same.’
‘But maybe that’s a good thing,’ he argued.
‘I love you. I want to be with you – of course I do – but why can’t we stay here?’
‘We can’t. Well, I can’t.’
‘Why?’
‘I’ve been offered a teaching job in Carcassonne.’
‘Have you accepted?’
Before I’d even asked the question, I knew the answer.
Mark touched my arm. ‘You were right, Beth, I have been scared of change and hurting those I love, but isn’t this what we’ve always wanted? To be together? Now we have a chance.’
‘But what about when I’m unwell, when I need Amanda, the hospital—’
‘I can be with you,’ he assured me, ‘love you and care for you.’
‘My symptoms are getting worse,’ I confessed almost wanting to put him off so I didn’t have to make this decision. ‘I forgot the way to school again, and the other day I fell—’
‘I know what’s to come, Beth. It’s a big step for both of us, but you don’t have to be alone.’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. Why does fear always have a nasty habit of creeping in?
‘I’ve put my family first for years, but now it’s time for us.’
I looked at Mark, desperately torn. He has been a part of my life for over twenty years and I love every single thing about him, from the kindness in his heart to the lines around his dark blue eyes that tell a thousand different stories, to the grey in his hair and the old jumpers he wears with holes in their elbows, reminding me so much of my father.
But France? Leaving Flo? And Amanda? Leaving Mum, too, when she finds out I tested positive? My job? What would I do in France? How can I just pack my bags and leave everything I love behind? Except if I were to stay here I wouldn’t have Mark . . .
‘I need to go, Beth, get away from here. I need a clean break.’
‘When are you leaving?’
‘At the end of the week.’
‘So soon?’ I gasped.
Say you’ll go, Beth. Say it.
‘I love you,’ I said instead.
‘Then come,’ he begged.
‘Your life in France will be much easier without me.’
‘Stop it. It won’t.’
‘You do deserve a new start, but I don’t want you to be burdened with—’
‘Listen.’ He grabbed hold of me. ‘I love you, okay, and nothing will change that.’
I realized there and then that I have been terrified of living on my own for the rest of my life, but putting your faith and hopes in a new dream, away from everything that is so familiar can be just as daunting.
‘It doesn’t have to be right now,’ Mark continued. ‘It can be later, when you’ve talked to Flo and your mother. We’ve been friends for years, Beth. Finally this is our chance,’ he reinforced.
‘I can’t,’ I said, turning away, fighting hard not to cry. ‘I can’t ever leave Flo. I need to be here. With her.’
80
Flo
I stare at my clothes neatly laid out on my bed, hardly able to believe it’s happening, that I’m actually running the marathon tomorrow. I was so close to thinking I’d have to pull out, but thankfully my flu didn’t drag on. I don’t know who was more determined that I run today, me, Iona or Granny, but between the three of us, here I am.
My kit bag is packed, my number is pinned to my red and green HDA running vest and my tag is tied to my trainers so that Maddie and James can track me on their phones during the race.
I sit down on the bed, my stomach knotted with nerves. The forecast for tomorrow is going to be hot, something like twenty-three degrees. Far too hot to run twenty-six point two miles.
‘Supper in twenty minutes,’ I hear Granny call from downstairs. She’s making us some pasta with pancetta and pesto.
I glance at my phone. I haven’t seen James for over three weeks. Not since he told me he loves me. After he left the flat, he texted to say he was staying over with Stu and Jane. The following morning I packed my bags. I thought it was the best thing, for both of us.
I left a note on the kitchen table explaining that I’d moved in temporarily with Granny. I knew the only way I could work out my feelings for him, once and for all, was if we didn’t live together. But I didn’t want James to feel driven out of his own flat either. It was his home.
He hasn’t been in touch once. I shouldn’t be surprised. He has given me exactly what I asked for: space and time.
Yet I can’t deny that not seeing him has been much harder than I’d expected, and there have been many times when I’ve longed to pick up the phone. I’ve yearned to hear his voice. I’ve missed him as my trainer and flatmate. But most of all, I’ve missed my best friend.
‘Well, tell him that,’ Iona has insisted during our runs.
‘But he wants more.’
‘And you don’t? Are you mad? Blind? Deaf? Dumb? What’s holding you back?’
I dreaded talking to Maddie about it because I knew this was exactly what she’d anticipated, but she was supportive, telling me I’d done the right thing moving out.
‘He’s in pieces, though, Flo,’ she added. ‘He wanted me to tell you he was doing brilliantly, but I can’t lie.’ She laughed sadly. ‘Tread carefully. He might be my stinky old bro, but I kind of love him too.’
She’s staying with James tonight, but will be here with me early tomorrow morning to catch the tube to Greenwich Park. Granny has suggested coming with me to the start too, but I managed to put her off that idea, as the assembly area is really only for runners and I didn’t like the idea of Granny being out all day in the heat.
As I’m about to head downstairs for supper, my mobile rings. When I see his name I feel nervous.
‘Hi,’ I say, picking up, ‘how are you?’
‘I’m good,’ James replies, doing his best not to sound nervous too. ‘You?’
‘Great. Well, I’m terrified actually, what’s new?’
‘You’ll be fine. You’ve done the hard bit getting over flu and finishing your training.’
I’m so affected by hearing his voice that I start to gabble, telling him these past three weeks Iona and I have trained as if our lives depended on it. I bang on about how I completed a mock trial of twenty-two miles, which I finished in five hours, and I’ve taken my final week easy, just a few short runs.
‘Though I find the short runs as hard as the long ones. They’re harder to pace, aren’t they . . .’ I stop, sick of the sound of my own voice, especially when all I want to know is how he is. ‘How are you?’ I ask again.
‘I’m fine, Flo,’ he replies, his voice now distant.
‘I’ve missed you.’
‘Anyway, the reason I was calling,’ he says as if he didn’t hear me. ‘It’s going to be hot out there tomorrow, apparently record temperatures. Stop at every drinking station, listen to your body, don’t push yourself in the heat, run in the shade as much as you can, and look out for us. I’ll try to get to Tower Bridge or Canary Wharf, and close to the end, okay? We’ll aim to stick to the left, and Maddie’s drawn an enormous picture of you on a banner so you won’t be able to miss us.’
‘I hope she’s edited out the blue tape covering my legs. Shin splint hell.’ I long to hear him laugh too, as he normally would. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d come,’ I say quietly.
‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Good luck, Flo.’
After we hang up, I can’t stop thinking about him.
James invades my thoughts every minute of the day. Sometimes my imagination leads me to a happy place where we’re together, but then doubt creeps in, thinking yet again that the stakes are too high. And do I really want James to place his bets on someone like me, someone wi
th such an uncertain future? Is it fair on him?
‘But that’s his choice to make,’ Granny tells me over supper. ‘Don’t forget, too, Flo, what you can offer someone like James. Don’t forget how special you are. He sees it, I see it, the whole world does as far as I’m concerned, so perhaps it’s time you did too.’
I think of Mark and how I wish things had turned out differently between him and Mum. She had waited so long to find love – she didn’t even believe it would ever come along – but then when it did, she backed away in fear and sacrificed her future for my own.
I wish she had done many things, but most of all, I wish she’d packed her bags and gone to France. Perhaps she would still be alive. And I wish, more than anything, she could be there watching me tomorrow.
*
Later that night, I can’t sleep. I switch on my bedside light and pick up Mum’s last diary. I’m now in July 2012, only days before she died.
I’m dreading saying goodbye to her all over again.
81
Beth’s Diary, 2012
I saw Amanda today. I told her I was a proud mum. My Flo got a 2:1! She’s currently with Maddie in Venice. Amanda was thrilled, of course, but it wasn’t long before I detected impatience. She didn’t want to discuss the beauty of Piazza San Marco and what a crime it was that she hadn’t been yet.
‘Beth,’ she said, raising her hand to stop me mid-flow.
‘I know,’ was all I could say. I have to tell Flo when she returns in two days.
Amanda suggested it might be a good idea for Flo to make an appointment to see a HD adviser when the time comes. My mother might also need to see a counsellor. I think that too would be a good idea. I have always believed Mum has suffered post-traumatic stress, another big reason, aside from her heart, why I haven’t wanted to burden her with my situation. When Dad was really unwell I suggested Mum should seek counselling, but that went down like a lead balloon, so somehow I doubt she’ll see one now, but you never know.
As I reached for my glass of water, I caught Amanda glancing at my right hand, the hand that twitches as if I have a constant itch. It slipped from my grasp, water spilling across her desk. I made some sort of joke about how clumsy I am these days.
And as to why I was late for my appointment, when I got off the tube, my mind went blank as to where I was. This hospital has been my second home for years – I don’t have to think about which way to go or what button to press in the lift – but today I felt like a tourist following the signs in a foreign country. It was frightening.
If You Were Here Page 27