The Minute I Saw You

by Paige Toon

  ‘Charles gets back in less than three months,’ I remind him.

  He sighs heavily and pulls up a stool, staring at me despondently.

  I return his stare equally as miserably. I don’t want to miss this.

  ‘Why do you have to leave?’ he asks quietly.

  ‘I just do. I can’t live with Charles.’ I stayed with him for a few weeks before he went away and I’m not keen to repeat the experience anytime soon.

  ‘Why not?’ He doesn’t wait for my answer before saying, ‘So get another place. Don’t leave. Stay.’

  ‘It’s only early July now. Can’t we aim for the end of September? I’ll help in any way I can. If you need an assistant . . . Someone to stick up posters around Cambridge . . . Optical volunteers . . . I’ll do anything.’

  ‘We could aim for the end of September,’ he says. ‘But why do you have to go when Charles gets back?’

  ‘I need to see my parents. I haven’t visited in almost two years.’

  ‘They’re in Australia?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How long will you stay with them?’

  ‘A couple of weeks. I’d probably throw myself in the river if it were much longer. They live on a houseboat,’ I remind him.

  He nods, remembering. ‘And after you’ve seen them? What will you do?’

  ‘I’ll travel for a while.’

  ‘Why?’ He’s perplexed. ‘I mean, obviously I get why you want to see the world, but you already seem to have done a lot of that. Wouldn’t you like to stay in one place for a bit?’

  ‘I have stayed in one place for a bit. This is the longest I’ve been in the UK for ages.’

  ‘You don’t like it here in Cambridge?’

  ‘It’s not that.’

  ‘Whatever it is you feel you can’t tell me, does anyone else know?’

  I nod, staring down at my hands. ‘Charles. Danielle. Nina. Evelyn. And my parents.’

  Suddenly I feel weary to my bones. It’s exhausting, carrying my past around with me. It’s wearing me down. He’s wearing me down.

  He sighs, then, after a long pause, says: ‘I’m going to tell my sister Harriet about the abuse.’

  I look up at him.

  ‘I need to know who he was,’ he explains. ‘I remember his first name, but not his surname. I want to find out what happened to him.’

  ‘What will you do when you find out?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he admits. He swallows, hesitating, and then: ‘Are you and your parents close?’

  Is he telling me things so I’ll confide in return? I suspect this is the case, but I find myself responding.

  ‘It’s hard to be close to people who live on the other side of the world. They don’t even have a telephone.’

  ‘But is your relationship with them generally good?’

  ‘It’s okay,’ I reply slowly. I sigh. ‘Something happened when I was younger, which we haven’t ever really got over.’

  ‘The accident?’

  I wince.

  ‘One of them caused it?’

  I shake my head quickly. I’ve already said more than I ever intended to.

  ‘When will you tell Harriet?’ I steer the topic of conversation back to him.

  ‘I’m seeing her tomorrow.’

  ‘Will you tell your parents too?’

  He’s horrified. ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I couldn’t bear it.’

  ‘What about Rochelle?’

  ‘No way!’

  If I thought he looked disturbed before, it’s nothing compared to how he looks now.

  ‘But maybe it would help her to understand why you were the way you were.’

  ‘Do you know how many paedophiles were abused as children?’ he asks. ‘If she thought there was any chance, any chance at all that I might . . .’ He jumps to his feet, agitated. ‘If anyone hurt our kids, I’d kill them,’ he says passionately. ‘I would never . . . I would never . . .’

  ‘Of course you wouldn’t!’ I’m indignant on his behalf. ‘Rochelle must know you’re incapable of hurting them.’

  ‘I can’t take that risk. I will never take that risk.’ He’s so distressed.

  I slide off my stool and slip my arms around his waist.

  For a moment, he’s rigid, and then he hugs me back.

  It’s bliss. He’s so warm and solid. I can feel his heart beating – it’s resonating through my ribcage.

  ‘I wish you could talk to me the way that I talk to you,’ he mumbles against my hair. ‘Don’t you trust me?’

  ‘It’s not that.’ Now I’m twitchy.

  ‘No, you’re right not to. The last time you hugged me, I tried to get into your knickers.’

  I laugh against his chest, loving him for lightening the mood.

  ‘Well done for keeping your promise, by the way,’ he says in an oddly buoyant tone. ‘I am sorry for kissing you,’ he adds in a whisper.

  ‘Forget it,’ I brush him off, pulling back to look at him.

  I’m surprised to see that his expression is serious.

  ‘I can’t,’ he replies with a small, helpless smile.

  Then he lets me go and picks up the packet of pasta.

  ‘Right. How much of this do you think I should do?’

  Chapter 26

  Sonny comes to collect me on Tuesday night. We’re heading over to Archie and Matilda’s to get stuck in to a proper Stranger Things marathon after Archie warned Sonny that he and Matilda were on the verge of cracking on without us.

  He was joking. From what Matilda has told me, Archie has been worried about Sonny. He has no idea why his friend has taken another downturn.

  ‘Good evening,’ Sonny says when I open the door to him. He peers past me, cocking his ear to the wall. ‘Is someone here?’

  ‘No, only me and Bertie.’ I awkwardly hop back, trying to avoid trampling on the post scattered at my feet for the second time that day.

  Sonny swoops down to pick it up.

  ‘Oh, thanks.’ I hold my hands out. ‘The phone was ringing when I got home so I rushed in.’

  It was Charles, touching base from the Maldives, lucky sod.

  ‘Hannah C?’ Sonny asks, studying a letter with familiar handwritten scrawl on the front. ‘Who can’t be bothered to write your surname?’

  ‘That’ll be my mother.’ I waggle my hands at him.

  He frowns at what is almost certainly a bill and passes the whole pile over. ‘Charles’s surname is Culshaw too? I thought he was your mum’s brother?’

  ‘Mm? Oh yeah, he is.’

  ‘So—’

  ‘How are you?’ I interrupt. ‘Did you want to fill me in before we head out?’

  He cocks an eyebrow at me, letting me know that he’s onto me, before going along with my change of subject.

  ‘Shall we go through to the living room?’

  The living room is cosy, but it hasn’t been touched in years with its grubby cream walls, worn pale-green carpet and antique furniture. It’s not that Charles can’t afford to do it up – he just doesn’t see the point. He likes the familiarity of his surroundings.

  Sonny walks over to the door that joins to Evelyn’s clinic and presses his ear to the wall.

  ‘Soundproof,’ I tell him, sitting down on the sofa. ‘I used to try to listen in as a teenager.’

  ‘Naughty,’ he murmurs with a smile, taking a seat on the armchair.

  Sonny caught up with Harriet on Sunday. I’ve checked up on him via text, but he said he’d bring me up to date in person.

  ‘She knew something was wrong because I’d asked in advance if Dave could take the kids out. That’s her husband,’ explains.

  He tries to recount the meeting to me succinctly and matter-of-factly so he doesn’t have to relive the experience, but it sounds traumatic even at this surface level. He didn’t go into detail with her about what happened – I don’t know myself – but she was distraught: in floods of tears and reeling from shock.

  She r
emembers the boyfriend in question, of course. The worst thing is, she claims she wasn’t even that into him.

  Sonny blinks rapidly. ‘She said she stayed with him partly because he was so good with me. She thought he was a keeper.’

  I flinch at his bitter, sarcastic words.

  ‘It’s okay.’ He raises a hand to discourage me from going to him. ‘It’s better if I just get it out, if you don’t mind. I think I’m still in shock myself, but I’ll no doubt process it on Friday when Evelyn gets her claws into me.’

  ‘So Harriet told you his name?’

  He nods. ‘I looked him up on the internet yesterday. He’s dead,’ he adds with a shrug.

  ‘Oh God.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He drags his hand across his mouth. ‘I don’t know how to feel about it,’ he mutters.

  Neither do I. On the one hand, I’m glad that the bastard is no longer walking the earth. On the other, he’s stolen every chance Sonny might’ve had of getting justice.

  ‘Do you know what happened to him?’ I ask.

  ‘He was hit by a train about ten years ago. It was in the papers.’

  ‘Shit! Suicide?’

  He swallows and shrugs again. ‘I don’t know. Maybe somebody pushed him. I wish it had been me.’

  ‘I really want to hug you,’ I whisper.

  He stands up. ‘It’s better that you don’t. Come on, let’s go. I need to show you my new car.’

  ‘You’ve got a new car?’ I ask brightly, trying to force cheer while inwardly swallowing the lump in my throat.

  ‘Yep, finally given my poor dad his wheels back.’

  It’s a second-hand sporty Seat Leon, ideal for doing the school run and taking the girls out on excursions. It’s another sign that Sonny is committing to making the UK his permanent residence.

  ‘How are things with Rochelle these days?’ I ask on the way to Archie and Matilda’s.

  ‘Not bad,’ he replies with a nod. ‘We’re getting there.’

  ‘Is she still seeing that guy?’

  ‘Yep. She seems happy.’

  We continue to chat and before I know it, he’s pulling up on Archie and Matilda’s road.

  Archie answers the door to us.

  ‘At long bloody last!’ he yells, ruffling Sonny’s hair and giving him a hug. ‘You all right, mate?’ he asks kindly.

  ‘Yeah, fine,’ Sonny replies, moving past him.

  Archie slaps his back and then gives me a hug. ‘Thank God you’re here,’ he growls in my ear. ‘Matilda needs someone to talk weddings to. There’s only so much I can hear.’

  ‘There’s only so much you’re allowed to hear, you mean,’ Matilda calls out to us. She grins at me as I follow Archie into the kitchen. ‘Wedding dresses,’ she says significantly, pointing at a stack of magazines on the island unit.

  ‘Ooh, have you found something you like?’

  ‘I’ve only had a quick flick through, but I’d love to show you a couple.’

  I eagerly pick up the stack and follow her through to the dining room.

  Later, when we’re ready to resume our television watching, Matilda is insistent on taking the snuggler seat.

  ‘No, no,’ she says, shaking her head adamantly as she settles herself. ‘Archie and I can squeeze onto this. You guys have the sofa.’

  She thinks she’s doing us a favour by giving us more room, but from the quick look Sonny casts me as he sits down, I don’t think I’m alone in my disappointment.

  *

  I’m curled up on my side, leaning against the armrest. We’re about three quarters of the way through Episode Two and I am scared out of my mind. Winona Ryder is screaming, light bulbs are flickering and The Clash’s ‘Should I Stay or Should I Go’ is blaring out of a speaker.

  That last one might not sound terrifying, but trust me, in this context, it is. I will never listen to that song the same way again.

  Sonny reaches over and pulls my feet closer. I look at him, but his eyes are trained on the television.

  Is he trying to still my racing heart? If so, it’s not working. The warmth of his hand is making me feel skittish and his thumb drawing circles on the bare skin of my ankle is incredibly distracting. A monster seems certain to appear imminently on the screen, but my attention has zeroed in on his touch.

  I’ve been craving intimacy with him ever since Saturday night when we stood in his kitchen and held each other. This is still not close enough.

  I sit up and he draws back, perhaps wondering if he’s crossed a line, but then I swivel and lie the other way so my head is resting on his lap.

  His hand slowly collects together the loose strands of my hair and pulls them back from the nape of my neck, and then his thumb brushes my jaw, his fingers gently stroking my neck.

  The pace has changed onscreen – the danger has passed for now – but I’m so jittery, I can barely breathe.

  What is this that I’m feeling? I’ve never experienced it before. It’s been so long since I’ve had any sort of intimacy with anyone. The last person, honestly, was Danielle. And I don’t mean intimacy on a sexual level – it wasn’t like that between us at all – but we were so close. Like, legs entangled, holding hands, tickling backs close.

  Nina and I were never like that, nor Nina and Danielle. Nina didn’t seem to crave touch the way that Danielle and I did.

  But as soon as things got serious between Danielle and Brett, she put walls up. I know she’s uncomfortable about how familiar we were. It’s a big reason for why we’re a bit awkward now.

  A sigh escapes my lips as these thoughts run through my head.

  It’s all very confusing.

  Chapter 27

  On Sunday morning, almost two weeks later, I get a text from Sonny: Are you in? Are you free?

  I reply immediately – Yes! – and race around getting ready.

  He’s been in Amsterdam this past week and had the girls for their first sleepover last night. I have no idea know how they managed to squeeze into his tiny converted studio, but I bet they had fun.

  When the doorbell goes, I decide I’m not going to even try to disguise how happy I am to see him. I’ve missed him.

  ‘Hello!’ I cry as I yank the door open. My face falls.

  There’s not one person on the doorstep, but three. Sonny has brought his daughters.

  ‘Hey!’ he says, but his expression is instantly wary at the sight of my reaction.

  I quickly rearrange my features. ‘Hello, girls! Don’t mind Bertie, she won’t bite.’ She’s pushed past me, wagging her tail and thankfully forgoing her usual barky greeting. Imogen and Natalie are all over her in a flash. I remember Sonny saying they’d love a dog.

  ‘Sorry,’ Sonny murmurs over the noise of their chatter. ‘I thought we might go out in the canoe, but I should have called.’

  ‘Of course you can go out in the canoe. Do you want to come around the back? I’ll get the paddles.’

  ‘I was hoping you’d come with us,’ he says.

  ‘Oh, I . . .’

  His eyebrows pull together. ‘You’ve got other plans?’

  ‘No.’ I’ve already told him I’m free.

  I look past him to his daughters and he turns to see them on their knees, going doolally over the dog. When he meets my eyes again, his smile fades.

  ‘Sorry, I don’t know why I thought you’d be up for it.’

  He thinks I have a problem with spending the day with his children.

  But he doesn’t understand at all.

  ‘I am,’ I decide impulsively, bracing myself. ‘I am up for it.’

  ‘Really?’ Now he seems unsure.

  ‘Yes. We won’t bring Bertie, but I’ll come.’

  He looks relieved. ‘I was hoping to take some pictures – Rochelle’s birthday is on Wednesday; I could use a little help.’

  ‘Sure. Sounds great.’ I feel bad that I’ve made it necessary to reassure him. ‘Shall we take a picnic?’

  ‘I haven’t brought anything, but thought we could go to th
e Orchard afterwards?’

  ‘Perfect. Let me grab a few fun bits for on the boat too. Come in.’

  We file inside, Imogen and Natalie still fawning over Bertie.

  Sonny hesitates. ‘Actually, can I grab my camera from the car first? I’ll be back in a sec.’

  I watch from the kitchen window as he stalks down the footpath, nerves creeping into my stomach at the realisation that I’m alone with his daughters.

  ‘Can we bring her on the boat?’ Natalie asks eagerly, patting Bertie’s stomach – the old madam has put it on full display.

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ I reply regretfully. ‘The last time she came on the boat, she jumped in.’

  Both of the girls’ faces light up with identical looks of glee.

  ‘We could rescue her!’

  ‘Dad said we could go swimming!’

  ‘We could jump in too!’

  These little voices come at me in quick succession. My stomach tightens.

  ‘But she could capsize the boat and your dad’s photography equipment would be ruined.’

  Not to mention how dangerous that could be for them. The thought of them getting caught up in the reeds . . . I shudder.

  ‘But we can come back and get her before lunch,’ I promise over the sound of their protests. ‘You can take her for a walk around the orchard, if you like.’

  ‘Can I hold the lead?’

  ‘Can I?’

  ‘You can take turns,’ I interrupt. ‘We’ll flip a coin to see who goes first.’

  Sonny comes back in at this point, looking from me to his daughters on the floor. ‘All right?’

  ‘Yep. Let me grab those bits.’ I turn around and busy myself in the pantry, trying to take a few calming breaths.

  Sonny pulls the canoe along on wheels while I carry his camera, the girls obediently tucking in between the boat and me.

  Every time a car goes past I tense. What if they step out onto the road? What if a driver misjudges the corner?

  It’s a relief to get to the Meadows. Natalie and Imogen run across the grass, giggling.

  ‘No cricket today,’ I comment, trying to take my mind off the rollercoaster of emotions I’m experiencing.

  ‘Archie has asked me to play next weekend,’ Sonny divulges. ‘A few of the guys are on holiday.’