‘No problem,’ I say, draining the last of my coffee. The distraction is most welcome.
***
‘Morning, Sam.’ Zac’s smile is a welcome relief. I know he’s already told me that Ethan is giving me a wide berth, but I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d be there anyway. I suppose seeing Ethan unexpectedly is what I’ve come to expect. My insides feel heavy.
‘Morning, Zac.’ I greet him with a hug, which I realise too late might be a little over-familiar for someone I hardly know. Is there such thing as familiarity by proxy? ‘We’re heading to the cycle paths to film, and I’ve no idea how these guys are going to transport all of their equipment. I don’t think we’ve properly thought this through.’
‘No problem. We have some cargo trailers that attach to the bikes. I can fix you up with a couple of those.’
‘Perfect.’
Zac goes off to arrange trailers. The models, film crew and Patrick are all outside choosing bikes and giving it far too much thought, with the exception of Patrick, who already has a black one. I want to shout to the new, moody-looking model that the pink one definitely brings out her cheekbones, but there’s a chance she’ll think I’m being serious. I should be out there doing the same, but the peacefulness of the shop is too alluring. I wander along the compact aisles, absentmindedly looking at the bike accessories until I’m back at the till. A photo above the door to the back office stops me dead. It’s Zac, Ethan and their father on a boat, hugging. They’re the picture of happiness. In the photo, Ethan’s hair is short and tidy, Zac isn’t quite the man-mountain he is now, and their father has fewer creases on his face, but each one of them is beaming with joy. Their happiness is so real it practically leaps out from the picture. It must have been before …
‘Are you ready?’ Patrick shouts from the doorway.
‘Coming.’
When I step outside, they’re all ready and waiting to go. ‘Here’s our number,’ Zac says, handing me a business card. ‘I’m not expecting to be too busy today, so call if you need anything. Otherwise, I’ll see you later. But there’s no rush to be back for five – if I’m gone just leave everything outside. It’ll be safe.’
‘Okay, thanks.’ I smile and take the card. ‘See you later.’
‘Nice guy,’ Patrick says when we’re on our way. Once we hit the trail, the sound of the surf and the cool morning breeze makes conversation impossible, and it isn’t long before my mind refocuses on that picture in the office. Something is bugging me about it. It could be because I understand Ethan’s pain and why he never smiles like that now, but I think it’s something else. It’s the family thing. A sharp pain penetrates my chest, and before I can stop it, an image of my own parents pops into my head. Both cuddly, with slightly ruddy cheeks and wayward hair, always dressed in bargain something-or-others that they’ve got from the central aisle in Aldi or ordered from the back of a Sunday magazine. Always holding hands. Always smiling. The memory is filled with warmth. I haven’t thought about my parents fondly for a long time and the happy memory sends a stab of guilt through my stomach. If losing Kev and learning about Nicole has taught me anything, it’s that our loved ones can be gone in a flash. Ethan was right, it’s time to make amends.
As if on cue, my foot slips off the pedal and smacks me in the shin. ‘Jeezus!’ I yell.
‘You okay?’ one of the film crew asks. There’s no obvious concern in his tone.
‘Yeah,’ I say, forcing a smile through the smarting pain.
I deserved it. My parents used to smile all the time. People always described them as ‘jolly’. I can’t imagine what my leaving did to them. I’m a horrible, horrible person. All they’ve ever wanted was the best for me. Sometimes they were just too much. I was a grown adult and they still couldn’t let me make my own decisions. Perhaps I did overreact to the whole Kev thing but I was so angry at the time because I felt betrayed. They’d welcomed him into their lives then said all those things behind his back.
‘We’ll set up here,’ Patrick says. He’s picked a great spot. It’s a part of the trail where you can see the sea and grassy sand dunes. The camera crew start to unload the equipment, and the make-up artist starts daubing translucent powder on the two models’ faces to get rid of the shine. I sit on a grassy dune, knowing that my presence for the next few hours will be largely unnecessary.
After a few hours of retakes of different angles, poses and positions, I offer to cycle back into town to pick up some bottled water. As I cycle to the little shop, I can’t help thinking about my parents and what I’ve done to them and, on a whim, pick up a postcard. When I’ve dumped the bottles of water in my bike basket, I sit on the wall of the church and take out a pen.
Dear Mum and Dad,
I stare at the words. They look so unfamiliar, so odd. I haven’t said the words ‘Mum and Dad’ in eight years, choosing to just write ‘Sam’ at the bottom of any Christmas or birthday cards and I certainly haven’t sent any postcards. I tear the card in half and dump it in a nearby bin before heading back to the shoot.
Chapter 27
‘So, have you had a chance to consider my offer?’ Patrick’s question comes as soon as I hand him his bottle of water, and it throws me. My head has been filled with Ethan and, strangely, my parents.
‘Patrick, I’m so sorry. There’s a lot to consider, and with the trip and everything, I’ve not had the chance to fully weigh it up. It’s a great offer, it really is …’
‘Look.’ He pats me firmly on the back. ‘Take your time. It’s a big decision.’
‘Thanks.’
I sit back down and still not tired of the excitement of being on a film set, take in the scene. I don’t know how the models and actors do it. The same movements over and over again, with chants of ‘Let’s try that again’ and minor tweaks every five minutes. I must admit, being here, in this life that’s so far removed from the life I’d planned, is exhilarating. When Kev and I were together, designing fliers for local businesses was what I loved – it paid the bills, didn’t stress me out, and I was happy; my ambition extended only to having a family and juggling everything that would bring. It wasn’t until I got the job at Pink Apple that I saw how far I could take myself in marketing. Once again, I felt fulfilled, bar the niggling ambition to make the US team. I should be proud of myself; I am proud, and if I’m honest with myself, I would love to live over here. What’s not to love? The scenery, the fact they have proper seasons, being so close to the beaches. What am I really leaving behind in London? My pokey flat? Of course, there are my friends, the number of whom I could count on one hand even if I lost two of my fingers in a terrible accident, but they would only be a Skype chat away. Besides, now Bridget is married, the likelihood is I won’t see as much of her.
When I simmer it all down to the really sticky residue of truth, it’s Ethan. I know how crazy it sounds – it’s the complete opposite of why most women wouldn’t want to move away. Most women would hate to leave behind a man they liked. The truth is, he’s in my head, filling up all the free space that work doesn’t occupy. I see his face, I replay his conversations over and over, and I can still feel the heat of his lips on mine. The space he takes up in my head is growing too, forcing his way into all the little cavities, firing up neurons I didn’t know existed. I’m worried that soon there will be no room for any other thoughts.
Anyway, the conclusion is the same: I can’t let a man get in the way of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, because, well, nobody should ever do that, so I at least need to give the move some serious thought.
Once we’re all packed up and ready to go, we set off on our bikes. It’s almost dusk; we finished just before we lost the natural light. We’re all weary, grimy and thick with the heat of the day. I can’t wait to have a cool shower and an early night. The film crew go on ahead, and Patrick and I set off after them. Cycling in the open air sure beats the stuffy tube as a way to commute. There’s something so free about it. It’s a similar feeling to the one I get on the to
p deck of the ferry when the wind blows my hair.
All of a sudden, there’s a mighty bang and my bike stops dead, propelling me off the seat and over the handlebars. Everything happens in slow motion. I’m aware I’m flying. I’m aware I’m going to crash into the trailer of the suddenly, inexplicably stationary bike in front at any second, and I’m aware it’s going to hurt.
‘Ouch.’ There it is. The edge of the metal rim cracks both of my shins, and my chin hits the back seat of the bike, knocking my head backwards. My neck bends unnaturally, sending a sharp pain down my back. It takes me a second to realise what’s going on. My hands are clutching the sides of the trailer, and my knees are inside, on top of a metal equipment case, whilst my bike lies in a heap on the floor.
‘Are you okay?’ one of the female crew members says. I look up at her and realise she’s not talking to me, but rather the woman on the bike, whose abrupt braking caused me to crash into her, and whose trailer I’m now in.
‘Sam, are you okay?’ Patrick is already by my side, helping me up.
‘I don’t know what happened. She just stopped.’ My voice is shaky.
‘Here, sit down.’ He eases me onto the grass by the side of the path. ‘Where does it hurt?’
‘Everywhere.’ I’m aware that I sound a bit whiny, but it does. ‘I’ll be okay. You go on ahead. I’ll just sit for a minute.’
‘Okay, we have somewhere to be,’ the unsympathetic film crew lady says. I give a wave accompanied by a sharp, sarcastic smile. I was talking to Patrick anyway.
‘I’m not leaving you. Your chin looks like it’s going to bruise, and your legs are a mess.’
‘I’ll be okay.’ They’re a bit battered and bloody, but I don’t think anything is broken.
‘You can’t ride your bike back.’ We both look at the crumpled heap of metal. The front wheel is so badly buckled that I realise Patrick is right. ‘I’m calling Zac.’
‘No, there’s no need. I can push it back; it’s not that far.’
‘It’s far enough.’ He’s already dialling, and I feel like an idiot.
‘The shop will be closed now,’ I say, remembering Zac’s instructions to just leave the bikes outside if he’s shut up for the day.
‘I have his cell phone number.’ He turns away and paces as he waits for someone to answer. ‘Hey, Zac …’ He steps just out of earshot, and I can only hope that he’s not telling Zac some mistruth about how I can’t ride a bike.
‘He’s going to bring a pick-up,’ Patrick says, sitting down beside me.
Great! A full-scale rescue.
‘I never did apologise for kissing you that night at the Japanese place.’ Patrick’s gaze is fixed on the grassy dunes ahead.
I feel my cheeks flush. ‘It’s water under the bridge.’
He sucks the air through his teeth. ‘I know. I just really respect you and I want you to consider the job offer without thinking that I only offered it to you because I like you. I respect your work above all.’
Patrick likes me? ‘Thank you. It’s nice to hear that you respect my work. Especially after our rocky start.’
He flashes me a smile. ‘I mean it. I’m a complete professional and kissing you was wrong. I got carried away in the moment and the drink.’
‘It’s fine. Let’s forget about it.’
He rubs his hand down the side of his face. ‘I just hope this means you can consider the job offer without wondering about any ulterior motive. There isn’t one, I promise.’
It takes a lot to admit you made a mistake and I think I’m developing a deeper level of respect for Patrick. He’s actually a really nice guy and I think we could work well together if I was planning to stay.
‘I’ll consider it on a professional level.’
We fall into silence and it seems like we’re sat for ages in an awkward bubble by the time we hear someone approaching.
My chest clenches when I see him. ‘Ethan?’ He’s dressed in a black vest and grey sweat shorts.
‘Hi, Sam.’ There’s a long pause. As we stare at each other, my stomach does unusual things and I hate it. ‘Cindy isn’t well. I told Zac to go home.’ His tone is flat.
‘As you can see, there was an accident.’ Patrick steps between us. ‘Pink Apple will pay for the damage to the bike.’ I grit my teeth. We shouldn’t be paying for the damage; the stupid film company should.
‘It’s fine. Let’s just makes sure Sam is okay.’ His voice is deep and thick but his tone is short and he looks coldly at Patrick. It reminds me of the way he looked at me back in Boston. Oh god, I bet Barney has told him Patrick and I kissed.
Ethan slides his bag off his shoulder and crouches in front of me. ‘Let’s just take a look at the damage to your legs.’
He lifts my left leg and examines it. ‘You’re going to have a nasty bruise there. Let me clean these cuts up.’ He rummages in his bag and starts unpacking antiseptic wipes and all kinds of other things.
‘Patrick, you don’t need to wait for me. It’s been a long day.’ He’s hovering around like a spare part, and him being here serves no purpose.
He rubs his face. ‘I should see you get back to the hotel alright.’
‘I’ll be fine.’
Patrick glances warily at Ethan and back to me. ‘Only if you’re sure.’
‘It’s okay, I know Ethan. We’re friends.’ My eyes lock on Ethan’s as I say it, and they seem heavy under his furrowed brow.
‘I could do with calling the office, and I have some things to go over from today …’
‘Then go, honestly. Once Ethan’s cleaned me up I’ll be fine to walk back.’
‘I’ll sort the bicycle out,’ Ethan says. Hearing his voice reminds me that his hand is still on my leg, and now that I’ve thought about it, it’s all I can think about – my skin beneath his warm touch.
‘Okay, don’t let her lug that thing back.’ I open my mouth to protest Patrick’s instruction, but he continues talking. ‘She’ll insist, but don’t let her.’
‘I know she can be a little stubborn,’ Ethan says.
‘Excuse me! I’m right here.’ They both look at me as though they’d forgotten.
‘Okay, I’m going.’ Patrick picks up his bike and waves before climbing on and cycling back towards the town.
‘I’m going to dress these cuts, and then do you think you’ll be able to walk to my pick-up at the end of the path?’
‘Yes, of course. It’s just cuts and bruises.’
Ethan cleans me up. It stings like hell, despite the obvious care he’s taking not to hurt me – even though he’s obviously upset with me. He dabs the cuts gently until the sandy grains that have embedded themselves in my shins have gone.
‘Some of the cuts are pretty deep,’ he says, unwrapping a bandage.
‘The edge of the metal trailer I bashed into was quite sharp.’
He places a pad over the cuts and starts to wrap my left shin up tightly. I watch the movement of his bronzed, firm shoulders as he works.
‘Next,’ he says, placing my left leg down and picking up my right.
I let the silence go on as he tackles the next lot of cuts. There’s so much I want to say to him, but so much I shouldn’t. I appreciate that he’s keeping things strictly first aid.
Ouch. I wince as he catches a sensitive spot.
‘Sorry, almost done.’
‘It’s okay. Crashing the bike wasn’t the first time I banged that shin today, so it’s particularly sore. I think me and bikes are a bad match.’
He doesn’t acknowledge me.
When he’s finished bandaging my right leg, he stands up and holds out a hand. ‘All done.’
I take his hand and he yanks me up. Once my full weight is on my legs, sharp pains shoot up my shins and I double over.
‘Here, let me help you.’ He tucks his strong, firm arm under my own to support me.
I force a laugh. ‘I didn’t expect that to hurt quite so much.’
‘You’ve probably bruised the bone.
C’mon, let’s get you back.’ He scoops up my bike with his other arm and hangs the frame over his shoulder, and we start to shuffle along.
‘So, you’re back in town?’ he says after a hundred metres or so. Has he been wanting to see me as much as I’ve wanted to see him?
‘Yep.’ He already knows why I’m here, so there’s no point explaining.
‘It’s good to see you.’ The raw honesty in his tone makes my stomach flip.
‘You saw me yesterday.’
‘You know what I mean.’ He gives me a little nudge, which makes me smile.
‘It’s good to see you too.’
We don’t speak again until his blue pick-up truck is in sight. He tosses the bike in the back and hoists me up into the passenger seat.
‘Can we talk?’ he says once he’s climbed in the driver’s side.
My chest clenches. I’m not really sure what there is to say. We both know where we stand. ‘What do you want to talk about?’
‘It feels like we have unfinished business.’
So much for respecting my choice. I remain silent.
‘I’ve tried to respect you because I thought we had a connection that you couldn’t deal with. I was okay with you wanting to keep your distance.’
When he pauses, I don’t reply.
‘I even understood when you ran off, but then I see you on Instagram looking cosy with that guy Patrick, who you apparently kissed! How is that supposed to make me feel?’
‘Are you going to start the engine?’ I say impatiently. My head has started to spin. I thought I had everything under control.
His hands curl around the steering wheel and his knuckles turn white. ‘Do you do this to everyone you ever meet or just guys who like you?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Push them away.’
‘I’m not pushing you away. I just don’t want to encourage you and end up hurting you.’
‘Damn it.’ He bangs the steering wheel, and I jump. His face fills with regret. ‘Sorry, you’re just driving me crazy.’
‘The Patrick thing was nothing, just a drunken kiss that meant nothing and you know that social media isn’t real. It was a few pictures to generate likes for the business. The kiss with you did mean something and that’s what’s so hard to deal with.’ My heart aches and I don’t really know what to say. I thought he understood. He’d told Zac as much anyway. ‘I’m trying to be upfront with you, Ethan. Why are you wasting your time with me?’
A Summer to Remember Page 17
