by Paige Toon
Van looks shocked, and then he slowly hunches forward and buries his head in his hands. He’s lost for words.
Dad made us feel so ashamed about our feelings for each other when we were teenagers that it’s understandably hard to shake the guilt from our shoulders now, even after his apology at the hospital. We’ve bottled up our emotions for years, and although I feel better after confessing to Nick, Van hasn’t had that same opportunity.
‘Van.’ I place my hand on his back. ‘I need you.’
‘What do you want me to do?’ he asks in a low, tortured voice.
‘Can you hold me tonight?’ I find the courage to ask.
He moves to embrace me, but I shake my head.
‘Not here. Upstairs.’
He hesitates and then nods once.
When I come out of the bathroom, Van is nowhere to be seen. I head upstairs and get changed quickly into my vest and PJ shorts before climbing under the covers.
It’s another ten minutes before I hear his footsteps on the stairs. I wasn’t at all sure he was coming.
He appears in my doorway, seeming uncertain. Then he comes in and goes around to the other side of the bed, taking off his suit and tie and unbuttoning his shirt, laying each item of clothing on a chair. He does all of this with his back to me, and then he pulls a T-shirt on over his head and turns and climbs under the covers. Meeting my eyes momentarily, he holds his arm open to me. I snuggle in close and his arm comes around me to pull me into place. He’s so warm and solid, an instant comfort. I breathe in deeply and feel him doing the same, his body gradually releasing tension beneath my palm. Sliding my hand up to his jaw, my thumb traces over his stubble, again and again, until I’m too tired to do it any more. I fall asleep before he does.
In the early hours of the morning, I come to. I’m still in Van’s arms and, as I lie there, pondering the events of yesterday, everything feels oddly unreal. We buried Dad and his loss is incredibly raw, but right now, I don’t feel like crying. I can’t believe I told Nick everything, and he understood, he really did. I feel so much lighter.
Van’s fingers move on my arm, and as I shift back to look at him, he turns on his side towards me. He’s asleep, but his hand comes forward, almost as though it’s seeking out mine. I take hold of it and he stills. A moment later, his eyes open. He blinks, his gaze coming into focus as we stare at each other.
I don’t know how many seconds pass – twenty, thirty, forty – but we reach for each other at the same time. Our mouths come together and our legs entwine, our arms slipping around each other’s waists and pulling us closer. Our kiss, at first gentle, becomes more passionate. I’m hungry for him.
He flips me onto my back and pins my wrists to the mattress above my head. But my legs are free and they hook around his waist, pulling him against me.
He wants this as much as I do…
We gasp into each other’s mouths as he rocks against me. Then he releases my wrists and my hands fly to his T-shirt, bringing it up and over his head. He makes short work of my vest top in turn and then my thumbs hook under the waistband of his boxers.
‘I don’t have anything,’ he pants, pressing his forehead hard against mine. ‘I can’t have two children on opposite sides of the world.’
It’s a sharp, painful reminder that he will be leaving soon. It’s already going to hurt so much and this will undoubtedly make the pain more acute. But how can we stop this now? We’ve been hurtling towards this point for half of our lives.
‘I’m on the pill,’ I whisper.
His lips return to mine.
When we’re both naked, he laces our fingers together. I didn’t close the curtains last night and downriver the sun is rising. In the grey morning light seeping in through the windowpane, night-sky eyes lock with mine. And then we connect, our two bodies finally – finally – coming together as one.
It’s so beautiful, I see fireworks.
Van has already left with Nick by the time Ellie arrives. Everything still feels surreal – losing Dad, last night with Van, the fact that I’ve resolved to tell my oldest friend the secret that I’ve carried with me for so long. I can hear myself babbling, asking her about work and her love life and what she’s been up to. I think she’s a little freaked out, probably worrying that I’m in denial because I’m certainly not the lost, vacant girl I was at the pub yesterday.
‘Are you okay?’ Ellie asks eventually.
I try to take a deep breath, but my lungs won’t inflate. ‘I have to tell you something.’
Her expression is a mix of anticipation and alarm. She’s waiting.
I swallow, my face prickling uncomfortably. ‘Van,’ I say. ‘Van and I. We’re in love.’
When I’ve finished telling her everything, she sighs. ‘I can’t say I’m surprised.’ Her statement makes my face burn. ‘I don’t mean I’d guessed,’ she hastily puts me straight. ‘I can’t believe how well you hid it. I meant I’m not surprised because he’s super hot. I fancied him, too. I would’ve told you if Brooke hadn’t been so flipping vocal about staking her claim. Sorry,’ she says penitently, even as I laugh. ‘I don’t know why I admitted to that. Jesus, Nell!’ she exclaims abruptly. ‘You have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing. I don’t believe your dad was ever disgusted at the two of you. He felt betrayed, that’s all. You and he were so close, then you went behind his back and had this huge secret. I’ve always thought of Van as your best friend – much more so than your brother. To be honest, I used to get a bit jealous about the connection you guys had. You should be straight about it from here on in. Tell people that this is how it is. Don’t feel embarrassed. You’re a couple of adults who lived in the same house for a while as children. You’re not doing anything wrong. And from the sounds of it, your dad wanted you to be happy with Van.’
‘What about when he goes home?’ I ask, reaching for a tissue.
Her features grow serious. ‘I don’t know. But you’ll find a way to make it work.’
How?
Ellie has left by the time Nick and Van return. Nick doesn’t come in and I’m glad – I’ll see him later when I collect Luke. I’m bringing him home for the rest of the week.
I wait in the hall, fidgeting as I listen to Nick and Van saying goodbye and the sound of the gate closing. Van opens the door with his key and comes into the hall, halting in his tracks at the sight of me.
His pupils dilate as he comes towards me, but I stay where I am, reaching up to push my fingers through his dark hair. It’s damp and cold and he smells of the ocean. He lifts me in his strong arms and carries me upstairs to my bedroom. We’ve got some major catching up to do.
Days later, we go to Kynance to watch Van’s final sunset. I’ve returned Luke to Nick as I’m driving Van to the airport first thing. He’s taking his mother’s artwork home with him, but he promises he’ll be back.
We don’t know when that will be, or whether I’ll be the one to go and visit him next time. We each only just about make do when it comes to finances, but somehow we’ll find a way to see each other, and we’ve promised to speak as much as we can. Thank goodness for the invention of Skype – at least we’ll be able to look at each other’s faces. But we’re not kidding ourselves – we know it’s going to be hard.
Van has missed Libby dreadfully, made even more intense by having little Luke with us over the last few days. Our time together has also been incredibly poignant because Dad’s loss is still so raw, but we’ve somehow managed to experience moments of pure joy.
Parking up on the cliff, we walk down the steep dirt track to the beach, stepping aside regularly for people coming back up. The tide is on its way in and everyone is going home. We’ll have to be quick if we don’t want to get cut off ourselves.
There are worse things than being stuck on a deserted beach for hours, but I’m not so selfish as to make Van miss his flight, although the idea is tempting. We have half an hour at most, so I suggest he sets a timer on his watch in case we lose track of time, which is perf
ectly likely.
There are still a few stragglers when we reach the cove, but we do our best to ignore them, climbing up onto the rock where we shared our first kiss. Van smiles down at me, his expression bittersweet.
I tell him what I first noticed about his eyes, all those years ago, about how the green and gold splinters in the navy-blue background remind me of a still-life painting of a firework, suspended in a night sky.
He’s amused, but grows serious. ‘I’ve always loved the way you see things. You were born to write.’
I avert my gaze, my insides twisting with regret.
‘It’s not too late,’ he implores. ‘I know you feel that London and a magazine career is lost to you, but your children’s stories are crying out to be written.’
I give him a pointed look.
‘Yes, I’ll do the illustrations,’ he says wearily, grinning when I clap my hands with delight. ‘I can’t say whether they’ll be good enough and you have to promise me – promise me, Nell – that you won’t feel obliged to use them if they’re not, but I’m taking my paint set home with me and I’ll see what I can do.’
I stand on my tiptoes and loop my arms around his neck, pressing my lips to his. He pulls away.
‘The Boatman…’
I sigh, my giddiness dispelling. ‘It’s easy.’ I mean the work, the hours, the childcare situation, everything.
He shakes his head. ‘That’s not a good enough reason. You should look for a publishing job in Cornwall – there must be some down here, too.’
‘Come on, Van!’ I snap, feeling annoyed as I take a step away from him. He’s on another planet. ‘How am I going to do that? I’m thirty and I don’t have any experience. Can you imagine how tough it would be to land a job here? How few and far between those sorts of jobs would be? Can you imagine how competitive the market is? It’s not like I can work my way up from the bottom or start out doing work experience. I need the money! I can’t work for free, and even if I could do evening shifts at The Boatman to earn a wage, where would that leave me with seeing Luke? I’m his mother and that comes before anything else. It’s not going to happen,’ I state adamantly.
He sighs, sinking into despondency. But then a thought comes to him. ‘What about a bookshop?’ he asks. ‘That one in Falmouth yesterday had a sign up saying they needed help. You’d be working surrounded by books every day and feeling more inspired. It would be a step in the right direction, surely? And you never know, if – sorry, when – your Fudge and Smudge stories are written, you might have a few contacts, a chance to get the books out on the shelves. It’s only an idea, but worth considering?’
I cock my head to one side, before nodding and smiling at him. ‘Okay. I’ll pop into the bookshop in the next few days.’
‘Tomorrow,’ he commands.
‘I’m taking you to the airport!’
‘On your way home.’
I shake my head, my nose prickling. ‘I’ll be distraught.’
‘Oh, Nell,’ he murmurs. ‘That’s exactly why you should go. It’ll take your mind off it. Promise me,’ he urges.
I try to kiss him but he holds me back.
‘Promise.’
I nod, tearfully. ‘I promise.’
As our lips meet, his watch timer goes off. A sob catches in my throat as we break apart.
Up on the cliffs, we settle down to watch the sunset. It’s one of the most breathtaking I’ve ever seen and I know that I’ll remember this moment with Van forever. We stay there on the damp grass until the sky turns grey and then black, and then we go back to the cottage to make love to each other for the last time.
I haven’t been able to bring myself to think about the logistics, other than the fact that we will speak on the phone as much as we can, but in the silence of the night, I feel cold with fear. How can we make this work? Van can’t live without Libby and I can’t live without Luke. I’d never take my son away from his father – I couldn’t move to London, let alone Australia – and there’s no way Sam will ever let Libby emigrate with Van. Van wouldn’t want to take Libby from her mother, even if he could. He didn’t have a relationship with his own father until he was ten years old, and look at how that came about. He’ll do everything he can to spare Libby that sort of pain.
I am in love with someone who is rooted to his daughter and a country on the other side of the world and there is no getting away from that fact.
I can feel our happy ending slipping away.
It’s devastating.
Thirty-Five
‘Stop right there.’
‘You scared the life out of me!’ I exclaim as Ed Allister, my boss, pulls me to one side on the pavement, making room for others to pass. ‘What’s wrong?’
He grins, his brown eyes merry. ‘Nothing’s wrong. I just had to be here to see it.’
‘See what?’
He nods ahead to Dragonheart – the bookshop that he owns and that has been my primary place of work for the past five years. My brow furrows quizzically at him and then my eyes widen with delight and anticipation.
‘Have they arrived?’ I gasp, rushing ahead before he can answer. I clap my hands over my mouth and stare in at the window display that Ed must’ve come in early to set up. He already has his phone out and is clicking off pictures of my face. I burst out laughing, beside myself.
I can’t believe it. There they are – in the window – a whole stack of them. Several books face outwards: small hardbacks with rich cream covers and Fudge and Smudge sitting on the crab-apple tree, their tan faces looking exceptionally mischievous and their pointy ears almost as high as their hats. I do a little jig on the spot and then turn and throw my arms around my boss.
‘I’m so proud of you,’ he mutters in my ear before pulling away.
‘Thank you,’ I whisper, overcome with emotion. ‘I wish Van were here to see them.’
‘He’ll be here soon enough,’ he replies gruffly, patting my back as we head into the building.
I work in the very same children’s bookshop in Falmouth that Van encouraged me to visit to enquire about a job. The weird thing is – and I think this is properly weird – I’d met Ed, my boss, before.
I’d been into this shop several times, browsing with Luke, so that’s why I thought he seemed familiar when I came in to ask about a job. But the more we spoke to each other, the more perplexed he became.
‘I feel like I’ve met you before,’ he said, scratching his head and making his milk-chocolate hair look even scruffier than it already did.
‘Me too!’ I exclaimed, glad it wasn’t just me. ‘I work at The Boatman. Have you been in there?’
‘Is that a pub?’ he asked.
‘Yes, in Helford, right on the river.’
He looked thoughtful. ‘I know the pub you’re talking about, but I haven’t been there in years. I only moved from London a few months ago.’
‘Really? Where in London did you live?’
‘Chiswick.’
‘No way! That’s where I grew up! Well, until I was seven. I came to live with my dad when my mum moved abroad. What made you decide to relocate?’
I remember feeling very at ease, talking to him. It didn’t feel like I was being interviewed for a job; it felt like I was chatting to an old friend.
‘I used to come as a child,’ he revealed. ‘Had a couple more holidays here during my twenties and caught the bug. My wife and I needed a change of scene so we decided to buy this place.’ He looked around whimsically.
‘Bastian,’ I whispered, as it hit me. ‘The boy from The NeverEnding Story…’
He gave me a funny look.
‘You’re Edward!’ I cried. ‘I’m Nell! Don’t you remember? Your mum and dad stayed in a cottage up in Mawgan. You came to my house after we’d caught a duckling!’
The look on his face – it was brilliant. He completely lit up, a dimple springing into place on his cheek and making him look super sweet, even at his age, which I seemed to recall was more or less the same as mi
ne. ‘Of course I remember!’ he exclaimed. ‘I can’t believe this. Nell! I thought about you for years!’ His face fell as a memory came back to him. ‘Your mum…’
I shook my head. ‘She wasn’t my mum. She was my dad’s girlfriend. But, yeah.’ I nodded, looking down. ‘It was tragic.’
He offered me the job that same day.
‘I hope you’re celebrating tonight,’ Ed says at the end of our shift.
‘I wish. No, Nick’s taken Luke camping, so it’ll just be me, myself and I.’ I can’t even speak to Van as it’s the middle of the night in Australia.
‘Why don’t we go for dinner?’ Ed asks.
‘Really?’
‘Sure. Come on, it’s Saturday. We’ll raise a toast.’
‘Okay.’ I grin at him. Doesn’t take much to persuade me.
He lives in Falmouth, but suggests going somewhere local to me so that I can drop my car home first – he’ll drive so I can drink. We park in Helford and catch the small ferryboat across to the pub on the other side. It’s a lovely summer’s evening and the lower deck is drenched in sunshine. Ed goes inside to get our drinks, returning with a glass of Prosecco for me and a beer for himself.
‘To Fudge and Smudge,’ he says, and even though his eyes are hidden behind dark sunglasses, I know they’re smiling. ‘And you and Van, obviously,’ he adds with a grin. ‘Here’s to the first of many more books to come. Cheers.’
‘Thank you,’ I say with heartfelt gratitude as he chinks my glass. ‘If it hadn’t been for you…’
He waves me away and sips his beer. ‘You guys would’ve done it no matter what.’
Ed’s father and his younger brother – the brother his mother was pregnant with when we first met – own and run a small publishing company in London. Through them, Ed has contacts in the industry, and he helped Van and me submit our stories to publishers. We had interest from three, but decided to go with Ed’s family business. His dad, Simon, and brother, Jamie, were as enthusiastic about the books as Ed was, so it felt right.
I couldn’t believe it when we were offered those book deals nine months ago. I can picture Van’s face clearly when I told him on FaceTime – he was gobsmacked. He kissed the screen! What I wouldn’t have given to be able to tell him in person, but it was the best we could do.
