The Runaway Year

by Shani Struthers

  Joseph continued searching, running up and down the beach, shouting frantically against the wind.

  “Oh, Layla, what am I going to do? I can’t live without him. I can’t. He means everything to me, everything.”

  “Who means everything?” a familiar voice behind them said.

  Startled, both girls swung around.

  “Jim!” said Layla, amazed.

  “Jim!” Hannah sobbed as she disentangled herself from Layla’s arms and threw herself into his instead.

  “Jim!” panted Joseph. “Thank God, you’re all right, mate.”

  “Of course, I’m all right.” He hugged Hannah close.

  “But you went missing!” protested Hannah, taking a step back.

  “Missing? I just fancied a bit of peace and quiet, that’s all. I’ve got a splitting headache, have had all evening. That noise in the pub, it was doing my head in.”

  “You didn’t let me know. I looked everywhere for you.”

  “I told Curtis to tell you where I was going. Didn’t he say?”

  “No, he flaming didn’t,” said Hannah furiously. “And I asked him, too. He’s such a ditz, that boy, sometimes.” The emotions of the past couple of hours had caught up and overwhelmed her. “Christ, Jim, I thought you’d killed yourself. When I saw your jacket and that beer can but not you, I imagined the worst.”

  “Killed myself? Why would I do that?” Jim was hardly able to hide his amusement at the furor his disappearance had caused.

  “Because of what I said earlier, about how things have got to change around here. I thought you might think I was leaving you.”

  “You’re not, are you?” said Jim, a sudden look of worry on his face.

  “No, I’m bloody not. I love you and only you. I would never leave you.”

  Finally she had managed to say the words she had been dying to say all evening. As she did so, she couldn’t resist throwing a quick glance at Joseph. On his face was nothing but relief—relief, she presumed, that at last, after all this time, she was able to let him go.

  “That’s all right, then,” said Jim, capturing her full attention again. “Good job I didn’t go for a swim.”

  Hannah laughed and threw herself back into his arms, holding him tight once more.

  “That song,” she whispered, “it blew me away.”

  “Plenty more where that came from,” he whispered back, “and all inspired by you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  BASKING IN THE SCENE BEFORE HER, Layla snuck a peek at Joseph. He looked happy for them too. She turned back to Hannah and Jim who were still clinging together in the moonlight; it was a few moments before she could tear her gaze away again. When she did, Joseph was looking at her.

  “Joseph…” she whispered, hoping her smile conveyed exactly how she felt inside.

  If she thought he might reciprocate, however, she was disappointed. He simply turned and walked away, disappearing into the distance, his white shirt the only thing marking him as different from the night. Stunned, she could only stare after him.

  Hannah and Jim were too wrapped up in each other to notice her leave. Stuffing her hands into her jean pockets, her shoulders hunched against the cold, she started walking too, but at a deliberately slow pace. The last thing she wanted was to catch up with Joseph. Clearly there was nothing left to say.

  As she reached the headland, she could hear music coming from Mick’s cottage, the sound as jarring to her now as it had been to Alex. All she wanted was to retreat behind four walls, close the door on the world. Then she remembered Penny and Richard would be at home. Another happily reunited couple, if their joined hands had been anything to go by earlier. And although she was as glad for them as she was for Hannah and Jim, it hurt.

  She was right. As she walked into the kitchen, there they were: Richard looking relaxed and content; Penny decidedly anxious.

  “Layla! Thank God! We searched everywhere for Jim but couldn’t find him. What’s the news?”

  Layla quickly put Penny out of her misery.

  “Oh, that’s a relief,” sighed Penny.

  As Layla slumped dejectedly into a chair next to Richard, Penny continued, “So how come you’re not with Joe? I thought you would be.”

  “He’s gone,” she muttered. “I don’t know where.”

  “Without saying anything?” Penny asked.

  A hollow laugh escaping her, Layla replied, “What’s he got to say? To me, anyway. It’s Clare he wants to talk to, by the looks of things.”

  “Clare?” said Penny in obvious frustration. “What’s Clare got to do with it?”

  “Didn’t you see him talking to her in the pub? They were all over each other.”

  Penny looked confused. “Really? Are you sure they weren’t just talking?”

  When Layla didn’t reply, Penny got up and knelt before her. Before she could say another word, however, Richard piped up.

  “Pen,” he said anxiously. “Should you be kneeling like that?”

  “Oh, shut up, Richard. You’re going to drive me mad if you continue like this throughout.”

  “Throughout what?” Layla was puzzled at the sudden change of topic.

  “Oh, well, erm—no point beating about the bush. I’m pregnant,” said Penny with a smile. “I wanted to tell you yesterday, but I couldn’t. Not until I’d told Richard. It wouldn’t have been fair. But I am, just a few weeks, not even a full month, but pregnant, nonetheless.”

  “Oh, Penny.” Layla was genuinely thrilled. “I didn’t even know you were trying.”

  “Nor did I,” Penny laughed.

  “That’s wonderful news,” Layla continued, throwing her arms around her friend. “I’m thrilled for you.” She turned her head sideways to look at Richard, adding, “For you both.”

  “Thanks,” said Penny. She rose to sit on Richard’s lap, and his hands immediately snaked round her still-trim waist. “And we can celebrate later, but you’ve got something to do first. Something you need to do straight away. Go and see Joseph.”

  Layla’s face clouded. “I’ve told you, we have nothing more to say to each other.”

  Penny was adamant. “Trust me, Layla. You have.”

  Irritated by her insistence, by Hannah’s insistence, her mother’s too, she shook her head vehemently. The memory of him retreating from her, abandoning her, was vivid in her mind.

  “Layla…” Penny nudged.

  “No.” Layla’s voice was emphatic.

  A look of surprise crossed Penny’s face, and Layla tried to take solace in it. Sadly, however, there was no solace to be found.

  “That’s a bit final, isn’t it?” said Penny at last.

  “It is final, between me and him, anyway,” replied Layla as she plopped down onto a chair.

  “Ah, so you admit it, there was a you and him?”

  Damn it! Penny was too clever for her own good sometimes.

  Reluctantly, Layla replied, “Sort of. A long time ago.” More determinedly, she continued, “But whatever it was, whatever we had, it was over before it even began.”

  “Layla, it’s not.”

  “Yes, it is.” It was Layla’s turn to insist now. “Besides which, I told you, I don’t know where he is.”

  “Next door, I should imagine. Go and check.”

  “Penny.” Layla could feel a tide of anger rising within her. “You don’t seem to get it, do you? I’m not going anywhere near him. Why the hell would I?”

  “Because…because…” Penny stammered.

  “Because what?”

  “Because you have to!” Penny shouted back.

  The ferocity in her voice astounded Layla. What was wrong with her? Were pregnancy hormones affecting her brain already? Struggling to find the reason behind her insistence, she remembered Joseph and Penny had met on the headland earlier that day. She had already quizzed her about what they had talked about. But had Penny told her everything? Was there something she was holding back? It certainly sounded like it.

&nb
sp; “Penny, do you know something I don’t?”

  “I might do,” Penny replied, annoyingly coy.

  “About Joseph?”

  Penny nodded.

  “And me?”

  “And you.”

  Lunging forward, Layla grabbed hold of her hands across the table between them.

  “What is it, Penny? What did he say? You have to tell me!”

  “No.” Penny was surprisingly immovable. “Ask him yourself.”

  “Penny…” cried Layla in exasperation.

  “No, Layla. Mum’s the word, I’m afraid.”

  Unable to believe Penny could joke at a time like this, Layla tried to call her bluff. “And what if I don’t? What if I just leave without saying another word?”

  Penny was deadly serious again. “Then you’ll be running away. How much longer are you going to keep doing that?”

  Her words rendered Layla silent, stinging all the more because she knew they were right. How much longer was she going to run? And where to? The ends of the earth perhaps? And if something should happen to rock the boat there, what would be her next option? A seat on the first flight to Mars? Soon the entire universe wouldn’t be big enough to hold her. And this something Penny knew that Layla didn’t, maybe it was something good. Something worth staying for. Maybe she’d stay anyway. Trecastle felt more like home than Brighton ever did.

  Pushing her chair back, she said, “Okay, I’ll go and see him.”

  Penny stood too and beamed at her. “You won’t regret it.”

  Praying she was right, Layla turned to go.

  Before she left, however, Penny spoke again. “Remember, Layla, stand your ground.”

  Layla promised she would, even though the ground beneath her felt very shaky indeed.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  LAYLA KNOCKED ON THE DOOR to Joseph’s cottage, but there was no reply. Damn it! Just when she had summoned up the courage to face him, he had disappeared. She was about to return home, perhaps come back later, when she thought she’d try one more thing. As she turned the brass door handle, it clicked open, left unlocked as was the custom around here. A custom she had never grown used to. Perhaps she would in time, if she were staying, that is.

  Should she enter? It felt strange to do so—breaking and entering. Reasoning that there was at least no breaking involved, she continued forward—the need for closure, of one kind or another, giving wings to her feet.

  She was relieved to note the living room was not in complete darkness, two lamps burning steadily away. Beyond the living room lay the kitchen. The door to it was closed, but light was seeping out from under the doorframe. Further evidence Joseph was at home.

  She prepared to knock again, this time on the interior door, to announce her presence. Movement from within, however, stilled her hand. Rooted to the spot, she braced herself.

  “Layla!” yelled Joseph as he opened the door. “Bloody hell! You frightened the life out of me.”

  “Sorry,” she said. She quickly peered beyond him, unable to resist checking whether Clare or one of her giggly friends had followed him home. Seeing the coast was clear, she relaxed slightly.

  Staring at her in confusion, he said, “What do you want?”

  “Well…to see you,” she replied. Isn’t that obvious?

  He doubled back into the kitchen. “I need another drink,” he muttered.

  Taking a deep breath, she followed him in, watching as he went straight to the whisky bottle. He refilled his glass and downed it one, his back to her the entire time. If he had something to tell her, clearly he was in no hurry to do so.

  “Joseph,” she said at last, “I know you spoke to Penny, about us, and I’m sorry…”

  He turned swiftly round to face her. “Don’t be. I’m leaving.”

  The ground, so shaky before, nearly caved in altogether. Surely this wasn’t what she was meant to hear!

  “Penny…she…she never said.”

  “Penny doesn’t know,” he replied before snatching up a letter from the dresser. “This came this afternoon, after I got back from seeing her. Read it. It explains everything.”

  She took the letter from him and tried to do as he said, but, although her eyes dutifully scanned every word, her brain just wouldn’t compute. The word leaving seemed to be shutting down her senses one by one.

  Giving up, she thrust the letter back at him. “You explain. Tell me in your own words.”

  Running his hand through his hair, a gesture she had always found so endearing, he said, “Remember I told you when I was younger I did some work experience in Florence?”

  She did remember. It was the night of the storm.

  “Well, I’ve never lost touch with Paolo, the man who runs the workshop. We’ve been talking on the phone recently, and at his suggestion, I sent him some photos of the work I’ve been doing—not for Hill House. Private jobs. Projects, really. He loved it. This letter is a job offer.”

  “I see,” she said, really not seeing at all. “When do you go?”

  “In January,” he replied quietly. “I’m leaving in January.”

  Layla turned her back to him to hide how devastating his news was to her. She walked over to the kitchen window and looked out. There was no view of the ocean, of Gull Rock. Although they were both out there, there was nothing but darkness, seemingly endless darkness.

  “Layla,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  Almost toppling forward into that darkness, she pulled herself back from the brink. Okay? No, she could not be described as okay. Penny had sent her on a fool’s errand.

  Layla faced him again, the light in the kitchen blinding in contrast to the night. She willed herself not to say the words, not to take the shine off his “good news,” but they fell out of her mouth anyway. “How can you leave? You love it here. You always say you do.”

  “I know.” He took a step closer. “And I do love it here, but Mr. Yeates, he’s a stubborn man. Clare may have forgiven me—she’s hardly left me alone tonight, in fact—but he’s a harder egg to crack, and I don’t want to waste any more time trying.”

  “So it’s my fault you’re leaving,” she said sadly.

  “No, it’s not,” he said, shaking his head. “Even if work was heaving, I couldn’t turn this down. This is my dream, Layla. It has been for years.”

  “And it’s a lovely dream.” She tried to smile. “One worth having.”

  “Layla,” he said, making her name sound strangely like an apology.

  “It’s fine,” she replied, backing away from him, toward the living room door. The urge to run, to escape, was making itself known again. Not next door where she’d be met with expectant faces, but down to the beach, to Gull Rock, her rock—the one constant in all of this. “It’s ironic, that’s all. You’re leaving just when I’ve decided to stay.”

  She yanked the door open only to be surprised as it was slammed shut again, Joseph rushing up behind her and pushing against it.

  “You’re staying?” he said, the heat from his body searing her.

  “I’m staying.” She leaning her head against the wood, grateful for something solid to take her weight.

  Swinging her round, his hands gripping her shoulders, he said, “Why are you staying?”

  “Why do you think?” she said, shrugging him off, tired now, and yes, she had to admit it, extremely pissed off.

  “I don’t know, Layla. That’s just it. I never do with you.”

  “Because of you,” she almost shouted. “Because I love you.”

  “You love me?” he whispered, his eyes wide with surprise. “But you’re marrying Alex!”

  “Marrying Alex? Is that what you think, why you walked away from me?”

  “I’ve reason enough to think it,” he replied, a hint of anger in his voice, she was sure. “He was holding out a ring to you on the headland. You were about to take it.”

  “I was about to tell him to get lost,” she quickly corrected him. “If you’d stuck around, you woul
d have seen me come to my senses.”

  “You’re not marrying him?”

  “No, I’m not,” she confirmed.

  “So why are you sorry?”

  “What?” she said, thrown again.

  “When you first came in, you said you knew that Penny and I had spoken about us and that you were sorry.”

  “Did I?” Layla thought for a moment. “Oh, right…I was going to apologize for taking so long to realize how I felt about you. Ask for another chance. If not now, then perhaps in the future. When I’d proved to you how serious I was. I was going to tell you I couldn’t run anymore. Not from you. What did you think I was going to say?”

  “That you were sorry for not feeling the same way.”

  “Shame you interrupted me, then.”

  His face broke into a glorious smile. “If you love me, I’ll stay.”

  “You’ll stay?” she said, her turn now to be amazed.

  “Of course, I’ll stay. You’re more important than any job.”

  “But it’s your dream.” She shook her head at him.

  “You’re my dream,” he replied, his gaze intent on her.

  She was his dream? No one had ever said that to her before. It made her feel…special, valued. This was everything she had wanted to feel for so long—and could have felt sooner had she not insisted in looking in the wrong place.

  “Layla?” he prompted, shaking her out of her thoughts.

  “You will not stay,” she said, an edge to her voice now. “Not because of me.”

  “Layla,” he entreated, but she stopped him.

  “No, you will go to Italy, to this restoration workshop or whatever you call it, and you will pursue that dream of yours. As for me, well, I’ll write.”

  “You’ll write?” he said, clearly horrified at the prospect.

  “Yeah, but not to you. I’ll write my stories, my book, in Florence.”

  “In Florence?” He was beginning to understand.

  “In Florence,” she replied, smiling.

  “You’d come with me?”

  “Damn right I would.”

  “But, Layla, this job, it’s a labor of love. It’s not brilliantly paid. I don’t even know where I’d live. Some hovel probably. It’ll be a hand-to-mouth existence. I can’t ask you to share in that.”