When I Knew You

by KE Payne

  “Are you leaving?” Nat asked.

  “Sure looks like it.”

  “But…Livvy’s letter? Her wishes?”

  “Do you really think,” Ash said, speaking slowly and clearly, “that I seriously want to spend another second in your company?” She walked to the door. “I’m surprised I managed even this long with you today. You think I want to spend time with you, pretending like we’re best buddies?”

  “But—”

  “It’s not happening, Nat.” Ash placed her hand on the door handle. “I couldn’t bear the pretence in front of Chloe.” She held Nat’s gaze. “Could you?”

  “If it meant honouring Livvy’s wishes.”

  “So sanctimonious.” Ash slowly shook her head. “Always so sanctimonious.”

  “But you can’t just ignore these letters.” Nat waved a hand towards them.

  “Who said I’d ignore them?” Ash opened the door and called to Judy. “I’ll fulfil Livvy’s wishes on my own,” she said, lowering her voice as Judy came out from the kitchen. “I’ll take Chloe to all the places in these envelopes, and I’ll do it just like I’ve had to do everything else in my life. On my own.”

  Chapter Three

  The Tube back into London was a total nightmare. Nat sat in her grubby carriage, staring vacantly at the faces around her and fiddling with the now well-worn leather bracelet she wore on her left wrist, wondering why it was no one on the Tube ever made eye contact with their fellow travellers. Ever. She’d often thought, on her daily commute up and down through London, that life in the capital would be so much more pleasant if people would just, on occasion, smile at one another.

  Nat glanced across at a young man sitting opposite her, his fluorescent jacket with its blue company logo on it caked in mud, and wondered what he’d been doing all day to get so muddy. Builder? Railway worker? As she was staring, he looked up and caught her eye. She smiled, getting a sullen glare in return. She looked away again.

  Feeling embarrassed at being caught staring like a nosy child, and wanting to draw attention away from herself, Nat fished in her bag, pulling out Livvy’s letter. Her letter from the grave. Nat shivered, pushing that particular thought away. She gazed down at Livvy’s writing, remembering how things used to be between them all. How good it had all been. How much fun they’d all had together before she’d messed it all up because she, Nat bloody Braithwaite, had sucked up all her parents’ words like a sponge and had decided being with Ash was more trouble than it was worth.

  And why? Because her parents had made her believe that her friends—Nat raised her gaze to the ceiling of the train—would stop her from realizing her dreams. And Ash, Nat had decided, would be the one friend who would most definitely hold her back from achieving the only thing she’d ever wanted to do since she’d been a small child.

  Nat blinked, clearing the tears that were prickling the backs of her eyes.

  Her career back then was more important than anything else. Or anyone else. According to her parents’ doctrine, anyway. Nat had been drawn in by their insistence that in order to succeed, certain ties had to be severed, starting with Ash and Livvy. Nat should focus, they said, on her studies, and not be swayed by her giddy friends. Ash certainly had been giddy. Talking about how much fun university was going to be. How wasted they’d be, how they could all finally let their hair down once they’d escaped their boring suburban lives.

  Nat didn’t want to be giddy, or to get wasted. She wanted more than that. Nat wanted to be someone. Her parents had drummed that into her from an early age: Nat was special. Nat was going places, so that meant when it came to the crunch, there would be no more mucking about, like they’d done at school. If Nat was to become the successful surgeon that her parents, no, that she’d aspired to be all her life, then she’d have to knuckle down and sacrifices would have to be made. It had all sounded so plausible back then.

  But it had been painful. Far more painful than Nat had ever imagined, and she’d thought over the years, her timing could have been better. But she’d genuinely believed Ash would understand her reasons for finishing with her; Ash knew what Nat’s parents were like and would see past the hurt and the pain and realize they could both flourish independently if they didn’t each have the responsibility of being in a relationship. And a secret relationship at that. But Nat had been selfish like that back then. Madly in love with Ash but not prepared to tell anyone or to fight for her. She’d just done what she’d always done and listened to her parents as they reinforced in her the determination and drive she’d always had, but had forgotten all the time she’d been free of their demands at school. But she knew medical school would be a whole different ball game and the long hours and focus that would be required of her to achieve her goals made dedicating herself to one person near impossible. Nat convinced herself that being single would be better for both her and Ash—fewer responsibilities, fewer arguments, less guilt.

  That was Nat’s reasoning, anyway. And, perhaps, at the back of her mind she thought she and Ash could pick up where they left off, further down the line. When the hard work had been done and they were both successful doctors. When they were both free of the responsibilities of their studies, and Nat had finally thrown off the shackles of her parents.

  But then Ash had failed her final school exams and had fled to Europe. That hadn’t been the plan, but that had been when the reality of what Nat had done had sunk in; she’d ruined everything, thanks to her selfishness and her inability to stand up to parents who’d had her life mapped out for her before she could even walk. She’d ruined both Ash’s dreams and their friendship. And there was no turning back.

  And now, all these years later, Nat had what she wanted. Her relationship with her parents was strained to the point of minimal contact, thanks to their persistent meddling in her life, an interference Nat had hoped would have stopped when she’d graduated. It hadn’t. Instead, their continued intrusion into her life throughout her twenties had widened the gap between them, leaving them with a civility but not the closeness they’d shared when she was a child. Now, at thirty-five, Nat had no one and nothing in her life except for the impending senior consultant’s job she’d coveted since medical school, and she’d never been so scared in all her life at what her future now held.

  Nat pulled on her bracelet and stared at the blackness beyond the Tube’s windows. Stared into her own blackness. Ash’s past and current hatred served her right. What did Nat expect? She’d sat in Judy Fancourt’s front room and spouted piety about her sacrifices when the only girl she’d ever loved and who Nat had hurt for her own ends was sitting right in front of her. And all for a job which, right now, Nat wasn’t sure she even wanted.

  Ash would never forgive her, not for anything. She’d well and truly broken Ash’s heart all those years ago, not answering her calls, refusing to see her in the days following their breakup.

  Then, one day, Ash had stopped calling. Stopped trying to win Nat round.

  She’d won. Nat had won, and she’d never felt so miserable in all her life.

  ❖

  Nat panted for air as she struggled to keep pace with Maddie, wondering, for the umpteenth time, why she continued to submit herself to the agony of her weekly spin cycling class with her best friend when jogging was much more her thing.

  The sweat that trickled down her chest and plastered her hair to her forehead reminded Nat that the agony ought to be worth it, though. No pain, no gain, was Maddie’s mantra. Lots of pain, very little gain, more like. Nat cast Maddie a look as her legs pounded in circles, edging her ever nearer to the point where she could finally stop.

  “I’m done.” Nat raised her hands and slowed her legs. She sat upright on her seat and tilted her head back, sucking air into her burning lungs, her hands clamped against her tight legs. “Over and out.”

  “Shirker.” Maddie grinned over to her. “You could have done at least another ten minutes.”

  “Not a chance.” Nat shook her head. She eased h
erself from her bike and grabbed her towel, burying her face into it. She breathed in and out slowly, letting her pulse slow with every breath. When she pulled her face from the towel, Maddie was standing next to her.

  “So, want to tell me what’s eating you?” she asked.

  Nat looked at her. “Apart from feeling like I’m going to die, you mean?” she replied.

  “You say that every week.” Maddie wiped her face. “And every week I tell you the same thing.”

  “No pain, no blah, blah, blah.” Nat lifted her hair from her neck and draped her towel round her shoulders, enjoying the feel of the cool material against her skin. “I know.”

  “Something’s bugging you.” Maddie placed her hand on Nat’s arm. “I haven’t been your friend for these last eight years not to notice when you’re not happy.”

  Nat walked to a bench and sat. How much should she tell Maddie? She watched her friend as she finished towelling her face and arms, then came to join her.

  “I’m just…having a hard time again at the moment,” Nat said as Maddie sat next to her.

  “Hard time, how?”

  “There’s a lot going on and I’m not sure I’m handling it all so well,” Nat said. Wasn’t that the truth? The sleepless nights since Livvy’s death, having to cope with the grief of that and the thought that soon enough hers and Ash’s paths were sure to cross, were testament to that. “I’m just a bit wound up.”

  “Work?” Maddie asked. “Life? Love?”

  “Not love.” Nat rolled her eyes. “Definitely not love.”

  “So, work?”

  “I’ve got to the point where I hate work.” It felt good to say it out loud.

  “Just as well you’re leaving then,” Maddie said. “Soon you’ll have an even better job, better apartment. More money than you could ever imagine.”

  “Mm.”

  There had to be more to life than that. Nat rested her head against the cool of the wall. “What if I still hate work when I move to Ireland, though?” she asked.

  “That’ll be new job jitters talking.” Maddie patted her leg. “Everyone gets them. In the weeks running up to my first day in paediatrics, I was a bundle of nerves. Questioning everything. Was I doing the right thing? Would I cope?” She looked at Nat. “It’s perfectly normal to be feeling like this.”

  “There’s something else too,” Nat said.

  “Go on.”

  “I saw Ash yesterday.”

  “Your Ash?”

  My Ash.

  Nat felt a hotness cover her cheeks. She’d always loved the way Ash’s name sounded and hearing it now sent a flood of memories cascading around her. Images teased at the edge of her mind, of her and Ash as carefree teenagers. Back to a time when just a look between them would send them into one another’s arms, to a time of stolen kisses, of heat and passion and declarations of love. Nat balled her hands into fists, chasing the images away.

  “Not my Ash for sixteen years,” Nat finally said. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “But seeing her and talking to her again felt like it was just yesterday we were together.”

  “First loves are like that,” Maddie said.

  “Only loves are like that,” Nat corrected. “Loves that you let get away.”

  “And now seeing her has brought a whole shedload of memories with it?”

  “Memories that I think were never far away,” Nat said. She sighed. “Now Livvy—the friend I just lost to cancer?—well, she’s written to us both. Wants us to hang out together for the next few weeks. Fulfil some wishes she never got to do.”

  “And I’m guessing that’s what’s freaking you out.”

  “Wouldn’t it you?”

  “But that’s the good thing about reconnecting with an ex, isn’t it?” Maddie said. “Having the chance to reminisce?”

  Nat shook her head. “Ash hates me,” she said. “She’s flatly refusing to have anything to do with it if I’m involved.”

  “Mature.”

  “I can’t blame her.” Nat would never blame Ash for any of her actions. After all, hadn’t Nat been the one who had put all the hate into Ash in the first place? “I wouldn’t want anything to do with me either if I was in her shoes.”

  “You know what you should do?” Maddie said.

  “Hit me.”

  “Call her. Ash. Shame her into doing it by telling her you’re not doing it without her.”

  “I already thought I ought to do that.”

  God knew, Nat had spent far too much time over the last forty-eight hours staring out of her window in her office wanting to contact Ash. She knew Ash had left Judy her phone number; it would be so easy, wouldn’t it, to call Judy and ask her for it. But each time, something had stopped her.

  “Then do it,” Maddie urged.

  “But I’m scared all this will just dredge up the past again.” Nat shook her hand, making her bracelet fall down her wrist, then stared at it. “I’ve already had to make an extra appointment with Callum.” She sensed her cheeks flushing again. “Felt I needed it, you know?”

  “You need to see your therapist again so soon?” Maddie asked. “Because of Ash?”

  Nat was touched by the look of concern on Maddie’s face but knew she’d done the right thing, wanting to see Callum.

  “Because of everything,” Nat replied. “Ash, work. Me.” She cut her glance away. Nat’s CBT sessions had been a godsend since the day she’d woken up and decided she was unable to cope with life quite as well as she once had. Neither she nor Callum had been able to explain what had triggered that. There had been talk of brick walls and modern life, and even a suggestion of age, which had both amused and annoyed her, but the upshot of it all was the pressures in Nat’s life were making her ill. Seeing Ash again had just worsened things.

  You’ve reached your apex, Callum had said a long time ago. People keep ignoring the fact life’s getting harder for them. They keep ploughing on until one day they hit that brick wall we talked about. I think you’ve hit it.

  The brick wall had hurt. It had brought with it panic attacks too, a surreal and completely unwanted side effect that seemed to strike Nat at the most inopportune moments: on the Tube, in meetings at the hospital, in the dead of night. The dead of night ones were always the worst.

  “Well, maybe Callum can give you the answers you’re seeking,” Maddie said. She looked at Nat’s wrist. “Or at least help quell your anxieties.”

  Nat stopped fiddling with her bracelet. “It would be a start,” she said. She stood. “The rest, I hope, will follow.” She waited while Maddie stood too.

  “Another five minutes?” Maddie asked. “Take your mind off stuff?”

  Nat followed her gaze to the bikes.

  Even another five minutes of agony on the bikes was better than getting sucked into another round of endless thoughts.

  “You’re on.”

  ❖

  Her apartment was chilly when Nat got back from the gym. It was early October. It shouldn’t have been particularly cold, but there was a distinct chill in the air when Nat stepped back in through her front door. She immediately flicked the switch on for the heating, allowing herself a wry smile at the thought that once upon a very long time ago Richard would have snapped it back off just to spite her. She dropped her gym bag at her feet, then ran her hands briskly up and down her arms, rousing her blood supply into action, and wandered into the kitchen.

  “I’m home!” She called back into the lounge. “Crazy busy shift at the hospital.” Nat pulled her refrigerator door open and peered inside, figuring that one pot of yoghurt and half a mouldy carrot did not equal a balanced evening meal. Or indeed a meal at all. “Then my weekly endurance test with Maddie at the gym.”

  She turned at the sound of soft feet padding towards her across the linoleum.

  “Carrot? It’s a bit manky but you can pick the worst of it off.” Nat bent down and scooped her rabbit up into her arms. “And, yes, I know I’m bonkers for talking to a rabbit. You don’t have t
o tell me.” The rabbit stared at her, whiskers twitching. “It’s when you start answering me, I have to worry.” She kissed his nose and placed him back on the floor, watching as he loped off back into the lounge.

  Livvy’s letter teased her from inside her work bag still strung around her shoulders and begged to be let out and read again. After pouring herself a glass of claret, Nat eased her shoes off and wandered into her lounge, then sank into her sofa and took a long, slow drink. The claret warmed her as it slipped down, so Nat took another mouthful. Even better.

  Setting her drink to one side, she pulled Livvy’s envelope out from her bag and emptied the contents on the sofa next to her. She picked up the small envelope with the number one on it. Livvy’s first wish. Nat turned it over in her hands, thinking. Was it something she could do alone, considering Ash wanted nothing to do with it, or her? Or would the whole thing be pointless, bearing in mind Livvy had made it clear she wanted her and Ash to do everything together?

  “What do you think?” Nat called to the rabbit, busy washing his ears behind her TV. “Should I open it?” She sighed. Asking a rabbit’s opinion. Slippery slope.

  Nat picked up her glass, drank back the rest of her claret, then, wedging the empty glass between her knees, ripped open the small envelope.

  Crackles, it began. Nat smiled.

  I bet you opened this before Ash opened hers, didn’t you? Ha! I’m right. Anyway, seeing (as usual!) you couldn’t exercise a little patience, here’s the first wish. Do you remember when we were all deciding which university to go to, and you said you wanted to go to Oxford, and I said if we went to Oxford we’d all have to learn to punt because just about everyone messes about on the river at Oxford, don’t they? You jumped at the idea! Said you’d never been on a boat and so you immediately wanted to add it to your wish list. Now you can! Chloe will love it because she can see the city where her incredibly clever mother got her sparkly law degree, Ash will love it because she loves boats, and you will love it because, well, just because you will. I know you too well.