by KE Payne
“Do you think you deserve it?” Callum asked.
Nat frowned, sensing her father breathing down her neck, his admonishments as clear in her mind as they’d always been.
Some people in this life are destined to just get by, Natalie, he’d say. Others to excel in everything they do. You are one of the latter.
“Yes,” she eventually said, “I think I do.”
“Then you must take that knowledge with you to your new job,” Callum said. “Take that strength and use it.”
Nat nodded. Strength? Right now she felt anything but strong. She felt weak and defeated, bowed down under the pressure of a new job she wasn’t sure she was up to, and the prospect of having to spend time with Ash, knowing that Ash loathed her and resented everything about her.
The next few weeks, Nat knew with a quick glance to her wrist, would either make her or break her.
Somehow she thought it might be the latter.
Chapter Five
Oxford was bathed in a mellow glow of midmorning sunshine when Ash finally arrived there, two weeks after her afternoon tea with Judy. Sun-soaked ancient spires watched over the city, sitting curiously amongst the bright-red tour buses and tourists, almost as if the eyes of a thousand former Oxonians—from Betjeman to Tolkien—were quietly assessing them.
Time had passed slowly since Livvy’s funeral. According to Judy, Chloe had been handled with cotton-soft care, grief had had time to mellow—even if it hadn’t nearly disappeared altogether—and Ash had gradually grown used to the idea that the next two weeks would be the first step on the road to having Nat temporarily back in her life again.
Not that the idea sat any easier with her. Over the previous fortnight, and much to her dismay, her melancholy at what Nat had done to her all those years before had taken a leap forward again, after lying dormant for so many years. They’d exchanged phone numbers. That had been weird, and even though Ash had flatly refused to speak to Nat again after their initial phone conversation, she knew they’d have to communicate somehow if their forthcoming two weeks together were to run smoothly. Texts, Ash figured, would do, but each new text from Nat, asking for confirmation of dates and times to meet, was met with a renewed sense of dread at what Ash was about to do. She hated it all. Hated the way she felt each time she saw Nat’s name illuminate her phone. Hated the anxiety that choked her throat when she thought about seeing her again.
Now, as Ash strode towards their agreed meeting place, her mind—hitherto desperately trying to dismiss her nervousness—took itself on a journey where it sought out Nat, because Ash’s brain needed to quickly process how it was going to feel at seeing her again, and needed to be fully prepared. For her own sanity, she had to anticipate exactly where Nat would be, what she’d be wearing, and how she’d look. How would their initial meeting fare? Who would see whom first? Who would smile first? Would Nat try to hug her again, like she had at Judy’s house? Ash frowned at the thought, dug her hands deeper into her pockets, and walked on. Faces and colours coalesced as Ash sidestepped and weaved her way through the crowds milling around shopfronts, with no one apparently in any hurry to get out of her way.
Nat was already there, waiting for her. Ash cursed under her breath that she hadn’t been the first to arrive but couldn’t quite fathom why that would unsettle her so much. She’d wanted more time to gather her thoughts before Nat arrived, that much she already knew. But had she also wanted Nat to have the gut-wrenching anxiety she was now experiencing, knowing that she would have to seek her out and then approach her through the crowds, just as Ash was now?
Ash’s feet slowed. She didn’t want Nat to see just how nervous she was. Didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that Ash was dreading having to spend the day with her. Finally, Ash stopped walking and stood, hidden by the crowds, and watched Nat through the sea of heads in front of her, feeling a coldness spread about her chest as she did so, as though the ghosts of her past were shimmering right through her heart.
If Nat was as uneasy as Ash was, she was hiding it well. Instead, she was pointing something out to Chloe, standing beside her, bending her head slightly to hear Chloe’s reply. Laughing lightly and easily. Nat looked beautiful. Composed. Ready. Ash blinked slowly, hardly able to tear her eyes away. Nat was confident and poised.
More importantly, though, Nat was quite unlike the shivering mess who was watching her, with increasing dread, through the crowds.
❖
Nat knew she was watching her. It would have been so easy just to turn her head a fraction, catch her eye, and beckon her over. But she couldn’t. Why? Nat fixed her gaze dead ahead of her, not daring to allow her line of sight to wander over towards Ash, still standing watching her. Because if she did beckon her over, then that would mean this was all real.
It was anything but real.
“See that building there?” Nat dragged her attention from Ash and pointed to a rounded building just to her left. “That was where your mum had her graduation ceremony.” Ash’s presence still bored into her. “Where she finally received her law degree.”
“It’s fancy.” Chloe looked in the direction Nat was pointing.
“Sheldonian Theatre,” Nat replied. “Been standing since Charles II’s time.”
“That’s a long time, right?” Chloe smiled at Nat.
“You could say that.” Nat laughed lightly, aware that her laughter sounded hitched tight. Nervous anticipation, she figured, did that to a person.
Why was Ash not moving? She knew they were there, waiting, but still she hung back. How much longer did she want to draw this out?
Nat allowed herself a half glimpse in Ash’s direction. Finally, she was striding towards them. Walking confidently and with purpose. Ash looked ready to take on anything. Ready to take her on.
Mostly though, Nat thought with a sinking feeling, Ash looked quite unlike the shivering mess who was watching her, with increasing dread, as she pushed her way through the crowds towards her.
❖
“Clo.” Ash warmly embraced Chloe and held her close. With a quick, final squeeze, she released her. “I’m so glad you came. Did your grandma put you on the train?” She picked a small ball of fluff from Chloe’s shoulder. “Which station did you travel from? Did you sit at an aisle seat like I said?” Ash was gabbling. She knew she was gabbling, but her mouth wouldn’t stop.
“She travelled with me.” Nat spoke before Chloe could answer. “I didn’t want her travelling alone.”
“Neither did I.” Ash met Nat’s gaze.
They stood, a sliver of ice lying between them.
“Even though I travel across London every day.” Chloe smiled. “And Grandma was totally okay with me coming to Oxford alone.”
“Nat stepped in anyway?” Ash raised an eyebrow. “Well there’s a surprise.”
“You’d have a fourteen-year-old travel alone?”
“She’s fourteen, not four.” Ash gave her best bored look. “And if Judy was okay with it…” She shrugged.
“I’m here. It’s cool.” Chloe gave Ash another hug. “You two are stressing way too much.”
Ash caught Nat’s eye. Stressing. Understatement of the century.
“So.” Nat dropped her eyes. “What first?”
“Your mum,” Ash said, pulling Livvy’s letter from her bag and ignoring Nat, “wanted you to see a river called the Cherwell today.” She opened her letter out. “It runs through Oxford or something.” Ash rolled a hand vacantly in the air, then stuffed Livvy’s letter back into her bag.
“It’s where she spent a lot of her summers,” Nat added. Her gaze met Ash’s again. She looked tired and drawn, Ash thought. As though, just like Ash, this was the last place she wanted to be, and the last thing she wanted to be doing.
“Messing about on the river like something out of Wind in the Willows?” Chloe smiled. “She used to tell me about it.”
“I used to come with her.” Nat lifted her eyes to the sky, and Ash sensed her remembering. “When I visited fo
r weekends, you know?”
“You guys used to come here together?” Chloe looked from Nat to Ash and back again.
Nat shook her head. “I don’t know whether Ash ever came.”
Ash stole a glance to Nat. Memories of time spent with Livvy on her own tumbled about her. Both before she left for Europe and after. Weekends spent desperately hoping Livvy wouldn’t mention Nat’s name, and desperately hoping she wouldn’t bump into her. She should have been more of an adult, Ash thought now. She should have dealt with it. Relationships happened, and break-ups happened. But she’d never been able to, just like she’d always assumed Nat had never been able to either.
Sadness enveloped her once more. Grief at her losses. Ash circled an arm around Chloe’s shoulder and steered her along, hoping to send her grief scuttling away again. “Trust me, Clo,” she said, “there’ll be more than just a bit of messing around this afternoon.” She glanced back over her shoulder to Nat and felt her heart grow heavy again.
It was going to be a long week.
❖
Nat rested her head back and stretched her legs out in front of her. The soft sound of water lapping against the side of the boat, coupled with the heat, both from the sun and the warmed wood, all conspired to make her dozy. Her eyes, leaden with tiredness, refused to stay open. Ash’s and Chloe’s murmured voices entered and left her ears, while the occasional sound of child’s laughter from the riverbank, or an accompanying boat, let her know she was still partially awake.
Their boat was meandering its way down the river, having left Oxford far behind. Once various landmarks had been pointed out to Chloe, and memories had been shared, a silence had settled over the boat. That was when Nat’s eyes had grown heavy, and she had been happy to lie back and let Ash carry on punting the boat.
A jolt instigated a stretch from Nat. She locked her arms above her head and slowly eased one eye open, slitting it against the sun, and peered down the boat. Ash and Chloe were sitting next to one another, still talking in lowered tones, apparently oblivious to Nat’s stretching. Ash had one hand gripped tight around the boat’s punting pole but had stopped propelling it, happy for now just to aid its steering and allow the boat to continue its way down the river without any other help.
Nat settled back down. Her gaze, though, remained on Ash, following the line of her hand, gripping the pole, up her arm, to her face. Nat blinked. Ash always did have an expressive face and now, as she talked animatedly to Chloe, her expressiveness shone through. Ash’s voice was different too. Her London accent had faded to warmth, thanks to its new southwest twang. Living in Cornwall had obviously helped shape her new, more grounded accent, and Nat liked it.
The cool teenager she’d known had grown into a striking woman, with the same confidence and strong personality she’d always had, and as Nat studied her, fresh regret gripped her. Ash had barely said two words to her the whole afternoon, let alone made any proper eye contact. Instead, it had been Chloe who had been the lucky recipient of Ash’s kindness, humour, and company since the moment Ash had met them, and Nat was jealous. That was it. Nat had felt an uneasiness all afternoon, one which she hadn’t been able to put her finger on, but now, watching Ash giving Chloe her total attention, the reality hit her. She was jealous. She squeezed her eyes tight shut, embarrassed at her own feelings.
The jealousy refused to budge.
Ash was still a closed book to her, and Nat hated it. More than that, on the few occasions Ash had actually looked at her, she had looked at her with such wounded, lifeless eyes it was as though they had never once known one another intimately. Had never kissed, never lain naked together, had never lived and breathed one another, or had never been so lost in one another’s gaze that the outside world hadn’t existed to either of them.
Now, fast-forward sixteen years and Nat knew hardly anything about Ash—only the few snippets Livvy had told her—and while she knew she shouldn’t be interested, the truth was, she was curious about her. Ash had asked her nothing of her life, either. That hurt. Wasn’t Ash just as curious to find out what had happened to her and how her life had eventually panned out in the intervening years? Nat peered down towards them again. Was she really going to have to grill Chloe on the train back to Judy’s house about Ash? Had it really come to that?
“You’re awake!” Chloe called down to her. “I thought we were going to have to dunk you in the river to wake you up.”
Nat stretched again, as if to show she really had just woken up. Such an act. It was all such an act.
“Sorry.” She sat up, then rubbed her face. “Blame the sunshine.” She yawned, clamping her hand over her mouth when she saw Ash watching her.
“We were talking about tomorrow.” Ash addressed her.
Nat sat up straighter. “Yeah?”
“And that we should open letter number two,” Ash said. She paused. “When you’d finished your beauty sleep, that is.”
Nat stared at her. Had she noticed the hint of a smile from Ash? If she had, that would have been a first all day. She stood, holding her arms out to her side as the punt wobbled slightly, then gingerly made her way closer to them.
“Letter number two,” Nat said, raising herself an inch off her seat to retrieve Livvy’s letter from her back pocket, “to be opened after wish number one has been completed.” She smoothed the envelope out onto her knee and watched as Ash leaned backwards slightly to pull her own letter from her jeans pocket.
“Do we all agree wish number one has been completed?” Ash asked.
“Punting in Oxford,” Chloe said. “Check.” Nat watched, gratified, as Chloe gazed about her. “And it’s been awesome,” she added.
“We aim to please.” Nat caught Ash’s eye for an instant, then looked away.
“Letter number two,” Ash said. Nat watched as she slid her index finger under the envelope’s flap, pulled out the letter, and unfolded it. “Dear Flash,” Ash read, “how was Oxford? Just as I remembered, I hope. Did you show Chloe Magdalen on your way down the river? What did she think of it?” She lifted her eyes to Chloe.
“Awesome.” Chloe smiled, the sadness in her smile resonating with Nat. “The fact that Mum went there and was all kinds of wonderful and clever and brilliant is mind-blowing.” Nat sensed Chloe’s shoulders slumping. “And it makes me miss her more than ever.”
“We all do.” Nat smiled at her. “So it makes it all the more important that we have the best time over the next two weeks and fulfil her last wishes.” She looked at Ash. “Right?”
“Right.” Ash nodded. She lowered her eyes again. “If you’re all willing,” she read, “it would be brilliant if you’d head back to London after you’re done messing about on the river and take in a show in the West End. Nothing too fancy, mind you. I never could abide all that la-di-da theatrical stuff. Remember how once Nat wanted to go see some Chekhov play at the National and we both said we’d rather swim down the Thames naked?”
Nat’s smile matched Ash’s at that last comment. The Chekhov play had remained unwatched, she recalled. As had all the other plays they’d pledged to go and see. Time had marched on, and friends had parted, never to fulfil their wishes.
“We never did go, did we?” Nat spoke her thoughts aloud. “You wanted to see Phantom. I said I couldn’t cope with all the cloaks and singing.” She laughed. “Do you remember?”
“Seems there was a lot we couldn’t agree on back then, wasn’t there?” Ash replied. The sharpness in her tone stung Nat, leaving her laugh hanging awkwardly in the air. “Where was I?” Ash returned to Livvy’s letter, Nat’s attempted pleasantries to her apparently unimportant.
Nat concentrated on her breathing, hurt and unnerved by Ash’s instant return to coldness. She stole a look to Chloe, apparently unaware of the resentment that was now radiating from Ash’s direction as she continued to read Livvy’s letter. Nat sighed. Her trip to Oxford had, until that moment, turned out better than she could have ever hoped, offering her hope that the next few days might ac
tually not be as bad as she’d feared. Now, as she continued to watch Ash, her nerves that had dissipated as the punt had bobbed its way along the river returned with a vengeance.
How was she ever going to get through the rest of the day, let alone the next week?
Chapter Six
It was a small hotel. Some might even say poky. The view from Ash’s window down to the grubby courtyard below, where the hotel’s chefs gathered to smoke their break-time cigarettes, wasn’t much better, either. Of course Nat had suggested another hotel that she knew, closer to Kensington, but Ash’s stubbornness and reluctance to allow Nat to have any say over where Ash should or shouldn’t be overruled her. Now, staring around her claustrophobic room and knowing this was to be her temporary home for the next four days, Ash regretted her pig-headedness.
How had she even managed to get herself into all of this anyway? Oxford had happened, and, yes, the punt down the Cherwell had been far more enjoyable than she could ever have anticipated, but now she was booked into a hotel in North London, pacing the floor with an ever-increasing sense of dread because she knew that in two hours’ time she’d be sitting in a theatre. With Nat.
It was all madness. Chloe was excited though, both at the thought of going into the West End and at spending more time with her and Nat, and it was only the thought of her exuberance that would get Ash through the rest of the evening.
Ash’s gaze fell to the minibar. She couldn’t, could she? Weren’t the two beers she’d just drunk with her dinner downstairs enough? She pulled her hands through her hair. It would take more than just a couple of beers to see her through the evening. Ash walked over to it, opened it, and crouched in front of it, her face illuminated by its internal light. Just the one. To settle her nerves. She pulled a bottle from inside, opening it in an instant, and chugged back a mouthful. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she stood, closed the minibar’s door with her foot, and sat on the edge of her bed.
