by KE Payne
“You didn’t.” Nat put her hand on top of Ash’s. “I’m just…” She looked away. “I don’t know what I am.” Nat faced Ash again. “But I am happy being here. Don’t think I’m not.”
“And being happy makes you cry?” Ash tilted her head and pulled a face, making Nat smile again. “Not in my book.”
“Being happy does make me cry, yes,” Nat said, “when you’ve been unhappy for as long as I have.”
Ash sat back. Nat didn’t do unhappy, did she?
“Sometimes I think I’ve lost the ability to know what happiness is,” Nat said. “But these last few days, well, this last week really—since I met you again—it’s made me realize I’m not quite done yet.” She looked at Ash. “So, thanks.”
Ash gazed at her, her throat closing with her own tears. She fumbled in her pocket, pulled a tissue out, and handed it to Nat. “It’s clean,” she said. “Promise.”
Ash waited while Nat wiped at her eyes, formulating her next question in her mind. A question that she hoped wouldn’t bring on more tears.
“Why are you unhappy?”
Nat took a deep breath.
“All sorts of reasons,” she eventually said. “Loneliness, fear of failure. Guilt.” She slipped a look to Ash. “Knowing that I let the best thing to ever happen to me slip away from me.” She screwed up her tissue. “Then coming down here and seeing that I didn’t fuck up your life after all makes me…” Nat shook her head.
“Makes you what?”
“Makes me relieved,” Nat said. “I’ve lived with the thought that I’d ruined your life. It’s eaten away at me for years.”
“But Livvy always told you I was okay,” Ash said.
“Yes, but it’s only by coming here and seeing it for myself that I finally believe it.” Nat’s voice rose. “And that in itself makes me unhappy.”
“You’re not happy for me?” Ash was confused.
“I am.” Nat unfurled her wet tissue and blew her nose again. “I’m unhappy for myself.” She turned on her seat. “Can’t you see?” she asked. “I could have had all this with you too.”
“Your parents would have disowned you.” Ash laughed. “And hunted me down.” She paused. “You’ve had a great life of your own.” Ash captured Nat’s hands again and squeezed them tight. “This is what happens in life. We take different paths. We might not be happy at the time, but then things always have a way of working out for the best.”
“For you, maybe.”
“And for you too,” Ash stressed. “Look at you. You’re fabulous! You’re successful, hard-working, well-respected. You have everything you ever dreamed of having when you were eighteen.”
“Everything my parents wanted as well,” Nat said, “and a shitload of issues to go with it.” She tugged up the cuff on her sleeve. “See this?” She pointed at her bracelet. “This is the only thing that keeps me this side of sanity. Now who’s successful and well-respected?”
Ash stared at the brightly-coloured piece of material on Nat’s wrist and frowned. She didn’t understand anything Nat was trying to tell her. Instead of speaking, though, she touched the bracelet, running her fingers under it, feeling it, trying to understand its significance in Nat’s life.
“I don’t understand.” Ash voiced her concerns.
“I see a therapist,” Nat said. “A shrink. Once a fortnight.”
“Okay…”
“Because while everyone thinks I’m successful and everything else you just said,” Nat said, “underneath I’m lost. Afraid. Drowning.”
Ash stared at her. No, this wasn’t Nat. She’d never shown any signs of weakness in her life—not as a teenager, not at Livvy’s funeral, not at Judy’s house that day. And not once over the last few weeks. Except…
“That day in Claridge’s when you shot off to the toilet,” Ash said. “Was that…?”
“The start of a panic attack.” Nat nodded. “I think you coming in and taking my mind off it eased it.”
“I had no idea,” Ash said. “No idea about any of it.”
“I hide it well.” Nat smiled. “I’ve had years of practice.”
Ash stared out to sea, thoughts cascading through her mind like running water. All these years she’d though of Nat, swanning around her hospital, bathing in the glory of her hard work. Was the reality the opposite of that? That while Ash had made a success of her own life and was living her life to the full, enjoying every second of her cosy life in Cornwall, Nat had been up in London drowning? Were the expectations put on her as a teenager catching up with her and making her life a misery?
“Livvy never said,” Ash noted. “Did you never tell her?”
“Never.” Nat shook her head. “No one knows. I was embarrassed—I am embarrassed—to admit this image I created for myself has all been a sham.”
“But you’re going to be a senior consultant.” Ash shook her head. “I don’t understand. You’ve been a surgeon for years. How have you managed?”
“Just have.” Nat shrugged. “It’s amazing how you learn to hide your anxieties from people.” She looked away. “Being here has made me feel like my old self again. How I was when I was with you.” She stopped herself. “I mean, how I was when we were teenagers. Before everything changed.”
Ash willed her to turn back and look at her. Instead, Nat continued to look out to sea.
“The thought of going back to London right now,” Nat said, her head still turned away, “is terrifying. The thought of Belfast is even more terrifying.”
“Have you told your therapist that?” Ash asked.
“Kind of.” Nat shook her head. “Oh, he talks of distraction and breathing,” she said, her fingers absently working at the wood on the side of the boat, “but at the end of the day, I suppose we’re all flawed, aren’t we?” Finally she turned and looked at Ash. “Besides,” she continued, “I signed up for this life, didn’t I? So I guess I’ll have to just get on and deal with it.”
❖
Four hours. That’s how long they’d been talking. Four solid hours. By the time Nat had finished laying herself bare to Ash, the sun was slipping down over the horizon, casting a huge blood-red shimmer onto the sea.
Ash had listened mostly in silence as Nat had shared her deepest thoughts, only interjecting to contradict her or reassure her. Now, she watched Nat as she stared off out to sea and noticed, again, a slight shift in her demeanour, this time more positive. Her shoulders, too, looked lighter of load, her movements easier. If Nat had thought talking to Ash had helped, then listening to her had helped Ash just as much.
Ash’s eyes fell to Nat’s arm, to her bracelet hidden under her sleeve, and she wondered how she hadn’t noticed Nat’s anxiety. It was obvious to her now, in hindsight, that the constant fierce rebukes dished out to her by her parents—her father in particular—whenever Nat failed at anything as a teenager would eventually catch her up and have a detrimental effect on her as an adult. All the while Nat had been telling Ash her anxieties, her hand had strayed to her wrist, to tug or worry at the only thing that seemed to help her. It was a gesture Ash had seen while they’d been in London, but she’d never once imagined its significance. Watching Nat’s rising unease as she spoke of her future, and seeing how much she’d relied on her bracelet as she spoke, Ash felt ashamed that she’d apparently managed to get Nat all wrong.
Nat wasn’t the confident woman Ash had thought she was. Gone was the notion that Nat was selfish and self-possessed, happy to step over anyone to get what she wanted, replaced by the reality that she had been treading water all these years. In fact, while Nat had been sinking, it had been Ash who had flourished, and the truth of their respective situations now hit her like a thunderbolt.
“What are you thinking?” Nat’s voice cut through the silence.
Ash turned to look at her. She looked tired, as though the strain of her confession had knocked the wind from her sails.
“Just that I’ve had you wrong all these years,” Ash replied. “I imagined”�
�she paused, taking care to formulate her words—“that you were living this high life in London on the back of your success. You doing whatever it took to get where you wanted to be. You telling everyone you deserved it.”
“Is that what you really thought of me?”
Ash was ashamed at the look of pain on Nat’s face. Ashamed that she could have caused it.
“I didn’t know, did I?” Ash said. “I didn’t know for sixteen years.” She looked at her hands. “All I had to go on was Livvy telling me what a success you’d made of your life. How you’d climbed the greasy pole.”
“Because that was what was expected of me,” Nat said. “And look where it’s got me. In therapy.” She looked at Ash. “I’m a mess, Ash.”
“I know your parents expected a lot of you, but—”
“I expected a lot of me too,” Nat said. “How else could I justify what I’d done to you? To us?” She gazed at Ash. “Failure wasn’t an option. If I did fail, then everything I’d done would have been for nothing.”
“I spent years thinking you’d just erased me out of your life,” Ash said. “That you didn’t care.”
“I thought about you all the time,” Nat said. “Thought about what I’d done to you. The best way to get over the guilt of that was to immerse myself in my work too.”
“Why did you do it?” Ash held her look. “We were happy. Why did you have to change everything?”
“Because I was eighteen and stupid,” Nat said, “and I’ve spent my life regretting it.” She gave a half smile. “That probably accounts for some of the therapy too. The guilt.” She drew in a deep breath and looked away. “Guilt, regret, and a fear of failure. Fatal combination.”
“Sounds like you get your money’s worth though,” Ash joked with a glibness that she immediately regretted.
But to her surprise, Nat laughed.
“Yes, I suppose I do,” she said, still laughing.
Her laughter was welcome, and so genuine and warm—quite unlike her previous superficial, unhappy laughs—that Ash felt a quiet triumph that she had been the one to finally draw it out of her.
Ash stood and walked to the helm of the boat. She didn’t need to turn her head to know Nat was watching her. Instead, she stared out to an unseen spot out on the horizon and listened to the sea slapping against the side of the boat, letting Nat’s words sink in, knowing she should perhaps go back to her and say something.
But she couldn’t.
The one thing she most wanted to say could never be said.
Don’t go to Belfast.
Nat was adamant she wasn’t up to the task. Ash thought differently. Belfast was the culmination of years of hard work—and, yes, therapy—but at the end of the day it was what Nat had always strived towards, regardless of her worries. Nat would never not go. All Ash could do now was reinforce everything she’d said to her over the last four hours, instil some confidence, and wish her all the best.
Ash gripped the boat’s wheel tight, watching her knuckles blanch.
Don’t go.
Stay with me here.
I love you.
The thought grew, snowballing through her mind. The idea of it brought about a rush of something akin to a clarity, or exhilaration, but the feelings waned as quickly as they had arrived, withering and dying as the reality of her thoughts hit Ash.
“We should make a move.” Ash snapped her thoughts back, annoyed with herself for allowing them to dictate. “It’s getting late.”
She heard Nat’s footsteps on the wooden floor of the boat.
“We have Livvy’s next letter still to read,” Ash said by way of explanation, sliding a look to Nat, desperate to refocus her thoughts. Nat was gazing back at her. “So we should…you know. Get back.”
Nat tipped her head to one side, smiled, and nodded in a gesture that made Ash’s insides melt. She hastily looked back to the dashboard and flicked a switch, illuminating a line of red lights.
“Thank you.” Nat’s voice was quiet. Ash felt her hand on her arm and turned again to look at her.
“For what?”
“Everything.” Nat’s breathing was shallow. “No one’s ever understood me quite like you.”
Ash reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind Nat’s ear. “That’s because no one’s ever known you quite like I have,” she said.
Nat closed her hand over Ash’s and held it to her face. “If I could turn back the clock…”
“Then who knows what would have happened?” Ash reluctantly pulled her hand away again. “Who on earth knows?”
Chapter Seventeen
Ash lowered her head and looked out of her window across the fields, then up to a sky untroubled by clouds. Today, just like the previous day on the boat, would be perfect.
Nat watched her for a second then asked, “It’s called Brown what?”
“Willy.” Ash turned her attention from the window to Nat. “And you can stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Smirking. I saw you.”
“Why’s it called Brown Willy, for goodness’ sake?” Nat asked, looking at the map that Ash had spread out on the table in front of her. “Or shouldn’t I ask?”
“It’ll be old Cornish, I expect.” Ash joined her at the table, then traced a finger on the map. “Brownus Willius or something.”
“That would be Latin.”
“Whatever.” Ash flashed Nat a grin. “They say if you live in Cornwall, it’s one of the things you have to do. Climb to the top. It’s a bit like a Londoner saying they’ve never seen Big Ben.”
“You should work for the Cornish tourist board, you know,” Nat said. “You’d have the tourists flocking here.”
“I wonder why Livvy wants us to walk it.” Ash cast a look to Livvy’s letter, opened on her table next to the map. “Guess it’s something else she’ll never get to do.” She walked back to the window and resumed gazing out at the fields outside.
“She’ll be with us in spirit though.”
“Well, I have to say, it’s the perfect day for climbing it. Sunny, not too hot.” Ash smiled back over her shoulder to Nat. “What do you think?”
Nat joined her.
“Looks good to me,” she said. She cast her a sideways glance, almost feeling the excitement radiating from her. “Livvy sure knew what she was doing when she put the Cornwall list together.”
Ash turned from the window. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“I’d say London was my type of things,” Nat replied. “Theatre and afternoon teas. I have a feeling Cornwall is going to be more your thing.”
“Do you mind?”
“Did you mind the theatre and Claridge’s and having to trawl round the Tate?”
Ash thought for a moment then smiled. “No,” she eventually said. “I didn’t mind at all.”
“Then I don’t mind walking mountains with you, and goodness knows what else Livvy has up her sleeve,” Nat said.
I don’t mind doing anything, as long as it’s with you.
Nat focused on looking at a bird in Ash’s garden, hoping Ash hadn’t been able to read the expression on her face which she was sure gave away the thoughts in her head.
“Then I guess we’d better pull on our boots,” Ash said. She stepped away. “You’re cool with Widgeon coming?” she asked. “I couldn’t possibly even think about walking up there without him coming along too.”
Nat looked towards the door where Widgeon stood, his eyes fixed firmly on Ash, his tail half wagging in hope.
“Totally cool.” Nat smiled. “He can pull me up there if I get too tired.”
❖
Ash’s boots sent scree tumbling behind her as she scrambled up the north face of the hill. They had been walking for nearly half an hour, the last ten minutes of that up the steeper climb that would take them to the summit. The ache in Ash’s thighs told her it had been too long since she last climbed Brown Willy, and as the burning intensified with each step, she resolved to make more of an effort in
the future to visit it. Ahead of her, Widgeon was investigating a particularly interesting rock, his tail beating a rapid rhythm as his interest increased with each sniff. Behind her, she could hear Nat’s heavy breathing as she clambered up the path. Ash stopped walking, savouring the warmth flooding her leg muscles as her blood pulsed rapidly under her skin with each heartbeat, then gradually slowed as her breathing eased.
“You okay?” She called down to Nat, laughing when Nat lifted her middle finger in response. “Too much for you?” she half laughed and half shouted.
“You know, I’ve been going to my local gym three times a week since I was thirty,” Nat said, her breath coming in gasps, “but I’ve never done a workout like this.” She arrived at Ash’s side, turned, and bent over, her hands gripping her thighs. “Jeez, and I thought I was fit.” Nat looked up at Ash and laughed.
“Guess you can’t walk up over a thousand feet without it making your lungs hurt just a little bit,” Ash said.
She stepped aside as Nat straightened up and adjusted her footing on the loose scree. She could sense Nat staring out and stole a look to her. Nat’s face was pleasantly flushed from the walk, her lips redder than she’d noticed them ever being before. A few strands of hair escaped from her beanie and flapped gently in the breeze that wrapped itself around them, so that Nat persistently brushed them away from the corners of her mouth. Ash studied her profile, wishing—not for the first time—that things could have worked out differently between them. She was so beautiful, Ash thought, the sun teasing out the soft tones of her skin, highlighting the smoothness of her cheeks, and intensifying the clarity of her eyes.
“It’s stunning up here.”
“I told you,” Ash said, but she wasn’t sure if she meant Nat or the moors. “Worth the climb.” She knew wishing for something that hadn’t happened was pointless. Regretting it was more pointless still. Nat was here now, and that was all that mattered at that moment. She should just enjoy the day and think about regrets—if she had to—another time. “Only about another half-hour climb and we’ll be at the top.” She shoulder-bumped Nat at Nat’s mock-grumbling. “Come on. Widgeon can lead the way.”
