Laurel gathered up the empty plastic bags and squashed them into the gap between the fridge and a cupboard as the front door opened and Nico reappeared.
‘That was quick,’ she said as he closed the door behind him.
‘We’ve got that film to watch, don’t we? Ferris Bueller’s whatsit.’
Laurel grinned. The glimpse of Nico’s drive and work ethic she’d seen before had been just a tiny fraction of the whole. It was staggering to see it for real. He woke early every day, without an alarm and even after a late night. He seemed to have a never-ending supply of energy and was always on the hunt for something new. He always carried a notepad with him and would often grab it in the middle of conversation to scribble down some thought or idea. But, by far, the most impressive thing about him was his dedication and commitment. When Nico said it was work time, that was exactly what he meant. Which was why she was flooded with happiness right now. Cutting time at Hassan’s short was a big deal.
‘What’s for dinner?’ he asked.
Laurel opened the freezer door and looked at the stack of ready meals. ‘What about glazed chicken, veg and rice? We can have angel cake for dessert.’
‘I love angel cake.’ Nico sidled up behind her and closed the freezer door with one hand. With the other, he held a box up in front of her face. ‘For you.’
She turned to face him and grinned. ‘What is it?’
‘Open it and find out.’
He leaned against a worktop and his face was silhouetted against the early evening light outside. It would’ve made a great photograph but she knew by now that it would never be able to portray everything she loved about him. He always seemed to catch her off guard and make her heart flutter, just like he had from the very start.
Laurel put the box on the kitchen table before lifting the flap. Her eyes almost bulged out of her head as she looked inside.
‘No way!’ She looked at Nico who was grinning back at her.
‘Do you like it?’
‘Are you kidding? It’s beautiful.’ She carefully lifted the camera out and held it in her hands.
Nico laughed. ‘You must be the only person I know who’d describe a camera as beautiful. I’m glad it makes you happy.’
Laurel shook her head, stunned as she ran her fingers across the textured steel under her hands. ‘But…I mean, it’s brand new. It must’ve cost a fortune.’
Her lecturer had a Canon AE-1 too, and she knew that Nico would have struggled to find one for under three hundred pounds.
‘Don’t you worry about that,’ he said. ‘You need a decent camera and I need good photos of my cars. It’ll pay for itself.’
Her lecturer had set a new project just yesterday. She could use her new camera to do it. The weight of it was perfect, and it fit in her hands as if it had been made for her.
Laurel looked at Nico again, her heart swelling so much that she thought it might burst right through her chest with happiness. She had so much love for this surprising, thoughtful man. She’d thought the way he’d asked her to move to London with him had been crazy but now she knew it had been love. Plain and simple. And wasn’t love a kind of craziness? It was like a holiday from a dull and boring world, and she never wanted to go back.
Later that evening after dinner but before the film and angel cake, Laurel curled up on the sofa and picked up the phone. So far, she’d only called home twice, the first time to let her parents know that they’d arrived safely and the second to let them know she’d started her course.
‘Hi, George, it’s me,’ Laurel said, smiling at the sound of her brother’s voice on the other end.
‘Lorie, hey. What’s up? How are you? What’s going on? We haven’t heard from you in ages.’
Laurel laughed. ‘I’m great. We were just about to watch a film and I thought I’d give you guys a call first.’
‘Aw, missing us already?’
‘Hardly,’ she snorted, but it wasn’t exactly true.
Being in London with Nico was an adventure, a dream come true. She was loving every moment of it. But she really missed having her brother around. She even missed the way he used to boss her around all the time. She pictured him sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, next to the waist high black corner unit where the phone lived. In her mind’s eye, Laurel saw the spider plant that hung from the corner of the ceiling above with its long tendrils reaching for the floor.
‘How are Mum and Dad?’ she asked.
‘They’re alright, they’ve gone out.’
‘Really?’ Laurel pulled a face. ‘But it’s Wednesday. Wednesday nights are Brookside nights.’
‘Not anymore. They’ve gone out the last two weeks, to some kind of dance class. Tango, I think.’
Laurel shook her head, unable to picture her mum and dad doing the tango. It wasn’t that they didn’t do anything fun - they’d been going out on Friday nights for years - she just hadn’t imagined that they’d start going out in the middle of the week too.
‘Wow,’ she said.
George laughed. ‘I know. How’s it going down in London, then?’
‘Really good, George. Really. I mean, London is just…’ Laurel paused, trying to find a word that encapsulated everything she thought and felt about the city. ‘Well, it’s amazing. And school is ace. I’ve learned so much already and I can’t believe there’s still a whole year left to go. Oh, and Nico bought me a new camera today, a Canon AE-1, which is really silly because it’s so expensive, but he says I need it for school and for work, so…’
George laughed, interrupting her flow.
‘What?’ she asked, frowning at his laughter.
‘Nothing. I just don’t think I’ve ever heard you this excited before.’
‘I don’t think I’ve ever felt this excited before. Honestly, George, things are so good it’s almost too good to be true.’
She thought back to last weekend, when Nico had taken her for a drink at a pub right on the Thames. She’d known then that she’d really arrived. She wasn’t stuck in a boring suburban life in the back end of nowhere anymore. The sun had bounced off the river beside them and they’d watched the boats go up and down. For the first time in her life, she’d felt free and on the verge of something amazing. It had been a day that was nothing short of perfect and she wished her brother had been there to share it.
‘How’s Nico?’ George asked. ‘Still being a dreamboat?’
‘Yes.’ Laurel grinned. ‘He’s great. His business is doing well and he’s treating me like a princess.’
‘That’s nice.’
Laurel tried to imagine that he’d said it in a way that sounded like he really meant it. Despite saying he was happy for them, Laurel suspected that he still didn’t think moving away with him was the wisest of choices.
‘I miss you,’ she said.
‘In the middle of all that amazingness, you miss me? Your annoying older brother?’
Laurel nodded and swallowed against the lump in her throat. ‘You’d love it here.’
‘Maybe I’ll come for a visit soon.’
‘I’ll hold you to that.’
Just the thought of him being there pushed the lump away. As great as it was meeting new people, she missed the ones who knew her best and intended to call Kim as soon as she got off the phone with George.
‘Mum and Dad might try to tag along though,’ he warned. ‘I’m serious. They’ve been talking about it non-stop and bragging about you to everyone.’
‘What do you mean, bragging?’ she asked with a laugh. ‘They were dead set against me coming.’
‘Well now that you’re there, it’s a different story. You’re the star daughter who’s moved to the Big City to study photography. Makes me think I should do the same instead of letting you get all the credit.’
Laurel smiled. It was the last thing she’d expected to hear. Her parents had tried to talk her out of moving, telling her she’d regret it, that she was too young to know what she really wanted, or what was best. But
now it sounded like they were almost proud of her, even if they hadn’t told her so themselves. Maybe it was just another sign that she’d made the right decision after all.
SEPH
Fourteen
‘Why are you out of breath?’ Seph asked, hugging her mum hello.
Laurel stood back and blew a puff of air upwards from her mouth. ‘I was up in the attic.’ She brushed a strand of hair back. ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’
Seph didn’t reply as she closed the front door behind her. She’d woken up that morning with an irritable feeling swarming in her belly and had known instantly there was no chance of getting any work done. How could she possibly be confined within the walls of her studio when everything had changed? She had a whole other family, a sister, and a completely different heritage.
She’d barely slept through the night since coming back from France as it was, but after meeting Nico, she’d only managed three to four hours a night. She’d toss and turn, her mind unable to settle. One minute, she’d be buzzing with excitement, her skin literally tingling as she imagined herself on a plane to Crete to see where Nico came from, where her roots came from. And the next minute, her belly would burn with sickening anxiety over having to tell her parents that she’d met him. She couldn’t put it off any longer. She had to tell them. It was impossible to do anything that required even the tiniest bit of focus until she did.
Seph hung her satchel on the post at the bottom of the stairs before crouching down to pick up Taro. He extended his paws, his sharp claws reaching out in protest. He loved climbing up into people’s laps and being stroked but had always hated being picked up. Seph held him close anyway and looked through to the living room.
‘Where’s Dad?’
‘At the garage getting the car MOT’d. He’ll be back soon. Cuppa?’
Seph shook her head. ‘I’m trying to lay off the caffeine.’
She was a coffee addict but, in combination with her minimal sleep pattern, it was starting to take its toll. Her nerves constantly felt jangled and on edge.
The washing machine beeped from the alcove under the stairs and after reaching down to switch it off, Laurel disappeared into the kitchen for the laundry basket. Seph stayed in the hallway, leaning against the wall with Taro in her arms, trying to relax into the familiarity of the house. Coats were hung on the wall hooks and the air diffuser her mum always kept on the windowsill by the door provided a subtle scent of jasmine. Seph stroked Taro’s neck and stared at the pink light streaming onto the stairs through the stained glass panels in the front door.
‘You alright, love?’ Laurel asked, coming back into the hallway with a plastic laundry basket in her hands.
Seph nodded as her mum opened the washing machine door and started pulling the clothes out. She was hit by a sudden memory of running into the house aged six, sweaty and tired after playing outside in the sun. Her mum had been in front of the machine, filling the basket with freshly laundered clothes, just like she was now.
‘I met up Nico,’ Seph blurted out. ‘Two days ago.’
Laurel stopped what she was doing for such a small fraction of a second that, if she’d have blinked, Seph might have missed it. Seph kept her eyes on her as she continued pulling the clothes out of the machine.
‘Oh,’ Laurel said.
In the memory of her six-year-old self, she’d leaned on her mum’s back, throwing her arms around her neck for no reason other than it had felt good. Seph looked at her mum now, crouched in front of the machine over two decades later, dressed in her same Saturday uniform of a plain T-shirt and jeans. The need to hug her was as strong now as it had been then.
Laurel’s response to the news had sounded underwhelming, but Seph knew it was because she was hurt. She pushed her back into the wall to stop herself from fulfilling her need to hug her mum because, despite talking things through on the phone, there was still a gap between them. It was barely perceptible but it was there, and it was swallowing up the places where their frequent hugs used to be.
Laurel said nothing more as she picked up the basket and disappeared into the kitchen again. Seph followed and watched as she went out into the back garden, methodically hanging up T-shirts, shorts, jeans and skirts under the beating sun. Taro lay uncharacteristically still in her arms, as if he knew better than to disturb whatever was about to go down. Seph decided to change tack as her mum walked back to the house with a passive face.
‘So,’ she said, rubbing a finger between Taro’s ears, ‘what were you doing up in the attic?’
‘Clearing stuff out, getting rid of old crap,’ Laurel replied. She looked up towards the ceiling and dropped her shoulders before sighing. She turned to Seph with a look of resignation. ‘Come on.’
Seph put Taro down and followed her mum out into the hallway. ‘What for?’
Laurel didn’t reply as they headed upstairs, or while they climbed up the creaky ladder into the attic. The two light bulbs hanging from the central ceiling joist filled the space with brightness. She’d been terrified of the attic as a little girl, mostly because it seemed like a place where things went to die. Like those red roller-skates peeking out from a box. She’d got them one year for Christmas and had been so excited that she’d put them on and gone in circles around in the living room until she’d made herself so dizzy she’d almost thrown up. She hadn’t thought about that memory in years. There was so much stuff up here, so many belongings that had once been a part of their lives. She wasn’t a kid anymore but still, a shudder of unease ran down her spine. Seph wasn’t one for clutter. When things weren’t needed anymore, they were taken to the charity shop or recycled.
Seph followed her mum to the far end of the attic where Laurel handed her a bag of Tony’s ancient golf clubs. As her mum began rifling through a box, Seph quickly set the clubs down. She could almost see the apprehension emanating from Laurel’s body and had a feeling there was a reason this box had been stashed away in such a difficult to get to place.
‘I wasn’t sure whether to give you these, but now you’ve met him.’ Laurel turned and handed her a photo album bound in cream leather. ‘You said you wanted to know where you come from.’
Curiosity peeked up in Seph’s head. Every milestone of her life had been photo-documented, from her first time using the potty to her first school disco. Her mum had an almost emotional attachment to photos, so it was strange for any to be left up here gathering dust.
Seph sat down and crossed her legs, pushing out tiny plumes of dust from the floor. She eagerly opened the album to see a photograph of a young girl. It was old – probably from the eighties given the high-waisted jeans, bandeau top and leather jacket she was wearing. All of her clothes were black and her lips were streaked bright red, pouting with defiance. Dark shades covered her eyes and a chin-length blonde bob framed her face. Seph studied the photograph for a few more seconds before looking up at her mum.
‘Is this you?’
The total shock in her voice seemed to diffuse the atmosphere a little and Laurel’s mouth relaxed into something like a smile.
‘I was eighteen,’ she replied, sitting down next to Seph on the floor.
‘Wow.’ She shook her head, looking at the picture again. ‘You look so different.’
Her mum had never looked like this before. Laurel was stylish and always dressed well, but she had a definite mumsy air about her and Seph was sure she’d never seen her wear lipstick before, let alone anything resembling bright red. The girl in the photo exuded confidence that Seph had never seen in her mum. She looked like the kind of girl who would have once been described as a siren. Everything about the photo oozed sex appeal. Seph turned to the next picture, another of Laurel sitting on a wall, taken in profile.
‘You look like a bit like Madonna,’ she said.
‘Oh, give over. I look nothing like her. I was always trying to get the Kim Wilde look. Madonna wasn’t my cup of tea.’
Seph found herself smiling as she leafed through the album. It was
like stepping back in time, with the dodgy perms, geometric patterns and awful fashion until she turned the page and saw Nico. Seph stared at it, as shocked as she had been with the picture of her mum. He looked like a cheekier version of Tom Cruise, just like her mum had said. She tried to picture him and her mum together, walking down the street. They must have made one intimidatingly good-looking couple.
Did her mum see the similarities between herself and Nico, too? She must do. How could anyone miss the dark, inquisitive eyes, or their highly arched eyebrows. And now Seph had seen it in Nico, she realised where she got the slight tilt to her mouth from, the one that sometimes made it look like she was sneering, even when she wasn’t. It was a physical attribute that had often got her into trouble.
‘When was this taken?’ she asked.
‘Just after I’d moved to London with him, so 1987. The end of summer.’
‘What’s the story behind it?’
Seph looked at her, hoping she’d share it. Laurel always told the story behind photographs, what had happened in the moments before and after, why she’d felt the need to take it, her feelings about it. Her memories.
‘Well,’ Laurel began with a small sigh, ‘it was a happy day. One of the best, actually. We went for a drink at a pub somewhere on the Thames and sat in the beer garden for hours. It wasn’t long after I’d moved.’
‘Did you miss home?’ Seph asked, making herself more comfortable and settling down for the story, just like she had as a little girl. ‘You always said you never really liked London.’
What Goes Down: An emotional must-read of love, loss and second chances Page 15
