I scrolled up and down on my phone, reading and re-reading every message. I hadn’t replied. I hadn’t known what to say. I’d decided to sleep on it. Great idea. Yet I wasn’t any clearer on how to respond by Monday night so I slept on it again. By Tuesday morning, it seemed too late to reply. Action was needed instead. My manager wasn’t impressed at the short notice of my leave request. I hadn’t wanted to pull a guilt trip on him but when I let it slip that the following Friday would be the one-year anniversary of Nikki’s death, he couldn’t sign the authorisation quickly enough.
Knocking back the last drops of coffee in the services car park, I wondered whether to send Jemma a text to say that I was on my way home and wanted to meet up with her. It seemed so inadequate after nearly a week of silence. I decided to wait till I was home instead.
Thor and I re-joined the motorway and headed north. I was going to have to confess everything. Kirsty had hit a nerve because she’d been right about Jemma. Five days without contact with her had proved to me that I had moved on. Less than a year after my fiancée had died, I’d developed feelings for someone else. Strong feelings. I didn’t expect anything in return, but I needed to explain why I’d reacted the way I had. If I’d learned anything from my relationship with Kirsty and if Jemma had learned anything from her relationship with Scott, it was the importance of trust and honesty. If we were to have any sort of friendship and perhaps something more one day, it had to be built on both of those things.
* To Jemma
Hi. I’m sorry for the lack of contact this week. I started a reply to your message so many times but could never find the right thing to say. I thought it would be easier to say it in person. I’ve got the week off and am back home again. If you have any time today/tonight/tomorrow to hear my pathetic excuses, I’d like to try and make it up to you xx
It was three hours before a reply came back. Three agonising hours where I cursed myself for running away again and not facing up to my feelings.
* From Jemma
Hello stranger! Thought you’d disappeared off the face of the planet. I wasn’t deliberately ignoring you this afternoon. I’m at Bear With Me and it’s been manic. Not had time to check my phone. I’m going to South Beach tonight with Mum and Sean to see the bonfires and fireworks. I’d say you can join us but Mum will get stressed and want an instant diagnosis. I can meet you on the seafront afterwards if you like. Say 8pm?
* To Jemma
Sounds good. Thank you xx
* From Jemma
What for?
* To Jemma
For giving me a second chance xx
* From Jemma
Surely you know by now that I’m a sucker for a sob story and I ALWAYS give people second chances ;-) Now stop texting me. I’m very busy and important and have lots of bears to hug. See you tonight xx
‘You look very smart, Sammy,’ Mum said, watching me as I sat on the stairs and pulled on my walking boots. ‘I’m not so wild about the footwear, though.’
I wrinkled my nose. I’d gone for some dark blue jeans and a short-sleeved shirt instead of my usual ripped jeans and t-shirt combo, but the footwear fell short. ‘I don’t have much choice. I screwed up on the packing. I’ve only got my best shoes, my knackered Converse, and these.’
‘Shame your dad’s two sizes smaller than you or you could have borrowed some of his.’
‘Such a shame! Because loafers or brown sandals are so my thing.’
Mum laughed. ‘Cheeky. It’s good to see you smiling again, Sammy. Especially with this Friday being–’
I stopped tying my laces and looked up. ‘You can say it, you know, Mum. Friday’s the one-year anniversary of Nikki’s death. One whole year.’
‘Will you be okay?’
‘For the first time, I really think I will be. It’s been a very dark 12 months but I can finally see light.’
‘Because of this Jemma who you’re meeting?’
I laughed and resumed tying my laces. ‘Stop fishing, Mum. Jemma’s a friend and she’s been very clear that friendship is the only thing on offer, which is fine. She’s helped me, though. She got me to open up about Nikki, she got me to confront my demons by visiting the spot where it happened, and she’s given me hope for a future without Nikki, whether that’s with her, someone else, or just on my own. Thanks to Jemma, I’ve started thinking about the future instead of agonising about the past.’
‘She sounds wonderful, Sammy.’
I stood up and hugged her.
‘Enjoy your evening,’ she whispered. ‘You deserve it.’
I made it down to South Beach a little after 7.00pm. I was an hour early but I wanted to see the bonfires and fireworks first. Low tide meant a long, wide stretch of sand, perfect for Bonfire Night revellers to spread out and enjoy the evening. A trail of bonfires stretched round the bay. Some were small with a family or a few friends gathered around them. Others were large with up to 50 or 60 people seated, standing, or even dancing around them. Children and adults waved sparklers, and fireworks banged and squealed overhead. I leaned on the metal railings by the lifeboat station, taking it all in. Jemma and her family were likely to be on the beach so I was going to stay on the path.
I shoved my hands in my pockets, zipped up my jacket to the top, and slowly meandered along the seafront, thankful that, although it was cold, it wasn’t windy.
The aroma from the many chippies facing the sea was too much to resist and I succumbed to a tray of chips although they didn’t retain their heat for long in the chill of the night. I licked my salty fingers and looked around for a bin to dispose of the tray and cold remains. Job done, I turned round to join the steady flow of pedestrians but I miss-timed it and tripped over a buggy, only just managing to stop myself from sprawling onto the pavement.
‘Oh my goodness! Are you okay?’ said a woman.
‘Yes. Fine. Sorry,’ I looked up and smiled at her. ‘It was my fault. I wasn’t looking. I hope I haven’t damaged your vehicle.’
She laughed and flicked her long auburn hair over her shoulders. ‘I think it’s pretty sturdy. We can probably get away with not exchanging insurance details.’
I moved aside to avoid another collision and, as I did, I locked eyes with the man with her. He looked familiar. He frowned as he looked at me and I was sure he recognised me too. An excitable squeal from the child in the buggy broke his gaze and they continued walking.
And then it struck me. That was Stevie. Stevie Barnes. My mate from school who I’d fallen out with. Jemma had said I should get in touch with him and now was my chance.
‘Stevie?’
He stopped and turned around, his eyes narrowed as though trying to place me. Then they widened. ‘Sam?’
I smiled and nodded.
‘Jesus, Sam!’ He took a couple of paces back towards me and shook my hand. ‘It’s been… how long? Since college?’
‘About 16 years,’ I said. ‘How’re you doing?’
‘I’m good. Really good.’ The red-headed woman took a couple of paces forward and gave him a playful nudge. ‘Sorry. Being rude,’ he said. This is my partner, Elise, and our daughter, Melody. We’ve got a three-month-old son, Tristan, but he’s at home. Not on his own, obviously. Elise, this is Sam. Rob and I were great mates with him at school and then we lost touch because…’ Stevie shook his head. ‘Stupid reasons actually and all a very long time ago.’ He smiled at me and I knew instantly that the past had been forgiven and forgotten; put down to youth and immaturity. ‘So, what about you, Sam? Married? Kids?’
‘No. I didn’t quite make it up the aisle.’ I paused. Deep breath. I could do this. ‘My fiancée died a year ago.’
Elise clapped her hand across her chest. ‘No! That’s awful. Do you mind me asking…?’
‘Aneurism.’
‘Oh, mate, I’m so sorry,’ Stevie said. ‘How do you get over something l
ike that?’
‘I’m not sure you really do but I’m getting there a day at a time. So, do you still live in Little Sandby?’
Stevie nodded. ‘Yeah. Still there. Same house I bought when I was 18. You?’
‘London. I was a neurological consultant at the hospital here but after Nikki died, I needed a fresh start. Probably not one of my finest decisions so hopefully I’ll come back soon.’
‘Are you just up for the weekend, then?’ Elise asked.
‘The whole week. I’m going back next Sunday.’
‘Then you boys should get together and have a beer.’ She looked up at Stevie, no doubt wondering if she’d said the right thing given that she probably didn’t know why we’d lost touch.
Stevie was already digging out his phone. ‘Good idea. Rob’ll be up for it too. What’s your number?’
He typed it in then sent me a text. ‘Right, you’ve got mine too so prompt me if I don’t get in touch. Tristan has a good old set of lungs on him, which he likes to exercise at 1.00am, and 3.00am, and 5.00am, so my brain is mush. I’d like to catch up, though.’
‘Me too. Nice to meet you, Elise, and hopefully see you next week, Stevie.’
‘Definitely see you next week,’ he said as they set away again.
I stood watching them for a moment, smiling. Yet another thing that Jemma had done for me. I’d never have called out his name if it hadn’t been for her.
With about fifteen minutes left until I was due to meet Jemma, I wandered further along the seafront, watching the activity on the sand. Fireworks were still being set off. Some revellers had bought boxes of beer and wine onto the beach and were steadily building up a pile of empties which I hoped they were going to dispose of before the tide came back in.
I paused again, leaning on the railings. A young lad of about ten or so was writing with a sparkler while a girl of a similar age bounced up and down impatiently waiting for a woman in a bobble hat to light her a sparkler too. The second sparkler burst into life and they all squealed. The face of the woman in the bobble hat was momentarily lit up before she handed over the sparkler and my very own set of fireworks burst into life in my stomach. Jemma. She lit another sparkler and passed it to a woman who I assumed had to be her mum.
I couldn’t take my eyes off Jemma as she patiently lit sparkler after sparkler then chased the girl and boy in circles across the sand when the sparklers were all spent, giggling helplessly as she repeatedly failed to tag them. Her mum giggled too, although she didn’t join in.
The game stopped and I heard groans from the kids, presumably because they’d been told it was time to go home. Jemma linked her arm with her mum and began walking up the sand towards me. Not wanting to make things awkward, I moved further along the railings so she wouldn’t see me, but I could still see her. She hugged her mum and each of the kids then watched as they headed along the seafront towards a row of parked cars. Jemma dug out her phone. Moments later a text came through:
* From Jemma
They’ve gone. Where are you? x
* To Jemma
Take ten steps forward x
I watched her as she looked at her phone, then snapped her head up in surprise. The grin she gave when she spotted me set those fireworks off again.
A voice in my head kept saying: It’s not even been a year yet. How could you do this? But I knew that was my own guilt speaking. I knew exactly what Nikki would say about this scenario because we’d actually discussed it. One of the doctors at work had lost his wife after a short battle with cancer and, within four months, he was seeing someone else. A year later, they were married. Nikki came home one evening absolutely fuming because several of her colleagues had made cruel suggestions that he obviously hadn’t loved his wife if he could move on so fast, or that he must have already been seeing the new girlfriend while his wife was dying. ‘You can’t put a time on these things,’ she’d cried. ‘I don’t think anyone will ever get over losing someone they love, but they shouldn’t be expected to grieve forever, especially if they’re still really young when they lose that person. Nobody has a right to say that four months is too soon. If he’d found someone he cared about after four days, four weeks, four months or four years, that’s his business. It doesn’t mean he didn’t care about his wife or has forgotten about her. It simply means another opportunity for love has come along and he’s grasped it with both hands.’ I’d massaged her shoulders and told her how much I loved her feistiness about these things. ‘I’m serious,’ she said. ‘If I drop dead tomorrow, you must not spend months or, even worse, years grieving for me. It serves no purpose. It’s not going to bring me back and you still have a life to live so live it.’ I’d laughed and reminded her that, statistically, women lived longer than men so it would be her finding someone new, not me. ‘I mean it,’ she said. ‘I’ll come back and haunt you if you don’t.’ I’d forgotten about that conversation until now. Nikki would not have been impressed at me spending the past year grieving for her.
‘We meet again, Dr Jones.’ Jemma smiled up at me. ‘I think you owe me a drink.’
‘I think I owe you an explanation.’
‘You do indeed, but it’ll have to wait because I’m freezing so a warm pub is my priority right now.’
I looked along the seafront. The pubs would be packed and we might struggle to talk. It was too much of a trek to the top of town but there were a few pubs en route.
‘The Purple Lobster?’ I suggested.
Jemma nodded. ‘Lead on.’
As we set off, Jemma chattered about her evening on the beach, how great it had been to see her mum laughing, and how exciting it had been to have so many fireworks going off around them.
The fireworks continued to explode in my stomach. Exciting? I wasn’t so sure. Bloody terrifying more like. I could do this, though. I could tell her. I could move on. Was she ready to move on from Scott, though? She’d said in her text that she wasn’t, but had that been a defence mechanism? I’d soon find out.
Chapter 32
Jemma
‘This is Gunpowder Plot.’ Sam placed a pint in front of me. ‘I’ve got Rocket Release or something like that. We can swap if you don’t like yours.’
I eyed the dark ale then took a sip. It absolutely hit the spot. I’d got out of the habit of drinking real ales since moving down south, but I’d realised I had a craving as soon as we’d walked into the pub. ‘Ooh, lovely. Bit like Old Peculiar. The boy chose well. Can I try yours? It looks a bit lighter.’
‘It is. Similar percentage, though.’
He handed it over and I took a sip. ‘I like it but I prefer mine. Thank you.’
Sam pulled out a stool and sat down opposite me.
‘You’re not one of those blokes who hates women drinking pints, are you?’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know why some men have an issue with it. Or some women. Nikki sometimes drank pints too, although she was more of a fan of bottled lager than real ale.’
I studied his face. That wistful look and the slight glint of tears had gone when saying her name.
‘Have I got a beer moustache?’ Sam asked, reaching for his lips.
‘No! Nothing like that. I was just observing how easy it seemed for you to talk about Nikki just now. Have you had a breakthrough?’
He nodded. ‘I had one on North Beach last Sunday, thanks to you. In fact, I had two, but one of them came later.’
‘I’m assuming visiting the spot where it happened was one of them.’
He nodded again. ‘I faced my past and it wasn’t as hard as I expected. That moment when the sun appeared was amazing.’
‘It was stunning,’ I said. ‘I feel quite privileged to have seen it.’
Silence.
Either I was going to have to ask or he was going to have to tell me. I sipped on my pint. Damn. I knew I’d break first. ‘And the second
breakthrough…?’
His eyes held mine with a look so intense that my stomach did a flip. He had the most beautiful eyes. Deep blue with flecks of grey, like the ocean after a storm.
‘Sam…?’
He broke contact and glugged down at least half of his pint in one. He nodded, as if convincing himself to say something.
‘Did it have something to do with what the delightful Kirsty said?’ I prompted.
‘She has a way of getting under someone’s skin,’ he said. ‘She knows the exact buttons to press to make them fall for her, or to hurt them like hell. When she suggested that I hadn’t loved Nikki and had moved on already, she knew what she was doing.’
‘But you hadn’t moved on. We were – are – just friends.’
Sam took another glug on his pint. ‘I felt so guilty when she said that which was, of course, exactly what she wanted. And the reason I felt so guilty was because it’s true. I have moved on, Jem. I’ll always love Nikki and I’ll never forget her, but I’ve met someone else and I can’t stop thinking about her.’
My stomach flipped again and I felt my heart race. I didn’t mean to say it, but the word just popped out. ‘Who?’
Bear With Me Page 22
