Hello, Again

by Isabelle Broom

  She wished she had a friend that she could speak to – someone her own age, who would give her advice about where to position herself for her call, and how she could angle her face to make it look less like a big looming ham. Why were phone cameras so unflattering? How did all those influencers manage to look so perfect on their Instagram stories? It was a mystery to Pepper, and one she knew Josephine would have no answer for.

  She scrolled through her contact list, but every name she paused at was a client, or a school friend who had long since moved away. She had seen gangs of mums having coffee together along the high street, some of whom she recognised vaguely from college, but Pepper had never plucked up the courage to go over and reintroduce herself. Most women her age had several big groups of friends, from work, university or their NCT groups – but Pepper only had her mother, Josephine and, she supposed, although it was a stretch, Samuel. And she was not about to text him and ask for some tips of how to look desirable on a FaceTime date. He would laugh her into the middle of next month.

  Pepper had assigned Finn his own special ringtone, but she still jumped about a foot in the air when she heard it. Giving her hair a final fiddle and rubbing a finger along her teeth in case any of her red lipstick had somehow ended up on them, she arranged a smile on her face and answered.

  ‘Hallo!’

  Finn’s slightly blurry face came into view, his smile so wide that it didn’t fit the screen.

  ‘Hey, hey you.’ Pepper felt heat in her cheeks. He looked so handsome, so clean, so exactly as she had pictured him over and over, ever since she and Josephine climbed into a taxi and drove away from him. Finn was still in Lisbon, he told her, turning his phone around and giving her a sweeping glance at his hotel room, but he was flying home in the morning.

  ‘Did you find any more artists for your site?’ Pepper asked, glancing down at her own image in the bottom corner of her screen. It was really hard not to, and every time she did, the urge to grimace overwhelmed her. She looked like Phil Mitchell from EastEnders, only more like a thumb.

  ‘Ja,’ Finn told her happily. ‘One who does ceramic fish, and another who is making these,’ he went on, rustling in a bag before holding up a white plant pot with holes cut out for eyes and a mouth.

  ‘He is . . . cute,’ Pepper said. ‘That smile is very enigmatic, isn’t it? He’s the Mona Lisa of pots.’

  ‘That is what I said!’ Finn exclaimed, even more animated now. ‘We are like this,’ he added, tapping the side of his head and then pointing towards her.

  ‘Great minds,’ she agreed.

  ‘I like your hair like this,’ he said then. ‘And the black – it suits you.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Pepper dipped her chin. ‘I hardly ever wear it.’

  ‘Well, you should.’ He paused for a moment, his mouth twisting to one side, and then he said, ‘du siehst umwerfend aus.’

  Pepper tried to repeat his words, but he laughingly cut across her.

  ‘In English, it means you look staggering – or stunning.’

  ‘I’m sure I don’t.’ Pepper cringed. ‘I can see myself, you know.’

  ‘Will you show me your house?’ Finn asked, and Pepper breathed with relief, glad to be off the subject of how good she might or might not look. Getting up from where she had arranged herself on the sofa, she took him on a mini tour which started in the front room and ended upstairs in her bedroom. When she turned the phone back around, she saw that Finn was now under the covers of his hotel bed and had also removed his shirt.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, unable to stop her eyeballs from bulging in appreciation. Finn was in very good shape and seemed wholly at ease to be half-naked on her phone.

  ‘My flight is early tomorrow,’ he said, by way of an explanation. ‘It is bedtime for me.’

  ‘Do you want me to go?’ Pepper hastened, sitting down on the edge of her bed, but Finn shook his head.

  ‘No – please stay. Perhaps . . .’ He stopped and eyed her for a moment or two. Pepper felt as if she had newsprint all over her face, and that he was trying his best to decipher it.

  ‘Perhaps what?’ she asked.

  ‘Perhaps we can both get into bed, and then it will be like we are together, under the covers.’

  Pepper almost dropped her phone.

  ‘Er, OK,’ she said, standing up once again and folding back her duvet. A few seconds later, she was snuggled up against her pillow, her arm stretched out far enough to allow Finn to see her. She had taken off her cardigan, but left her vest on, although from the way he was now looking at her, she felt as if Finn could see straight through it.

  ‘This is nice,’ he said, as Pepper tried not to fuss with her hair. Being under the duvet certainly offered a more flattering light, but she was concerned about her face looking scrunched up, or her nose too big.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Finn asked, as Pepper chewed uncomfortably on her bottom lip.

  ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘This is my first FaceTime call – I’m still getting used to it.’

  ‘Ah,’ he replied, nodding as if he understood. ‘I am honoured, then. I am your first?’

  ‘First FaceTime,’ she clarified.

  ‘And first German?’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘That, too.’

  ‘And first man you have met abroad?’

  ‘Lisbon was the first time I’ve ever been abroad,’ she confessed, and Finn’s eyes widened.

  ‘And did you catch the bug?’ he asked. ‘The travel bug?’

  Pepper thought for a moment. She had loved every minute of her time in Lisbon, had not stopped thinking about it and was counting down the days until she and Josephine headed off to Barcelona for the second part of their quest.

  ‘Maybe a bit,’ she told him. ‘But I’m not sure where I would go next, if it was up to me.’

  Finn moved his face closer to his phone, until his lips felt as if they were only inches away. Pepper could feel herself unfurling as desire began to nudge its way through her body; her limbs felt loose and her lips heavy. What she wanted more than anything was for Finn to be here, so she could kiss him, so she could press herself against him.

  ‘I miss you,’ she murmured, making herself look right into his eyes. They were almost black under here, beneath the covers, deep pools of the darkest water.

  ‘Das ist gut,’ he said, his voice low. ‘Because I miss you, too.’

  They had not discussed when they would next see each other before Pepper left Lisbon, but the suggestion that they would was absolute. She had assumed he would offer to visit, but so far Finn hadn’t mentioned it. Perhaps he was waiting for her? Pepper was struck then by a flash of courage, her need to see Finn – to properly see him again – smashing down the boundaries that she would usually cower behind, too polite or too fearful to peer over them.

  ‘I know,’ she said, reaching out and touching her phone, her finger on his lips. ‘I know where I would go first, if it was up to me.’

  Finn said nothing, he simply smiled at her expectantly.

  ‘Hamburg,’ she told him. ‘I would come and see you. Is that mad? That is mad, isn’t it?’

  ‘Ja,’ he agreed, nodding as she laughed. ‘I think mad, yes. But mad ist gut!’

  ‘You’re funny,’ she told him. ‘But I can’t just fly over to Hamburg.’

  ‘Can’t you?’

  ‘Can I?’

  ‘Pepper,’ Finn said, and she could see from his expression that he was no longer joking.

  ‘You are a grown woman. You can do whatever you want.’

  Chapter 20

  When Pepper knocked on her mother’s front door the following morning, it was with all the confidence of someone who was taking charge of their life, making decisions, being bold, and booking a flight over to Hamburg to see the man they were pretty sure they were falling for as hard and as fast as a bulldozer.

  ‘Hi, Mum,’ she said cheerfully. ‘No, I won’t take my shoes off, because we’re going out. Come on.’

  ‘What are you talking about
?’ her mother replied, rather irritably. ‘Go where?’

  ‘Ipswich. I thought we could go shopping, get something to wear at Dad’s wedding, maybe have lunch?’

  Her mother gaped at her.

  ‘Come on, Mum,’ she chivvied. ‘It’s not as if I’ve asked you to come and climb to Everest Base Camp with me – it’s just the shopping centre.’

  ‘Shopping?’ her mum echoed. ‘Now?’

  ‘Yes! Why not? You don’t have anything else planned for this afternoon, do you?’

  The plastic hallway runner creaked as her mother shifted from one slipper to the other.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘But I don’t think that––’

  ‘That settles it, then.’ Pepper started to back away before her mother could come up with an excuse. ‘I’ve left the engine running in the car, so you get your things together while I turn around.’

  Giving her mother a beaming smile of encouragement, she skipped back towards the Volvo, proud of herself for being so assertive. For over twenty-three years she had been mostly tiptoeing around her mother, terrified of saying anything that would upset her, but today she felt galvanised – by Finn, but also by herself. Nothing would ever change unless she did something to change it, and that meant she must find the strength to alter her routine and behaviour.

  Pepper watched as her mum closed the front door behind her, double locking it and checking three times to make sure it could not be opened. Despite the May sunshine doing a grand job of pushing aside the clouds, she had put a smart camel-coloured trench coat on over her navy slacks and pale grey jumper and was hunched over as if she was cold. Pepper leant forwards and switched on the fan heater.

  ‘I’m not sure we’ll find anything worth wearing in Ipswich,’ she grumbled, as Pepper manoeuvred the big car out of the cul-de-sac.

  ‘Shall we go to London, then? I can drive us straight to the station and––’

  ‘No. For heaven’s sake, Philippa. London? What a thing to say.’

  It took all of Pepper’s self-control not to laugh out loud, and no matter how much her mother acted as if she had been kidnapped throughout the remainder of the drive, Pepper refused to allow her buoyant mood to be affected. She hoped that eventually, her mother would give in, would laugh at one of Pepper’s jokes or ask her how her trip to Lisbon had been. She did neither, however, preferring to stare gloomily out of the window as Pepper prattled on about whatever subject came to mind next.

  Her mother’s mood did not improve when she saw the queue trailing out of the multi-storey car park, nor when Pepper used her sat nav to hunt for an alternative, only for it to direct them a mile out of the town centre.

  ‘We can walk it?’ Pepper said lightly. ‘It’s a nice day.’

  Her mother sighed.

  ‘I just want to get this over with,’ she muttered, and Pepper felt her resolve beginning to crack.

  In the end, she drove them back to the original car park, and after ten or so minutes of waiting, a space became free and they were in. Her mother said nothing as they ventured towards the central shopping centre and shook her head at the suggestion that they stop for coffee and cake first.

  Pepper’s resolve cracked further.

  ‘How about this?’ she asked, twenty minutes later, holding up what she thought was a chic and feminine floral number.

  Her mother pulled the sort of face one would if they had stepped in a cow pat.

  ‘Flowers,’ she said disparagingly.

  ‘And?’ Pepper said beseechingly. ‘Flowers are nice.’

  A tut.

  ‘OK, then – how about this?’

  She had selected the fluorescent pink jumpsuit with the diamanté straps on purpose to provoke her mother into laughter, but not even this seemed to work. Her mother merely sighed again, as she had been all morning, and folded her arms across her chest.

  ‘If you’re not going to take this seriously, Philippa, then why did we come?’

  ‘I was only joking,’ Pepper complained. ‘You remember what jokes are, don’t you? Those things you tell to make people loosen up a bit.’

  ‘Perhaps I just don’t find your particular brand of humour funny,’ her mother threw back, sounding prim. Turning away, she ran a hand down the silk front of a plain, cream blouse.

  ‘This is more like it,’ she said, and Pepper came to stand beside her.

  ‘It’s nice,’ she agreed cautiously. ‘But cream? At a wedding?’

  Her mother scowled so ferociously that Pepper held both her hands up and took a step backwards.

  ‘Hey,’ she said. ‘Don’t shoot – I’m only trying to help.’

  ‘This whole thing is ridiculous anyway,’ her mother went on, pushing the blouse away.

  ‘What, us going shopping?’ Pepper asked.

  ‘No! Well, yes – but I meant the wedding. The whole charade of us being there and pretending everything is hunky bloody dory.’

  Pepper stared at her mother. She never swore usually – not even a ‘bugger’.

  ‘Don’t go, then,’ she said, and her mother wheeled around to face her.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Philippa.’

  ‘Why is that so ridiculous? If you don’t want to go, if you think it will upset you, then stay at home. Lie, if you have to – pretend you’re ill. I’ll back you up. There’s absolutely no point going if it’s going to make you miserable.’

  Her mother retorted with a flat, irritated noise.

  Pepper made herself think of Finn, of seeing him again soon, of his hand in hers as they strolled through the starlit Lisbon streets.

  ‘I’m going to Hamburg next weekend,’ she said, to which her mother’s mouth actually fell open.

  ‘That’s right,’ she went on. ‘I met a man when I was in Portugal – a German man – and, well, I want to see him again, so I’m going.’

  ‘Portugal?’ her mother said, as though she had no idea what Pepper was talking about.

  ‘Yes, Mum – I was there a few days ago. You called me, remember?’

  ‘What about this?’ her mother said, striding away and leaving Pepper mid-sentence. She had spotted another blouse, this time in pale blue.

  ‘I think it’s boring,’ Pepper wanted to scream. ‘Boring like you, constantly ignoring me, constantly making me feel like I don’t count, that I don’t matter.’

  Instead she said, ‘Blue was Bethan’s favourite colour, wasn’t it?’

  There was a horrible, long silence.

  ‘I remember,’ Pepper went on, ‘because she was always so jealous of my bucket-and-spade set. I never had a favourite colour, because I liked all of them, but Bethan was obsessed with blue. She asked me once how old she’d have to be before she could dye her hair blue. I called her Smurf after that. I wonder, if she was here now, which dress she would choose. This one?’ she said, pulling a lace-panelled slip off a nearby rack. ‘Or maybe this?’ she added, shoving a denim pinafore under her mother’s nose.

  ‘Maybe I’ll buy something blue,’ she said, not caring now how much her mother’s face had fallen, and how much fear she could see in her eyes. ‘Then it will be like she’s there at the wedding with you, instead of me. That’s what you would prefer, isn’t it, Mum? That I had died, and Bethan was still here?’

  ‘Stop,’ her mum whispered, her hands raised. ‘Please stop.’

  ‘Why?’ Pepper had broken through her resolve now, the pieces scattered on the floor around her. ‘It’s the truth. I’ve always known it, always felt it.’

  ‘Philippa,’ her mother’s hands were now over her ears and she was shaking her head, her eyelids squeezed together. She was doing what she always did and shutting out the world – shutting out the people she was supposed to love the most. Her misery was palpable, and just as quickly as it had overcome her, Pepper felt her anger ebb away.

  ‘Mum.’ Pepper stepped forwards, but her mother shook her head violently.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t mean it.’

>   But it was a lie. She had meant it – she had meant every word.

  It took her mother a full minute to lower her hands and open her eyes once again. When she did, Pepper was so ashamed of the pain she saw reflected in them that she backed away, hurrying through the shop until she was standing outside on the pavement, her heart racing as the enormity of what she had just done settled over her.

  She had thought herself so smart that morning, had imagined the two of them bonding over dresses and hats, sharing coffee and cake as Pepper told her mother all about Finn. But she had been a fool, she saw that now.

  When her mother finally emerged almost fifteen minutes later, she thrust a carrier bag at Pepper before she had a chance to say anything.

  ‘For you,’ she said.

  Taken completely by surprise, Pepper mumbled a thank you and opened the bag to find a small, square box.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Open it,’ her mother said, tucking her neat bob behind her ears.

  Pepper couldn’t work out how they had gone from a horrible argument to this. She almost didn’t want to open the box, scared that whatever was inside would bring her awful, needless antagonism to the surface again.

  ‘You really shouldn’t have,’ she said, but the next words died on her lips as she eased off the lid. Inside was a gold brooch in the shape of an art palette, coloured cut glass set around its edges in blue, green, yellow, orange, red and pink, and two thin brushes laid across its centre.

  ‘Oh my God.’ Pepper felt a tide of tears rising. ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘I thought so,’ her mother said, shouldering her bag and looking purposefully along the street.

  ‘Now, shall we have that coffee?’

  Pepper could only nod. After years of unimaginative birthday and Christmas presents, her mother had brought her a gift that she loved, that was her.

  It wasn’t a ‘sorry’, a ‘thank you’, or a promise that things would change.

  But it was something.

  Chapter 21

  ‘Pepper!’

  Finn made his way across the arrivals lounge of Hamburg Airport and took her in his arms, planting a proper kiss on her before she had time to get a single word out. All Pepper’s nerves about the journey, flying alone, and – most of all – seeing him again, evaporated as she melted against him, kissing him back with a fervour that would have made any Richard Curtis fan proud.