‘Well,’ Pepper said, still unsure of quite how to respond. ‘He is very lucky to have you both, in that case.’
Finn extracted the last chunk of cheese and offered it to her.
‘I am the lucky one,’ he said, popping it into her open mouth. ‘Because now I have you.’
Leaving the Pauline waitress with clean plates and a huge tip, she and Finn crossed the main road and made their way through an urban market area. Stalls had been set up all along the streets, buskers played music, carts offered everything from ice cream to beer to henna tattoos and everywhere Pepper looked there were happy faces. When Finn pointed out a funfair across the street and suggested a ride on the big wheel, Pepper bulged out her cheeks as if she was going to be sick.
‘The hangover is still lurking,’ she told him. ‘Don’t encourage it.’
They meandered along pavements cluttered with people, Pepper stopping every so often to take photos on her phone of the street art while Finn stood to one side, his hands in his pockets and a gratified expression on his face as he watched her.
‘I like this,’ he said, looping an arm around her shoulder and knitting his fingers together with hers. ‘Seeing you falling in love with the city that I love. It makes me happy.’
Pepper felt, as she always did when he touched her, an enormous flood of warmth. She had never met anyone who lived their life so completely in the moment. Finn did not seem to let anything grind him down – not work, not the past, not his tricky relationship with his father. He could toss all those concerns aside and focus on the here and now, which she had never, ever, been able to do. The more time she spent with Finn, however, the more she was becoming attuned to his way of thinking, and of seeing the world and his place within it. If she could only learn to compartmentalise as he did, Pepper knew she would be happier.
She carried on taking photos, snapping cartoon cats, pink-and-white polka-dot walls and a spray-painted waterfall scene that dominated one side of a building. As Finn led the way north into the buzzing Karolinenviertel neighbourhood, she spotted her first mosaic of the day on a wall outside a boutique clothing store.
‘Hair of the Otto?’ Finn suggested when they drew level with a bar that was blasting reggae music into the street, but Pepper shook her head.
‘I can’t.’ She grimaced. ‘I daren’t risk it.’
‘Poor Pepper pot.’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘Coffee instead?’
She agreed to a peppermint tea, but even that was a struggle to drink. Whatever fizzing nectar Finn had given her in the bedroom that morning was fast wearing off, and as the heat of the day intensified, so did Pepper’s nausea. Loath to be boring, however, she battled on, exclaiming with pleasure when Finn suggested they visit the flea market, or Flohschanze, as it was known in Hamburg, even though the thought of browsing was making her feel weak.
‘I just need to––’ she said, crumpling down to sit on the kerb.
‘Sorry,’ she added, apologising a further three times as Finn crouched beside her.
‘I’m being pathetic, I know.’
He watched her suppress a yawn.
‘Here,’ he said, moving behind her until she could lean back against his chest. ‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked a moment later, his mouth only inches from her ear.
Pepper shivered at the feel of his breath against her neck.
‘That I’m going to miss you when I have to leave tomorrow,’ she said.
Finn rubbed the tip of his nose against her bare shoulder.
‘Perhaps,’ he said, ‘you will not have time to miss me.’
‘What do you mean?’ Pepper half turned so she could see his face.
‘I was supposed to have a meeting next week, about the restaurant,’ he explained. ‘There is talk of opening a second site, but we need some more investment.’
‘That sounds . . . exciting?’
‘I spoke to Clara last night, asked her if she would go alone, because I want to spend more time with you.’
‘I can’t stay here until next week, though.’ Pepper’s face fell. ‘I have to work.’
‘Ja, I know that,’ he said, only now giving in to a wicked grin.
‘But that does not stop me coming to visit you.’
Chapter 26
It felt to Pepper as if she had barely arrived in Hamburg before it was time to leave again, but at least she did so knowing exactly when she would next see Finn. There was obviously a very large geographical issue standing in the way of their relationship – if she could yet call it that – but neither Pepper nor Finn had brought it up in conversation yet. The small matter of a five-hundred-mile distance between them seemed like nothing compared to their growing feelings, and Pepper was reluctant to throw obstacles in their path when they were progressing along it so seamlessly.
Moving work commitments around in order to have free time for him had unfortunately not been easy, and she felt guilty for letting people down at the last minute. When she called a local mum to explain that her weekly life drawing class would not be taking place, Pepper received a rather sanctimonious telling-off and, in a fit of desperation to make it up, had agreed to help out at the woman’s youngest child’s birthday party.
It was always with a certain amount of trepidation that she accepted a booking of this type – not because the kids themselves caused much trouble, even when they were full of enough sugary treats to climb up the walls, run across the ceilings and back down the other side – it was more due to the behaviour of their parents. Over the past three hours, Pepper had experienced a range of complaints, from the hysterical: ‘No, no – Sebastian simply mustn’t do anything involving paint, it’s full of harmful toxins’, to the ridiculous: ‘Jemima must be told that her drawing is the best one, otherwise there’ll be a tantrum, and nobody wants to see one of those today, do they?’, and the well-meaning yet impractical: ‘If Daisy could only use bamboo brushes and vegan glue, that would be great? We’re raising her as animal-product-free and eco-aware.’
The gang of six- and seven-year-olds at the party – including Sebastian, Jemima and Daisy – had all been having a lovely time sticking fake flowers, dried pasta and sprigs of tinsel on their paper plates until their mums and dads butted in, and by four p.m., when the cake was being cut and party bags were being dished out, Pepper was about ready to dig herself a big hole in the beach and climb into it.
She took the longer route home, idling on the high street and browsing through the rails at her favourite charity shop, where she found a pretty lemon-yellow dress that could have been brand new, save for a small tear along the zip. It never failed to baffle Pepper how easily people would discard things, rather than going to the trouble of fixing them. It would only take her ten minutes with a needle and thread to close the hole, and she’d have something nice to wear when Finn arrived.
It had been a hectic few days, but she had somehow managed to fit an entire spring, summer, autumn and winter clean of her house around a mosaic course, two evening candle-making classes and today’s party. Pepper had been grateful for all the distractions – especially as her mother had been in a listless and disinterested mood when Pepper paid her a visit as usual on Tuesday. Despite knowing that her daughter had been in Hamburg, she did not ask how the trip had gone, or anything at all about Finn. The incident with the brooch felt like it had happened to someone else.
Pepper had been dragging her feet as she made her slow way home but quickened her pace as she saw Josephine leaning against her front gate, hurrying out an apology for having kept her waiting.
‘Nonsense, darling.’ Josephine followed her to the door. ‘It couldn’t matter less. I should have rung first to check if you were at home.’
‘Tea?’
‘Lovely,’ Josephine said, following her inside and settling into a squashy armchair in the front room while Pepper headed into the kitchen.
‘Earl Grey if you have it, please.’
‘I haven’t got any biscuits,’ Pepper said a fe
w minutes later, elbowing open the door and gingerly putting two full mugs down on the coffee table. ‘I’m a terrible host.’
‘And I’m a terrible guest,’ countered Josephine. ‘Not only do I show up unannounced, I also forget to bring any cake. Or any gin, for that matter.’
‘Our waistlines will thank us,’ Pepper said, then instantly regretted it. Over the past few weeks, her friend seemed to have shrunk before her eyes.
Josephine laughed merrily when Pepper told her about that morning’s party, rolling her eyes at the mention of demanding parents.
‘I was never like that, of course,’ she mused. ‘My four practically ran wild growing up – they were like the feral cats that used to come into the garden and do their business in my herb patch.’
‘I don’t think my mum would have noticed what I was eating, doing or painting with,’ Pepper said blithely. ‘Even when she was there in the room with me, she felt absent.’
Josephine looked for a moment as though she might pry further, then thought better of it.
‘Anyway.’ Pepper brightened. ‘How are you? How are you feeling?’
‘Fine, all fine.’ Josephine fiddled with the buttons on her blouse. ‘Are you looking forward to our second little jaunt?’
‘Of course!’ Pepper sat forwards in her seat. ‘Barcelona. I still can’t believe it. But are you sure that you want me to come? I mean, I don’t want to impose and––’
‘Oh, do pipe down, darling,’ Josephine said. ‘You are part of this little adventure of mine now, so I’m afraid there’s no wriggling your way out of it.’
Josephine went to cross her legs, only to wince and place her foot back down on the carpet. ‘What’s the matter? Are you hurt?’ Pepper had leapt instinctively to her feet.
‘Just a bit of cramp, that’s all – perfectly normal for an old crone like me.’
‘If that’s the case, then why can’t you look me in the eye?’ Pepper pressed gently. ‘There’s something you’re not telling me.’
Josephine took a deep breath, her hands knotting together in her lap as she stared around at Pepper’s living-room walls, at the photos, paintings and large vase of cabbage roses in the window – a gift from a happy customer.
‘I went to London this morning,’ she began. ‘On the train.’
‘Right . . .’ Pepper had returned to her seat, her mug clasped in both hands.
‘I was there to meet with a doctor.’
Josephine fixed Pepper with a look that stilled her.
‘A specialist in Parkinson’s disease.’
Pepper wanted to stick her fingers in her ears and scream. She tried to speak, but nothing but suffocated air came out. Josephine’s mouth was downturned, and her eyes had lost their trademark foxy glint.
‘You’re not trying to tell me that you––?’ Pepper asked, her voice catching in her throat. Josephine struggled for a few moments to remain composed, then she smiled a sad sort of smile.
‘I’m afraid so. The little horror has progressed to stage three now, which is dire enough that I will soon have to take up my daughter Georgina’s offer and join her over in Australia,’ she said. ‘Terribly frustrating to be losing my independence, of course, but Georgie is adamant.’
Pepper had lost the ability to speak and mouthed at her friend in horror.
‘So, you see why I needed to go on these trips now – and also why I could not risk going alone,’ Josephine went on calmly, as if she was discussing a shopping list, not a debilitating illness.
‘I manage quite well, most of the time,’ she went on. ‘But lately it’s been . . . Well, I have found it rather more difficult.’
‘I . . . I’m so sorry.’ Pepper put down her tea, her hands flailing uselessly in the air. ‘I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe it. It’s awful.’
And it was. It was all too much to take in – first the story of Josephine’s big love affair, and now this devastating diagnosis and the fact that she was going to move away to the other side of the world. So soon after Pepper had found her, too. She felt the weight of everything sitting heavily across her, the panic rising like lava inside her chest.
Illness frightened her, but death terrified her – the thought of losing anyone else she cared about made it feel as if the world had been whipped away from underneath her, as if she was about to plummet to earth without a parachute, with nothing and nobody to stop it. Knowing that her friend was in pain made Pepper want to weep, but she knew she must be stronger than that; she must be as brave as her dear friend was being.
‘Do you know,’ she said shakily, when Josephine fell silent, ‘I have just this moment remembered that I hid a packet of Hobnobs in the microwave for emergencies. Can I interest you in one?’
Josephine managed a smile. ‘Attagirl!’
Pepper made it as far as the hallway before the tears came. Running through into the kitchen, she scrubbed them furiously from her cheeks with a tea towel, but she could not stem the incoming tide of dread. She already knew enough to know that there was no cure for Parkinson’s disease. Josephine was going to become increasingly frail and there was nothing either of them could do about it.
Josephine would not be drawn on the subject further, except to say her symptoms were being managed by her medical team, so over the next few hours, they chatted about anything and everything else, dipping biscuits into their tea while each did their best to sidestep around the conversation crater Josephine’s bombshell had created. They discussed Barcelona, and Josephine asked after Finn, braying with delight when she heard that he would be flying in the day after tomorrow.
Pepper made them a simple dinner of vegetarian sausage stew, served with soft, crusty white rolls that Josephine happily slathered in butter, declaring the feast ‘delectable’. She seemed more relaxed now that she’d shared her secret, but Pepper was still reeling. By the time she had walked her friend home and traipsed slowly back through the muggy Aldeburgh streets, she felt exhausted, yet wired at the same time, and headed straight out to the studio.
The idea had come to her in Hamburg, as Finn, his hand in hers, took her around the city, showing her one impressive landmark after another. He knew so much, and was so passionate in the way that he spoke, that Pepper had found herself enthralled. She wanted so much to recreate that feeling now and have something to show for her time spent there, her time spent with him. She loved the idea of a mosaic, not made of broken pieces but of painted tiles, each slotting perfectly into place to make a whole.
She began by sketching out the striking medieval bell tower of the Rathaus across five blank tiles, then lay a further eight down on the table and drew the outline of the Elbphilharmonie concert hall, complete with its cresting-wave rooftop. In the courtyard of the Mahnmal St Nikolai church, Finn had shown her a haunting bronze sculpture that he loved called ‘Angel on Earth’, which was of a woman stretching away from hundreds of grasping hands. Pepper decided that she would recreate it now, and unthinkingly gave the figure her own features.
As Pepper worked, she thought about Finn, of the way he had looked at her as they lay tangled together between the sheets, of how much they had laughed as they strutted around like Tina Turner, and how proudly he had introduced her to his closest friends.
For once, she didn’t obsess over the little details, choosing instead to trust her instincts. She stayed there for a long time; until the light drained from the day and was replaced by a thick and heavy blackness. Her hands reached for her paints, for more blank tiles, for the volume dial on the stereo.
The only time she paused was when she thought she heard a noise outside in the garden, felt the unmistakable weight of another person’s gaze. But when she turned abruptly to look, there was nothing there.
Nothing but the shadows.
Chapter 27
Pepper broke the surface of the swimming pool with a gasp, her eyes and throat stinging from the chlorine. She was out of breath, panting with effort, but it felt good to move her limbs and get her he
art pumping.
She had stayed up until the early hours in her studio the previous night, crouching over the table until her shoulders and back ached, wholly focused on her work. The tiles she had painted were now laid out on the workbench drying, and for the first time in years, Pepper had not destroyed a single one.
When she woke up that morning, she had thought immediately of Josephine, the news of her dear friend’s devastating diagnosis and the fact that she would soon be moving away to the other side of the world smashing into her afresh. Those thoughts had followed her here to the pool, chasing her under the surface as she kicked and pulled her way up, and down, and back, and forth. And it was not just Josephine who was with her, but Bethan, too. Her sister had so loved to swim, had so often run fearlessly into the sea, leapt off the diving board from its highest tier.
The fact that the water had been the thing to take her had always felt immeasurably cruel, but Pepper knew it was madness to blame it. Now, when she swam, it was as much for her sister as herself.
Heaving herself up the rickety metal steps five minutes later and wrapping her towel around herself, Pepper stood shivering for a moment on the coarse wet tiles, the sounds of the pool echoing around her. She could see that the smaller children’s bathing area was being cleared for a private group, and as she reached the ladies’ changing room entrance beside it, she recognised some of the residents and staff members from The Maltings.
Thankfully, however, Samuel did not seem to be among them. She had no real desire to bump into him when she was red-eyed, wet-haired and wearing a swimming costume that had seen better decades.
‘Pepper, is that you?’
She froze, hardly daring to turn around.
Samuel had just emerged from the men’s changing room clad in nothing but blue shorts, a pair of goggles dangling from a rubber strap around his neck.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked as he approached.
‘Yeah.’ Pepper sniffed. ‘It’s just the chlorine in here – makes my eyes water.’
Hello, Again Page 14
