Tears threaten once more and I turn away to look at the photographs on my left. Emma’s only got four questions about the inspiration behind the subject matter and how long it took to compile the material for the exhibition, and as she finishes, I hear her ask him for a selfie. I cringe a little, but he just laughs and agrees.
‘Are we having one with Orla too?’ he asks, and before I can protest he takes my arm, drawing me closer, and suddenly I’m pressed against his side with his arm around my shoulder.
It’s so strange to be this close to him again. Even after five years apart, he feels familiar. The scent of his cologne makes my head spin, which is strange considering he never wore it back then. He smells completely different in fact, but there’s something underneath the spicy aromatic scent of his fancy cologne that my senses seem to recognise. Some pheromone, perhaps, or something else uniquely Aiden that gives me a pang, deep down inside.
‘Aw, that’s a lovely one!’ Emma says, peering closely at her phone. ‘Thank you so much, Mr Byrne.’
‘Call me Aiden, please,’ he says pleasantly.
He’s still got his hand on my shoulder, and I wish he’d let me go because I don’t want him to know how much I’m shaking. From the corner of my eye, I spot a man hovering, obviously waiting to speak to Aiden. As soon as he sees Emma put her phone back in her bag, he darts forward and draws Aiden away from us.
‘I’ll come and speak to you later, Orla,’ he calls, before crossing the room to join another group of people.
‘He’s lovely!’ Emma says. ‘I’ve forwarded you the recording of the interview, by the way. And the selfies.’
‘Why?’ I pull a face. The last thing I need is to torture myself by listening to his voice. I didn’t watch his documentaries because I knew it would awaken the painful longing I’ve tried to repress all these years. Just like seeing him here tonight is doing now.
‘Because of your face. And the fact you’ve barely taken your eyes off him since he went to stand with those other people.’
‘I have not! And what’s wrong with my face?’
‘Nothing,’ she says innocently, ducking her head. ‘Anyway, I’ve just had a text from my boyfriend asking me to meet him for a drink, so I might go soon if it’s okay with you?’
‘Oh!’ I’m dismayed she’s leaving so early, but maybe it’s for the best. It’s the perfect excuse for me to slip away too. ‘Okay. That’s fine.’
‘Thank you so much for asking me tonight. My friends are going to be so impressed. Especially with the selfie!’
I laugh, still incredulous that Aiden’s become something of a celebrity. He’s probably completely unaware.
‘I’ll look around the rest of the exhibition then I’ll get going,’ she says, checking her chunky silver watch. ‘You’re going to stay, aren’t you?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘Are you sure? He keeps looking over at you, you know. And he said he’d come and speak to you again.’
‘He doesn’t keep …’ I look over at Aiden just as he looks up at me. Our eyes lock for a fraction of a second before I look quickly away.
‘See, I told you. He definitely wants to speak to you. How friendly were you guys, anyway? Was there a bit of romance?’
‘Maybe.’ I feel myself flush slightly and turn away to hide my embarrassment.
‘Really? Wow, wait until I tell my friends. Do you think you’d get back together?’
‘No!’
‘Why not?’ Emma jiggles my arm excitedly. ‘Look at the way he’s looking at you. He’s surrounded by people, but it’s like you’re the only person he sees.’
‘Stop it!’ I turn my back on Aiden, determined not to look. ‘Come on, let’s look at the rest of the exhibition.’ We move on to the next section of photographs. ‘I suppose you’re one of those romantic girly girls, who believes in true love that lasts forever and ever?’
‘Of course I am. Why, aren’t you?’ She cocks her head, incredulous that I might not be.
‘No,’ I say, equally incredulous that she’d think that I would be.
‘That’s so depressing! Why not?’
I hesitate. That’s a good question. Especially considering my relationship with Aiden. ‘It’s not that I don’t believe in love, I just don’t believe it can last forever.’
‘But that’s so sad. My grandparents have been married forever and they still hold hands. My mum and dad are still happy too. The old couple who lived next door to us when I was growing up died within a week of each other because they couldn’t live without each other.’
‘I doubt it was like that really. They must have both been ill. Did they check the carbon monoxide levels in their house?’
‘Don’t be mean. She died from cancer and he had a heart attack a week later because he couldn’t cope with the grief.’
‘Oh.’ I wince. ‘I feel bad now. That’s really sad.’
‘Exactly. There are examples of everlasting true love everywhere you look. You just have to work at it. My mum says that’s what people these days don’t understand. They expect everything to be perfect all the time, and at the first sign of trouble people bow out. But life’s just a lot of ups and downs, and you get through it together.’
‘Well, I’m sure she’s right,’ I say, ‘but finding someone you want to spend your life with is a challenge in the first place. I’ve certainly had no luck so far.’
‘What about Aiden? What was wrong with him?’
Unable to stop myself, I look back over my shoulder to where Aiden’s laughing with someone. I can hear the rich, warm tones of his laughter from here. ‘Nothing was wrong with Aiden. He was pretty perfect really. But we only had a short time together. Just one summer, when I was about your age, and neither of us was ready for a relationship. Our lives aren’t compatible.’
Emma pulls a sad face. ‘That’s a shame. Maybe you should start over again. See where it goes now you’re both older and wiser.’
‘I have a boyfriend, remember. Besides, Aiden travels the world pretty much constantly. You know he lives in a tent, right? No thank you. There’s no going back now. Besides, Aiden might have a girlfriend now. He could be married for all I know.’
‘If he is, he shouldn’t be looking at you like that.’
‘Like what?’ Glancing back at Aiden, I find him looking at me again. Our eyes meet and he doesn’t look away, nor smile, and neither do I. Instead, we just stare at each other and even though there are people all around us, it’s like we’re the only two people in the room. I’m rooted to the spot, my blood fizzing in my veins, heart thudding so hard I can feel it in my scalp, my fingers, my toes.
‘Ha! Told you.’ Emma laughs and nudges me with her shoulder so that I break our gaze and look at her, blinking like I’m just waking up from some kind of hypnosis. ‘And you’re looking at him in exactly the same way he’s looking at you. Right, I’d better go or else I’ll be late for the love of my life.’
‘Wait, I’ll come with you.’ I look around for somewhere to leave my empty champagne flute.
‘Don’t you dare!’ She touches my arm. ‘Aiden invited you. He obviously wants you here. He’ll be offended if you leave so early. Besides, think how much money you spent on that dress and having your hair done. You can’t waste that.’ She winks, seeming suddenly older than her twenty-two years. And my twenty-seven, come to think of it. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘Well, be careful in this storm!’ I call after her. She raises her hand and then she’s gone, weaving her way through the crowded room and out through the door.
I feel lost without her. Standing on my own in a room full of strangers isn’t my idea of fun. But she’s right, it would seem rude if I left early. Aiden might belong in the past, but he’s an important part of that past, and I owe it to him to be here, cheering him on and supporting him on his big night. It doesn’t matter that being in the same room with him feels dangerous. I’m a grown woman. I’m strong enough to cope.
Glancing up, I find his eyes on me again. Christ, why does he have to keep looking at me like that? Feeling flustered, I move away towards the far corner of the room. It hurts me to do so, but I don’t need his lingering looks making me believe the impossible is possible. We can’t go back; we can only go forward.
‘Hello, Orla.’ A woman with long dark hair taps me on the shoulder. ‘Do you remember us? Mia and Keaton?’ She indicates a tall guy behind her, his long dreadlocks tied up in a ponytail.
‘Of course I remember you!’ I say, recognising them at once. I’m happy to see them again. I only met them once five years ago when I was with Aiden, but they were absolutely lovely. ‘It’s so lovely to see you. How are you both?’
‘We’re great, thanks! We’ve got a little boy now, and another one on the way.’ Mia smooths her hands over her bump proudly.
‘Congratulations! When are you due?’
Mia and I chat about babies while Keaton fiddles with his tie, looking like he wants to rip it off along with the suit he’s obviously been forced to wear.
‘Have you managed to speak to Aiden yet?’
‘Just a few words.’
‘He’ll be so pleased you came. He was hoping you would. He’s never got over you, you know.’
‘Mia!’ Keaton hisses.
My stomach gives a painful tug and I feel the gallery slant, slightly. ‘I’m sure he has,’ I say, forcing a laugh.
‘No, he hasn’t.’
I smile tightly, not wanting to hear this. It’s too painful and it doesn’t change anything. Aiden and I can’t work.
Luckily, Aiden chooses that moment to make a speech so I don’t have to answer. Someone brings out a microphone and Aiden thanks everyone for coming. He’s adorably humble and sweet, and I’m sure everyone in the room is in love with him, not just me. As soon as he finishes, people flock towards him, eager to congratulate him and say goodbye before making their way home.
Oh no, I don’t think I can say goodbye to him. Just the thought of speaking to him again sends my pulse spiralling upwards.
‘I’m going to have to go,’ I say, checking my watch. ‘Can you tell Aiden goodbye from me? I’m sorry. He’s so busy and I’ll miss my tube if I don’t go now and I have to be up early in the morning.’
‘You can’t leave yet!’ Mia gasps. ‘You need to talk to Aiden.’
‘He’s busy,’ I say, already drawing away from her. ‘I don’t want to interrupt.’
‘Give me your number, then,’ Mia pleads. ‘I’ll get him to call you. He’s staying in London for at least another week.’
I hesitate. ‘I’m sorry but I don’t think that’s a good idea. Good luck with the baby!’
I feel bad as I rush away, but not bad enough to stay. Collecting my coat, I hurry from the building into the storm outside. It’s raining now, and the bitter wind feels like it’s trying to drive me back inside the gallery, but I put my head down and push on, determined to get to the tube station in time for the next train.
I’m glad of the rain because it hides my tears when I start to cry. I knew I shouldn’t have come tonight. To see Aiden again after all this time, to have him so tantalisingly close, to share lingering looks and then have to leave, is pure agony. A small voice at the back of my mind tells me I needn’t have left. Tells me it was cowardly to leave. But what was the alternative? To stay and risk crying in front of him? No thanks. I’d like my dignity to remain intact.
I reach the entrance to the tube station and run down the steps to my platform. The train’s already there, its electric doors wide open, welcoming me into its brightly lit interior. I hesitate, knowing that the moment this train leaves, there’s no going back. I’ll have left Aiden behind forever.
There’s no going back anyway, I remind myself, only forward.
I step onto the train with seconds to spare before the doors close. Someone else is cutting it fine, too. I hear a shout and running footsteps, and they make it onto the train just as the doors slide shut behind them. I turn to say something about them almost getting chopped in half, but my words die on my tongue when I see who it is.
‘Aiden!’
His eyes fix on mine and all the hairs on the back of my neck lift as he steps towards me. He can’t be here. He’s supposed be back in the gallery, at his own exhibition. He’ll have to get off. He’ll have to go back.
But even as I’m opening my mouth to speak, the train starts forward, rumbling onwards into the tunnel, and it’s just me and him staring at each other across the carriage.
Chapter 2
Five years earlier – Hawksley Village, UK
‘Orla! Orla, where are you?’ Phil bawls across the office, making several heads turn and me jump and spill the coffee I’m carrying back to his desk.
‘I’m here, I’m here,’ I say, hurrying forward as coffee dribbles down the side of his mug, burning my fingers. I hold it away from me so as not to stain my white jeans before placing it gingerly on his ring-marked desk. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Oh, there you are. I just wondered where you’d got to, that’s all.’ Leaning forward, he peers at his computer screen, stabbing the delete key several times with a short, chunky finger.
‘I was just making you another coffee. You asked me to, remember?’ I’m slightly concerned that he’s drinking too much coffee. I’ve made him about seven already today and it’s only 2 p.m. All that caffeine can’t be good for his blood pressure. He’s already a funny purple colour and I don’t want to be the cause of his death.
‘Oh yes, sorry, I just got a bit excited for a moment. There’s a fire at the recycling centre. The whole lot’s gone up in flames. We need to get down there and see what’s going on. Come on, grab your stuff.’ He’s already on his feet, pulling on his jacket as he downs the coffee I placed in front of him.
‘But we’re supposed to be interviewing that wildlife guy at three, aren’t we? Have we got time to do both?’
‘Oh shit, yeah, I forgot about him.’ Phil swigs down the last of his coffee and sets the mug down on the desk. ‘Can you ring him and postpone? Or do you want to go on your own?’
I hesitate. ‘I can go on my own, it’s not a problem.’
‘Sure? Do you know what you’re going to ask him?’
‘I’ve got a list of questions ready. We talked about it last week, didn’t we?’
‘Of course, we did. That’s great. Good girl.’ He fusses about him, pulling his bag from beneath his desk and checking he’s got his notebook and pen. ‘He sounded like a decent guy when I spoke to him on the phone. Irish fella.’
‘Oh good, I’m sure I’ll be fine. Don’t forget your keys,’ I say, scooping them up from where they’re nestled behind his keyboard. ‘Have you got your phone?’
‘Yep.’ He pats the pocket on his shirt and smiles at me before turning to leave. ‘See you later then, hon. Good luck.’
‘Thanks. You too.’
I feel excited as I go back to my desk. In fact, I want to jump up and down and squeal. This will be my first solo interview for the Hawksley Gazette. I started working here six months ago, and every other time I’ve been shadowing Phil or one of the other reporters. But I feel like I’m ready and I’m pretty sure it won’t be taxing. It’s just a short interview with a guy who’s photographing otters down by the river. My biggest concern is not being able to find the farm where we’re supposed to meet. How unprofessional would it be if I turn up late to my first proper assignment? Or miss the appointment altogether? My stomach tightens with nerves as it gets closer to the time to leave, and I go to the toilet to check my appearance and reapply my lipstick.
I know I look younger than my twenty-two years. When I got the job, I had my long blonde curly hair cut so I’d look more professional, but the short bob has made me look like a schoolgirl. I don’t want this photographer to think I’m on a work placement or something. Having the job title of trainee reporter is bad enough. Not that I don’t love the job or anything. I do. I really do. Every morning wh
en I walk through the big glass doors into the building, I feel so happy I could do a twirl like Maria Von Trapp on a mountain. I suspect it might not go down too well with our ferocious receptionist though, so I never do. But it’s my first job after graduating, and I feel so lucky to be working here. It may only be the local paper, serving Hawksley, a small rural town in central England that no one’s heard of, but I know it’s great experience.
After applying another coat of mascara and some blusher, I give my stupidly short hair one final rake through with my fingers. It’s no good, I still look about 16. And it’s not just the hair; my freckles don’t do me any favours either. Nor my big, wide-set eyes. Mum says they make me look like a doll, which is hardly the image I want to project in my job. I fish out my black-rimmed glasses and put them on. I feel foolish wearing them when I have 20:20 vision (they’re just clear glass lenses), but I think they make me look more intelligent. I slip them on and look at myself, before pushing them up to my forehead. On or off? I spend another couple of minutes pushing them up and down, trying to decide, then I pout a little and frown to see if that helps make me look less innocent. I’m just baring my teeth in a fierce snarl when the door opens and Chrissie from accounts comes in.
She stops and looks at me in surprise. ‘You okay, love? What’s up?’
‘Nothing! I’m fine. Just off to interview a photographer,’ I say, slightly hysterically.
‘Oh, great.’ Her face clears. ‘Good luck!’
‘Thanks.’
She goes into a cubicle and I roll my eyes at myself in the mirror. It’s time to go. I shove the glasses back in my bag, decision made. I’m not wearing them. I don’t want to have to worry about them on top of my first solo assignment.
Hawksley is quite a new town, made up mostly of redbrick buildings and a pedestrianised town square with a good quota of high-street shops. There’s still the odd original black-and-white timber building nestled in with the new, but mostly this town now belongs to the young couples and new families that are moving here in droves. The residents in the surrounding villages are furious about how Hawksley has grown in recent years, eating into the surrounding countryside as developers build new housing estates and schools to meet demand. I feel slightly bewildered by it myself; having lived here practically all my life, I can’t wait to get out of the place. To see all these people moving in is weird. But then looking at it through their eyes I can see the attraction. House prices are lower than the nearby cities, and the town has a semi-rural but touristy feel about it, mostly due to the river that winds round the outskirts of the town centre.
The Five-Year Plan: The utterly heart-warming and feel good rom com of 2020 Page 2
