‘Will you be okay?’ I say, trying to ignore the rush of heat between my legs. ‘Do you need a pillow or blanket?’
‘No, I’m good.’
‘Well, help yourself to anything.’
‘Thanks.’ He raises an eyebrow and sniggers slightly. I don’t know what he’s laughing at, and I’m not sure I want to, so I go back into the bathroom to brush my teeth. When I get back out, he’s laid his sleeping bag out on the floor behind the sofa, and is finishing off his beer.
‘Goodnight then!’ I call as I go into my bedroom.
‘Goodnight, Orla. See you in the morning.’
Once the door is shut between us, I stand for a moment, listening to the sounds of him moving around in the lounge. The kitchen tap gushes as he runs himself a glass of water, then the bathroom door closes. It’s strange having someone else’s noises in my flat. I’m used to the sounds of traffic, sirens, and occasional rowdiness from the street below, but not the sound of the toilet flushing or footsteps crossing the lounge.
And it’s even stranger that it’s Aiden.
What the hell am I doing letting him stay? My heart flutters in panic. I should be distancing myself from him so I don’t get hurt, not inviting him back into my life. What happens when he leaves again? Will it hurt just as much as last time?
Climbing into bed, I pull the covers up to my chin and stare up into the darkness. The one good thing about having him here in my flat, with all his stuff all over the place, is that he’s likely to get on my nerves. Who knows, maybe I’ll be glad to see the back of him when he leaves in two weeks. Having him here might be the antidote I need to get over him at last. He’s bound to have changed over the years, and so am I. We’re sure to be different. So different, perhaps, that we might not get on at all these days. It’s different already, isn’t it? Look at us, settling down to sleep in different rooms. Five years ago, we’d never have had this much space between us. We were always together. Even before we slept together, we slept together. I was always touching him or leaning against him or hugging him. Now I get the sense that we’re circling each other, scared to get too close. Or maybe that’s just me. Whichever, I’m comforted by the notion that this might be the nudge I need to let go of Aiden. I don’t have to let go of the lovely memories, but it might mean that I can finally move on.
Chapter 19
The next morning, we go to the park. The rain has stopped, but the sky is still steely-grey and the wind blows cold. Everything is dripping: the bare trees, the bushes, the metal fence, the wooden benches. I’m surprised to see other people out and about so early on such a damp, dismal Saturday morning. There’s a couple of people jogging, a woman walking a basset hound, and an old couple walking hand in hand along the path.
It’s nice to be outside in the fresh air though. Taking a walk in the park isn’t something I’d usually do. It occurs to me that most of my life is spent indoors these days, either in my flat, at the office, or stuck on a crowded tube. I even exercise inside a gym. The summer I spent with Aiden was probably the most time I’ve ever spent outdoors. I loved it too. Once Aiden left, it all stopped, which is sad really. He’d taught me so much about the local birds and wildlife, but apart from hanging a birdfeeder and a bug hotel in the communal garden of my block of flats, I didn’t really do anything with my newly acquired knowledge. Spending so much time with him had influenced me in other ways though. He’d made me more environmentally conscious about the amount of energy I use and waste I produce, and I’d switched to being vegetarian, with a view to becoming vegan eventually.
‘I can’t believe you haven’t got a waterproof coat,’ Aiden says, grinning at my navy-blue duffel coat.
‘Why? This is fine! It’s not even raining that much anymore.’ I stuff my hands deep into its pockets and tuck my chin into the yellow scarf tied around my neck.
‘What happened to that yellow one you used to have?’
‘I lost it, somehow. Besides, it was only a thin summer coat. It wouldn’t have done today.’
It gives me a warm feeling that he remembers what I used to wear five years ago.
‘You look like Paddington Bear in that,’ he says, and snaps a photo of me.
‘Hey! No photos, please.’
‘Why not? I don’t have enough photos of you!’
‘You don’t need any photos of me. Just look for your birds.’
Laughing, he returns to scanning the trees. He’s wearing a black jacket and blue jeans and his camera hangs around his neck. Dark stubble lines his jaw, and I think how much it suits him, adding definition to his face and making him look older and sexier. I remember how his stubble used to feel when he kissed me, and …
Okay, let’s just backtrack here and focus on how messy my lounge was this morning after he’d upended his bag to sort through his clothes. And his sleeping bag is still unfurled behind the sofa. Not to mention the amount of washing up he produces. Although, to be fair, he did offer to do that himself.
‘See anything?’ I ask, stifling a yawn.
‘Not yet.’ He gives me a look. ‘Are you bored already? We’ve only just got here.’
‘I know! I’m tired, that’s all, but I’m enjoying the fresh air.’ I tip my head back, just as the branch above me drips water directly into my eye. Glad he didn’t see, I wipe it away with a gloved finger. ‘I was just thinking that I don’t spend enough time outdoors these days.’
‘You should get out more. It’s good for you.’
‘I know. But since you left, I’ve not really spent any time with nature at all.’
‘That’s a shame.’ Aiden frowns down at his camera, fiddling with a dial on the top.
‘I know. It is really.’ Despite the grey sky and skeleton trees, the park is still beautiful. The neatly trimmed grass and shrubbery is pleasing, and though the branches appear to be devoid of birds this morning, there’s always the squirrels. One scampers towards us, obviously used to people bringing food. Squatting down, Aiden produces a monkey nut from his pocket and holds it out so the squirrel comes closer. It reaches out with its two front paws to take the nut. I expect it to run off immediately, but it stays on the path to eat while Aiden snaps a few photos. I’d forgotten how still Aiden can be. How deeply calm he is. He has an intensity about him when he works – the ability to focus his entire attention on that one thing he’s trying to photograph.
Finishing the nut, the squirrel’s bushy tail twitches as it sniffs the air, eager for more food.
‘Do you want to feed it, Orla?’
‘No thanks. It might bite me.’
‘It won’t bite! Look how tame it is!’
‘It’s lulling you into a false sense of security. It’ll go in a rage in a minute and rip your face off.’
Lowering his camera, he smiles at the squirrel. ‘You wouldn’t do that, would you?’ he says, passing it another nut.
My knees go weak. Who can resist a man that’s kind to animals?
‘Here,’ he says to me, reaching into his pockets again, this time bringing out a handful of sunflower seeds. ‘See if it will take these.’
‘Oh great,’ I say nervously, holding out my palm so he can fill it with seeds. ‘So, I don’t just get to pass it a nut, I actually have it eating out of my hand, do I?’
‘Yep.’
The squirrel eyes me beadily as I squat down with my handful of seeds. Its whiskers quiver as it sniffs the air, then it moves towards me, placing its paws on my thumb as it eats the seeds from my hand. I close my eyes briefly at the sensation, forcing myself to focus on how cute it is, rather than considering how many fleas it might have, or how sharp its teeth and claws look.
‘Perfect,’ Aiden says, as he refocuses his camera lens and starts clicking away.
‘You better not be getting me in any of these photographs,’ I mutter.
‘Just the squirrel.’
‘Good.’
He laughs as he takes his eye away from the camera, then deliberately focuses on me and takes another pho
to.
‘Oi!’ I say, and the squirrel takes fright and races off up the nearest tree. Straightening up, I brush the last of the sunflower seeds onto the floor. ‘You better not get any ideas about standing me in the centre of Trafalgar Square with a handful of sunflower seeds. I don’t want a pigeon on my head.’
Aiden chuckles as he stares down at his camera, checking out the photographs. ‘Now there’s an idea,’ he murmurs. His hair’s fallen forward over his forehead again, and he flicks it back with a jerk of his head. I walk on to stop myself from staring.
‘Hey, where are you going?’ he says, catching up with me.
‘Nowhere, just walking. Enjoying the cool damp air.’
‘At least it’s not pouring with rain.’
‘True. You used to say that you tried to go to warmer places in the winter. You obviously timed your exhibition wrong, having to come back here in November.’
He shrugs. ‘I’m moving back to Ireland, so I may as well get used to the cold and the damp. Besides, last winter I was in the Arctic so there’s no comparison really.’
‘Wow!’ I glance up at him then away again. ‘I can’t imagine all the places you’ve been to and all the things you’ve seen.’
‘No? Well, that’s because you didn’t come with me.’
‘True.’ I wince slightly, not wanting to return to our conversation after his exhibition, when he accused me of not being bothered when he left. An uncomfortable silence hangs between us for a moment, then he sighs.
‘I’ll have to take you through my photos some time.’
‘Yes, definitely. I’d love to see them,’ I say, sounding almost too eager. ‘Where was your favourite place? India?’
As soon as I say it, I regret it. Why did I have to mention India? It’s like I’m deliberately trying to take the conversation back to him leaving.
‘No,’ he says, sounding annoyed. ‘I hated every moment of India.’
‘Oh.’ I feel oddly put out. Part of the reason I let him go without a fuss was because I knew India was a place he really wanted to see. I didn’t want to stand in the way of that. It’s a slap in the face to find he didn’t really enjoy it.
Why didn’t you come back then?
I can’t really say that though. It was me who banned all contact. And if he thought I was glad to see the back of him at the airport, then maybe he didn’t feel like he could. My stomach turns over at the thought.
‘Is the pond this way?’ Aiden’s voice jolts me out of my reverie as we come to a fork in the path.
‘Huh? Oh yeah.’ We take the left-hand path and walk down to the large pond. Aside from a robin, a pigeon and a couple of blackbirds, we’ve seen nothing out of the ordinary as far as birdlife is concerned. And when we reach the pond, there’s nothing more exotic than a group of swans. They are beautiful though. Aiden photographs them as they sail gracefully towards us through the still water.
‘I bet you’ve got hundreds of photographs of swans,’ I say, as he kneels, clicking away.
‘I feel like I’ve got hundreds of photographs of everything. But there’s always that one special one that could be waiting. The light’s not great today, but you never know.’
I stay silent as he works, not wanting to distract him. The clouds thin a little, allowing the pale winter sun to glow through and the flat grey water instantly looks more attractive, its surface sparkling as it ripples in the wake of the swans. I step back as they approach, but Aiden stays put as the large white birds crowd around him, expecting some bread or seed to come their way. He doesn’t even move when they peck at his boots and tug at his trousers. I move further away to sit on a nearby bench.
One pecks at Aiden’s camera lens and he stands up quickly. I laugh, and he turns to look at me, laughing too.
‘It could’ve been worse,’ I say. ‘It could have been your nose.’
‘Yeah, true.’ He digs into another one of his pockets and sprinkles some seed on the ground before coming to sit next to me.
‘What have you got?’ I ask, shuffling closer so I can see his camera.
‘Meh, nothing much,’ he says, scrolling through.
‘Did you get it pecking the lens?’
‘No. Self-preservation took over.’ He laughs then leans forward to look past me, towards a small wooden hut in the distance. ‘Do you think they sell coffee in there?’
‘Maybe. If they’re open.’
‘Shall I go and see?’
‘Go on then.’
I smile as he gets up and walks along the path to the booth. I can’t imagine it will be open, but you never know. He disappears around the corner, and to my surprise, reappears a few minutes later carrying two cups of coffee.
‘Hurray!’ I cheer, as he gets closer. He grins and sits down next to me on the bench.
‘So, weren’t you invited to whatever your boyfriend’s doing tonight?’
‘No.’ Hearing Aiden refer to James as my boyfriend causes a pang deep down in my stomach. I duck my head and blow on the steam rising from my coffee. ‘He’s gone to Manchester for his grandmother’s birthday party.’
‘Why weren’t you invited?’
‘Me? No, why would I be invited?’
He pulls a face, puzzled. ‘Well, usually if you’re dating someone, you take them to family events, don’t you? Even I know that, and I don’t date.’
‘Oh!’ I shrug. ‘It didn’t even occur to me, to be honest. I probably wouldn’t have gone anyway.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s too soon for that kind of thing. If it was local, I might have minded not being invited, but it’s in Manchester so would have involved a weekend away.’
‘Oh no! Not a whole weekend! I’d have thought you’d be glad to get out of your flat for a weekend at least.’
‘Well, it’s a good job I didn’t go, isn’t it?’ I say, ignoring the jibe about my flat. ‘I wouldn’t have been here for you if I’d have gone.’
Aiden smiles and looks away. The swans have finished their seed and are floating back out across the pond.
‘We were meant to be going out last night, actually,’ I say, after a few moments have passed. ‘But he had too much on so he cancelled.’
Aiden frowns at the swans, then turns to frown at me some more. ‘He cancelled you?’
I shrug. ‘It’s no big deal. I was pleased actually because I was so tired and the weather was so bad. And then you showed up, so …’ I leave the rest of the sentence hanging and sip my coffee instead.
‘Wow, obviously you two are mad for each other,’ Aiden says sarcastically.
‘Says the man who doesn’t date.’
‘Says the man who couldn’t keep his hands off you.’
‘Says the man who went to India and didn’t even like it!’
‘Oh!’ His eyebrows shoot up and he laughs in surprise. ‘Well, do you know why I didn’t like India?’ he says, his voice rising with indignation. ‘Because you didn’t come with me, that’s why. I spent the whole time I was there pining for you.’
‘Why didn’t you come back then?’ I say, annoyed.
‘Come back? What to? The girl who didn’t even cry when we said goodbye? The girl who didn’t want to keep in touch with me?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous! You know why I didn’t want you to write! I knew it would be too painful. Just like crying all over you at the airport would have made it ten times worse!’
‘No, it wouldn’t have!’ He stares off across the water, his jaw tense. ‘If you miss someone, you contact them and you draw comfort from that. If you care, you tell them so.’
I sit back, bewildered. ‘Well, I’m sorry, Aiden, but I can’t change the past. You didn’t cry either!’
Aiden says nothing, just continues to watch the swans’ steady progress across to the reedbeds on the other side of the pond. I can’t believe he’s playing the injured party when it was him who left. He left me, not the other way round! Doesn’t he know how sad I was when he left? How I cried for weeks? How I s
topped eating? No, I don’t suppose he does.
I open my mouth to tell him how much I hurt, but then shut it again. To admit it, feels weak. Instead, I reach for the hand that’s resting on his leg and cover it with my own. He looks down, and for a moment I think he might shake me off, but then he turns his hand and slips his fingers through mine, squeezing gently.
I still don’t understand why it feels so right when he holds my hand.
‘If you’d come back …’ My voice trails away, thinking of all that could have been if he had. All that we lost. It’s hard to express how I feel when I don’t want to open up too much to him. ‘I kept hoping you would.’
He looks at me. ‘Why didn’t you ask me to?’
‘What?’ I can’t help laughing. ‘Why would I stop you from doing your job? I just wanted what was best for you, and living with me in Hawksley, or even here, in London, would never have made you happy.’
Aiden looks away again, the expression on his face almost anguished. ‘You knew how I felt about you, Orla. What we had was special. Surely you know that?’
‘Yes, but I wanted to keep it that way. I was sure you’d have moved on and found someone better.’
‘There is no one better than you, Orla,’ he says in a low voice. ‘Trust me, I’ve been all around the world, and I’ve never met anyone that I connect with like I do with you.’
My heart kicks in my chest, and I struggle to process what he’s just said. More sun penetrates the cloud and the world brightens suddenly. I should tell him I’ve never met anyone better than him either, but that would reveal more than I’m ready to yet. I flounder for a moment, then laugh gently, making a joke out of it: ‘Oh, come on, Aiden. You can’t possibly have met everyone in the world!’ I bump my shoulder against his. ‘There’ll be someone out there who’s much better than me. She’ll love camping and trekking up mountains and sleeping under the stars just as much as you, and she’ll cry and sob at airports and she won’t live in London with a dirty great damp patch in the corner of her sitting room.’
The Five-Year Plan: The utterly heart-warming and feel good rom com of 2020 Page 24
