by Emma Davies
Nancy looks at me, a soft smile on her face. ‘You have to be yourself, Alys,’ she says. ‘It’s the place where everything starts, and if you’re lucky where everything ends too.’ And then she turns back toward Ruth. ‘Live your life, Alys. Be extraordinary.’
25
Hugh never did ask me about Nancy’s talk. When he’d got home from work that evening, I’d politely enquired if he’d had a good day, and he’d answered my question briefly and that was all. Throughout the whole of that evening and the next day, he’d steadfastly refused to talk about anything which made mention of Nancy’s name, or Sam’s for that matter. It was as if they didn’t even exist. He’d spoken briefly to Esme before she’d left for work on Sunday but the rest of the time he’d appeared just as he always had, albeit slightly quieter than usual. The only indication that anything untoward had happened was his slight hesitation as he replied to any question asked of him. It was the only thing that allowed me to see he was thinking about recent events at all.
And now I’m only twenty minutes’ drive away from my first day at the conservation centre and I don’t know how I feel. My phone flashed with a message from Tash this morning. You go, girl, is all it said, and it made me smile; it’s exactly the sort of thing Tash would say. But she’s right, I have to make the very best of this opportunity. And, in fact, despite my nerves and trepidation over what the day will hold, I’m actually relieved that I will have something else to occupy my thoughts for a while. Something that isn’t Sam.
I can’t get over the enormous sense of relief I felt on finding out that Ruth was, in fact, Nancy’s partner and not Sam’s, and Nancy’s final words to me had reverberated around my head the entire weekend. Live your life, she had said… and of course what she’d meant was that I should live mine and no one else’s. And it made me wonder just whose I had been living all these years. It’s become the question I’m finding the hardest to answer – if I’d have known then what I know now, how would my life have turned out? Would it even be any different?
Because the simple fact of the matter is that Sam did send me away, for whatever reason, and however much I loved him, he made that decision, taking away my choice with it. And the person I became as a result, the one I’ve been desperate to change these past few weeks… I’ve been blaming Hugh for that, but how much of it was actually down to Sam?
I glance in the rear-view mirror as I drive, catching sight of myself as I do so. It’s time to own up, Alys. Time to admit that the only person who has ever been responsible for the person I became is me. And if I want to live my life, and be extraordinary in the only way I know how, then the future is down to me.
It’s a thought that occupies me for the rest of my journey, into the car park, out of my car and right up to the studio. It’s only when I raise my hand to knock on the door that I think about what I’m actually here to do and feel a moment’s terror at what lies ahead. But it’s fleeting; Becky’s smiling face seconds later convinces me everything is going to be okay, that and the warm and welcoming smell I remember from so long ago. It’s wool and fabric, a slight mustiness of age, but it’s a reminder of how I used to feel walking into the studio at uni: that I was home, and safe.
I’m surprised when, what seems like only a short while later, Lucy tentatively suggests that I might like to have a break and go for some lunch. I’ve been sitting with her for the past hour, quietly watching her infinite patience and skill as she continues working on the carpet I saw weeks ago at their open day. Both she and Becky have talked me through the aims and scope of their latest restoration project as well as showing me another much smaller project they are working on in tandem. It’s a wall hanging that will require careful cleaning and a few patch repairs, and it’s on this that I will begin to practise the procedures that once came so naturally to me.
The morning has flown but I’m tired as I walk back out to my car. I’m not used to concentrating for such a long period of time and it’s been years since I’ve had to take in so much new information. Even being a volunteer requires paperwork, it seems, and a full introduction to health and safety policies and procedures but, most importantly, we’ve discussed my hours and I’m now committed to three full days a week here. Becky’s desperation for some help was immediately evident and any thoughts I had of easing myself in gently soon flew out of the window.
The summer is making a valiant effort to linger for a few last weeks and, collecting my handbag from the boot of my car, I fully intend to sit in the sun to make the most of it as I eat my lunch. I can now get a small discount from the National Trust tea room next door and, although I won’t usually be able to afford to eat here, on this, the first day of a new adventure, a treat seems perfectly reasonable.
The car door slamming behind me doesn’t even register until I become aware of steps approaching in my direction, crunching on the gravel underfoot. And I can see his reflection in the side window as I relock the car. I must admit he’s the last person I expected to see.
‘Hugh,’ I say, turning round quickly. ‘Is everything all right?’ I glance at my watch – Esme would have already gone to work by this time and it’s Hugh’s day off.
He frowns gently. ‘I didn’t know I couldn’t get into this place,’ he says. ‘I’ve been sitting in the car for the last hour.’
I turn back to look at the door to the studio. ‘No, it’s not open to the public… Sorry.’ There’s a sign that states this very clearly, advising visitors to telephone the head conservationist for an appointment. ‘But I didn’t know you were coming.’
Hugh still looks a little put out but he brightens his expression as I search his face for any sign as to why he’s here. ‘No, I… Perhaps I should have let you know.’ He pauses. ‘Although I didn’t actually know I was coming… not this morning anyway. I just thought I ought to come and see where you were, and how you were doing, that kind of thing. Not because I’m keeping tabs on you,’ he adds quickly. ‘Just because I thought I should take an interest in what you’re doing.’ He looks around him. ‘Alys, is there somewhere we can go to talk? Just for a few minutes.’
It’s strange enough seeing Hugh here, let alone hearing that he wants to talk to me, but I nod, motioning forward. ‘I was just about to go to the tea room for some lunch,’ I reply. ‘It’s next door.’
He nods, all at once looking a little anxious. His lips are moving slightly as if he’s rehearsing what he wants to say. ‘Have you had a good morning?’ he asks.
‘I have. I was terrified I wouldn’t know anything, but it’s surprising how much I do remember.’
Hugh regards me for a moment. ‘You should have done this years ago, shouldn’t you?’
Now we’ve moved out of the shady car park and into the sun I can see his forehead is glistening with tiny beads of sweat. ‘Possibly,’ I say cautiously. ‘But everything has its time, Hugh; maybe this is simply the right time for me.’
He looks down at his hands. ‘And have we had ours, Alys?’
I stop dead, feet crunching on the small stones beneath them. I never thought I’d hear Hugh say something like this. It’s always been me who started difficult conversations.
‘Let’s go and get a coffee,’ I say evenly. ‘We can talk properly then.’ It’s not a question I’m prepared to answer standing here. But this is so unlike Hugh I’m wondering if something has happened to make him behave this way.
I lead him along the path to the small stone and flint building that houses the tea room. It’s busy – there’s a steady hum of conversation inside and the clinking of cutlery and plates – but most folks seem to be already seated and the queue is small. In no time we’re on our way back outside with a cup of coffee each and a large Chelsea bun for me. I’m feeling the need for a sweet treat more than ever.
Minutes later we’re sitting on a bench tucked in the corner of the tea-room garden. The sun is warm, bouncing off the brick behind us, and bees buzz the planters of flowers surrounding the building. It’s a lovely setting
but more importantly it’s quiet, and there’s less chance we’ll be overheard. It would be lovely to just sit and soak up the atmosphere but Hugh’s question is looming larger by the minute and I’m desperately trying to think of a way to answer him when he expels a long sigh.
‘I did a terrible thing,’ he says. ‘I ruined a life… two lives, three possibly…’ He hangs his head and, despite the possible truth in what he’s saying, my heart goes out to him. Facing the truth is never easy.
I let his words sit between us as I peel off a layer of the Chelsea bun from the outside and offer it to him. He shakes his head, so I take a bite, chewing as I think how to reply.
‘You said some terrible things,’ I say. ‘But whether you ruined a life… that’s a different matter. No one can prove that you directly caused Sam’s accident, although I suspect that driving home in the frame of mind he must have been in… well, I don’t need to spell it out.’ I look across at him, holding his gaze. ‘Maybe it’s enough that you think you did.’
His jaw clenches. ‘It is… Alys, believe me, it is.’
I soften my expression. ‘But, you also did a very good thing. You took me in when I had nothing. And when we found out I was pregnant, you accepted it. You loved Esme as if she were your own, and you’ve raised her and looked after her ever since. And I’m not stupid, Hugh. You were young, madly jealous of my relationship with Sam, and love built on that basis isn’t necessarily real love, but I think you’ve proved over the years that it was, especially with Esme. I know how much you love her, Hugh, just as I know you love me.’
He nods fervently, but he’s not going to ask me whether I love him.
‘Do you love Sam?’ he asks instead.
‘I love the Sam I knew back then,’ I reply, licking my lips to get the sugar from them. ‘Nothing will ever take that away. But I don’t know him now. Time changes us all, and if I got to know him better, who knows… I might not even like him.’
I pause, trying to work out how to say what I need to. Things have gone too far to be anything less than honest. No more secrets. No more lies. ‘But I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was in love with the idea of us, Hugh. And I’m sorry, but what that means for you and me… I don’t know.’
I sigh. ‘I never imagined that Sam would ever come back into my life. I dreamed about it, in that over-romanticised way where everything is perfect, but I do also know that real life isn’t like that. The trouble is that now he is back in my life I can’t just ignore that fact either. And what I’m having most trouble deciding is whether what I’m feeling is real or just my fantasy. Does that make sense?’
Hugh nods sadly. ‘Thank you,’ he says. ‘That was honest at least.’
‘I don’t think we can afford to be anything less, do you?’ But it’s a rhetorical question. Hugh has finally worked this out. ‘What made you come here today?’ I ask. ‘Now, I mean, when you could have waited until I got home.’
He pulls a face, sheepish and apologetic at the same time. ‘It was something Esme said,’ he admits. ‘And I thought that if I didn’t come and say something now, I probably never would. By the time you get home this evening I’d have talked myself out of it, I’m very good at that… as well you know.’
He holds out his hand and I automatically pass him a piece of my bun. It’s such a familiar routine that the poignancy of it hits me head on. The weight of all that’s at stake here.
He chews thoughtfully. ‘But Esme was right,’ he continues after a moment. ‘We had a bit of a… chat, before she went to work. And she told me how she would always think of me as her dad, no matter what happens between her and Sam.’ He nods several times in succession. ‘Which, yes, is exactly what you said, I know, but hearing it from her, it made a difference. She told me I needed to trust her, to have faith in her, just like you did. And what happened is that I stopped seeing her as my little girl and instead as the person she’s grown up to be: strong, independent and incredibly wise.’
He looks across at me and I smile back. I can picture the exact expression on Esme’s face as she imparted her wisdom.
‘She made me realise something, Alys. Something I’m rather ashamed to admit. Because you see I don’t think I’ve ever had faith in anyone, not realIy. I denied it when you accused me of it, but you were absolutely right. I’ve never even believed in myself and I think that’s where it all began to go wrong. Sam was a much better person than I could ever be. At least that’s what I thought. And whether that was true or not, I never bothered to find out, least of all try to improve myself. So instead I got the stupid idea in my head that if I couldn’t be as good as Sam, then perhaps if he weren’t there at all, things would finally begin to go my way. So I made it happen. And I saved you, and I saved Esme. Me, not Sam, but me, and all that gratitude felt good. I’d finally done something I could be proud of. I mean, I must have, you kept telling me that.’ He lowers his head.
‘But I made sure that you were eternally grateful, Alys. By having no control over your life, everything you had was because I had given it to you, what else were you to be, but grateful? And I’m ashamed to say I liked it that way. That’s why I behaved the way I did when you suddenly started to make your own decisions, be your own person again. It was like you’d cut off my air supply, that constant flow of gratitude I’d had for so many years dwindling away when you realised that you no longer needed to… what was it you said? To pass everything through my filter. Pathetic, isn’t it?’
‘Hugh, it wasn’t as bad as that, I…’ But I trail off, because I know that he’s right. In essence, that’s exactly what had happened.
He picks up his coffee cup from where he’d placed it on the ground and takes a long drink, before lowering it to his lap, still looking straight ahead. ‘What’s going to happen to us?’ he asks.
‘I don’t know,’ I answer truthfully. ‘There are so many things we need to deal with. I need to learn to trust you again, to forgive you. And I need to make sure that Esme is okay. Her relationship with Sam will develop, I’m sure of that, and it’s going to mean that he may be around a bit more, and you’re going to have to deal with that and support her just as much as I am. So I don’t know how this ends, Hugh, I really don’t. But I’m learning who I am now, and what I need to be happy. And now you need to do the same, wherever it might lead you. There’s no magic solution and no crystal ball either, but we can try, all of us, that’s all we can do. Facing the truth is never easy. But living a lie is worse.’
Hugh’s eyes are on me as I say my final words and I can see that he accepts what I’m saying. It isn’t just me that’s been living a lie.
‘I should really get back,’ I say, draining the rest of my coffee.
‘Yes, yes, of course,’ says Hugh, getting to his feet. He holds out his hand for my mug. ‘Can’t have you being late, not on your first day.’
I take a step forward. ‘Thank you for coming though, Hugh…’ I trail off, not really knowing what else to say. This awkwardness with one another, not knowing quite how to behave, it isn’t something we’ve had to navigate before. ‘And we can talk some more if you like, when I get home.’
Hugh nods and I can see from his face that, although it’s probably the last things he wants to do, he will. This time he will.
‘I wondered whether… well, seeing as you will have been out all day, and you’ll be tired, whether you might like to go out somewhere – for dinner, I mean? Not anywhere extravagant, but just, you know…’
I smile. ‘Yes… I think I’d like that.’ I motion to the cups in his hands. ‘Would you mind taking those back inside?’ I ask, quickly glancing at my watch. I don’t know what to do, what to say, how to part. Will he expect me to kiss him?
I point towards the studio, taking a couple of steps. ‘I should…’
‘Yes,’ he says, but he makes no move towards me, simply stands, smiling, the mugs held in front of him.
A slight breeze ruffles my hair as I turn away, blowing a curly tendril over my shou
lder. The sunlight makes it dance, threads of the brightest copper.
I turn back.
‘Bye, Hugh.’
26
Five months later
I’m beginning to think that Nancy must have got it wrong, but she was adamant that all I had to do was wait. Except that, even with my thickest coat on, it’s perishing. It’s January now and a vicious wind is blowing across the exposed harbour wall. I’ve been here half an hour already and my spirits have plummeted as low as the temperature. I glance at my watch again, not wanting to give up but realising with every passing moment how foolish this is. I should never have come.
I wind my scarf even tighter around my neck and stare back out to sea. It might be beautiful in the summer, bright blue with scudding clouds chased by the breeze, the horizon hazy in the distance, but today it’s grey and forbidding. I get to my feet, the backs of my legs frozen from the hard stone ledge on which I’ve been sitting, and walk slowly to the end of the harbour wall. The very tip of it is surrounded by a railing, the other side of which is a sharp drop to the sea below, and only metres away the other arm of the wall curves its way around the bay, keeping safe all that lies within it. A huge pile of wooden posts has been stacked here, their ends capped with metal turned orange with rust. I’ve gone only a few steps beyond them, however, when I see what I’ve missed all along. Hidden from view is a lone figure sitting on the end of the lowermost planks. My nerves, which have kept a low-level fluttering in my stomach all morning, suddenly roar into life and your name barely makes it out of my throat.
‘Sam?’
You’re writing something, thick fingerless gloves hampering the progress of your pen across the page of the notebook you’re balancing on your lap. You look up and it’s just like I’ve pictured for all these weeks; a slow smile lighting up your face, turning your eyes to liquid gold.
