‘“How drunk?”’
‘I recalled Milla’s warning that boys don’t get the message unless you spell it out. “So drunk you can take advantage of me?”’
‘You go girl,’ Angus says, as we approach a bench overlooking the river and decide to sit down. ‘That took guts.’
‘We got blindingly drunk on tequilas. I have never laughed so much as that night. I can remember him walking me home, it was miles across London. Probably the most exercise I’ve ever done in my life. But I don’t think either of us wanted the evening to end. We reached my front door at about three in the morning. I didn’t even ask if he wanted to come inside. We slept together that night. I know I should have been more…’ I shrug. ‘I know men love the chase,’ I say, reminded of what Angus said to me when we first met.
‘Chasing is overrated.’
‘The following morning, he made me a hot chocolate.’ I see him now, in our kitchen. ‘The secret is vanilla extract,’ Jamie had said, my arms draped around his waist. ‘We spent the whole day in bed, drinking hot chocolate, and, you know.’
‘Doing the crossword.’
I smile. ‘Exactly.’
‘It feels good, doesn’t it? Falling in love is like a drug.’
‘He wasn’t perfect, Angus,’ I go on. ‘I’m probably making out that he was, but he rarely tidied up after himself, socks had a habit of being left on the landing, and he was good at fixing and designing everything for other people, but he never made us our own wardrobe, which he’d promised me for years. He didn’t buy into the commercialism of Valentine’s Day so never apologised for the absence of flowers and chocolates.’
But who am I fooling? He was perfectly imperfect. He bought me flowers on days when I wasn’t expecting flowers.
‘He brought out a certain strength in me. He made me believe in myself,’ I confide.
‘I believe in you,’ Angus says quietly. ‘I don’t know if that means anything, coming from someone like me.’
I turn to him. ‘It means a lot.’
‘Holly, you’re the reason Lauren showed up this morning. You’re the reason I’m not drowning my sorrows in the pub right now. You’ve made me see how much I want and need to change. You are one of the best people I know. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, it’s not fucking fair. Life is not fair.’
Relief overwhelms me. It feels so good when people don’t trot out those tired old clichés like ‘time heals’. ‘I don’t want to get over him,’ I reflect. ‘Why would anyone want to get over someone they loved? But I want to feel my heart skip a few beats again. I want to feel passionate about something, or someone. I want to feel the way I did when Jamie and I set off to Bristol in his car. I was so excited. I want to feel life has some kind of meaning again. Does that make sense?’
‘Perfect sense.’
‘I still haven’t scattered Jamie’s ashes. They’re in a box, at the back of our wardrobe. It feels odd. He’s there, but he’s not.’ I rest my head on Angus’s shoulders. ‘I always believed we’d grow old together.’
He draws me close, wrapping his arms around me. ‘When the time feels right you will. You’re stronger than you realise, Holly.’
Minutes go by, the two of us comfortable in the silence, and I notice I’m liking his touch probably more than I should be. I’m forced to move when Angus reaches into his pocket for his mobile and headphones.
I sit up. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Trust me.’ He hands me one earplug, puts the other one in his left ear.
‘Live Your Life Be Free’ blasts into my ear. Angus stands up, gives me his hand, and we dance by the river, with the night lights of Hammersmith Bridge twinkling in the distance, not caring who walks by and sees us, or what anyone thinks when I laugh and cry, and soon I’m thirty-one, sitting in the passenger seat, alongside Jamie, the car roof down, the sunshine warm against my face, my hair blowing in the breeze, and I’m singing my heart out, feeling young and full of hope for my future, once again.
17
As I’m walking through Ravenscourt Park, towards the basketball courts, my phone pings. Thank God it’s Friday, Angus texts ourFitness BuddiesWhatsApp group. But I’ve made it through another whole week without smoking and drinking?Sorry if I sound smug. Everyone ready for our first session?
‘Yes,’ I text back, before seeing him in the distance, jogging up and down on the spot, sporting an old blue tracksuit and Nike T-shirt. Thankfully the sun has decided to join us this morning too.
‘You’re keen,’ I call out, approaching him, putting my mobile back in my bag.
He places a sweaty hand on my shoulder to steady himself, his breathing that of a heavy, unfit smoker. ‘Feel like I’ve already done my workout getting here on time.’
Our phones ping again. ‘I’m five minutes late,’ says Lauren. Never mind she’s late, it’s enough to know she’s coming. Yet weirdly I didn’t doubt it this morning. Angus, Lauren and I have been in touch all week on WhatsApp and nothing suggested to me that Lauren wasn’t going to turn up. While she hasn’t mentioned the morning when we confided our problems it does feel as if something has changed. It’s as if we’re all in this together now.
‘You look sporty,’ Angus says, gesturing to my long hair tied up in a ponytail, and I’m wearing a brand-new turquoise T-shirt with a pair of equally new leggings that I bought at least a year ago, with good intentions to join a Pilates class.
