‘That sounds perfect.’
‘Anyway,’ she lets out a breath. ‘It’s nice having that to look forward to, what with everything going on with Harper and the thought of seeing my in-laws again. And I’m hoping you have a book for me? I need something to read to take my mind off things.’
‘Absolutely, let me just get it for you.’
He hands her this month’s small parcel and Tilly takes it gratefully, unable to stop herself from thinking as she does:just four more books.
‘I can’t believe it,’ Tilly blurts out when she opens August’s book in the quiet of her living room. ‘What are the chances?’
Sitting in her lap is a hardback book with a cover showing a simple black-and-white line drawing of a woman walking a dog in front of a city skyline.Letter from New York, Helene Hanff, reads the title.
Dear Tilly,
Do you remember our first trip to New York when we stopped off on the way to meet my parents for the first time? It was your first time in the city and I had so much fun showing you the sights. Cycling together in Central Park, walking the High Line, getting lost in The Met. And I thought I was never going to get you out of the Strand bookstore. When I told you the store housed 18 miles of books I didn’t think you’d take it upon yourself to walk up and down every single one. But what should I have expected really?
This book reminded me of that trip. It was on that trip that I decided I would one day ask you to marry me. I can remember the exact moment, actually. We were at the top of the Empire State Building because you insisted on going, even though I told you the Rockefeller Center was better. You said you couldn’t come to New York andnotgo up the Empire State Building. When we got to the top, your eyes got so wide at the view and it made me realize that itwaspretty cool, to be at the top of one of the most famous buildings in the world with you. You made me see the place in a new way. Your excitement made me excited, about that moment and about our future.
I wonder if you will ever go back to New York now. If you do find yourself there, I know my parents would loveto see you. I know it might not have always felt that way at times but they are your family too. And they love you.
If you do see them, can you do something for me? Will you give my mom a hug from me? And my dad too.
Thank you for agreeing to be my wife. Thank you for making our life together an adventure.
I love you.
Joe x
Tilly hugs the book and the letter to her chest, pain, love and regret swirling like a storm inside her. Her eyes flick to the blue urn on the bookshelf, lingering there.
35
The house is exactly how Tilly remembers it. The sage, wood-clad building faces the lake, a sprawling garden tumbling down to the pontoon where the ancient family boat is moored. The land is surrounded by trees, the vivid green reflected in the water that buzzes with mayflies in the warm afternoon sun.
Ellen and Hank are waiting for her on the front step when Tilly arrives, having refused the offer of being collected at the airport. An airport reunion had felt like too much pressure, especially as she stumbled off the plane bleary-eyed, having found the journey harder than she’d imagined. When she viewed Connecticut through the plane window she broke down, the stranger sat next to her offering her tissues and a slug of gin.
She has a moment to gather herself as she pays the driver and takes hold of her suitcase. Joe’s parents look older, but it doesn’t surprise Tilly. She feels older too. Ellen is dressed in denim Bermuda shorts and a white cheesecloth top, her grey hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, her lips set in a tight smile. Hank shuffles beside her in his usual cargo shorts and T-shirt, his hair flecked with more white than Tilly remembered.
As she approaches the porch Tilly catches Ellen’s eyes flashing instinctively back to the taxi as if searching for someone. But the car is already pulling away, and then Hank strides out to meet her, reaching his arms out for her case.
‘Let me take that. Good to see you, honey.’ His rough, bearded face brushes against hers as he kisses her cheek.
Ellen is still poised on the step, the big house silhouetted behind her. Before she can move or say anything, three golden retrievers come tearing out from behind her, circling around Tilly, tails wagging and tongues lolling in a frenzy of excitement. She drops her backpack and bends to stroke them, soaking up the warmth of their greeting and letting herself get entirely covered in dog hair and dribble.
It breaks something that was holding the air taut and Ellen steps forward, calling the dogs away and wrapping her arms around Tilly in a brief hug. Then she steps away, looking at her with an expression that is hard to read.
‘Welcome back. It’s good to have you here.’
‘Thank you, it’s good to be here,’ Tilly replies, aware that they are probably both lying.
‘I’ve put you in the yellow room at the front of the house,’ Ellen says.
Together Ellen and Tilly carry her bags up the stairs, Hank having disappeared out to the dock. As they pass Joe’s childhood bedroom Tilly gets a glimpse through the door, left ajar. The mattress is dented and the sheets are slightly crumpled as though someone has recently curled up there.
Ellen leads them to the bright room that looks over the lake, the bed neatly made and fresh towels on the pillow. The room Tilly and Joe always stayed in is on the other side of the house, facing the woods.
‘Thank you, it’s lovely.’
Ellen smooths the bedcovers, then steps over to the window where Hank is visible down on the jetty, a fishing line trailing in the water.
