‘We were so bloody young. It wasn’t all bad though,’ he says.
‘Do you remember the first time we saw her?’ My eyes soften with my smile at the memory.
‘I’ll never forget those little arms twirling and when the nurse turned the volume up on the heartbeat.’
A shiver passes though me, but for the first time it has no menace. It’s simply the thrill of remembering something so special without the shadow of guilt.
I put the picture back in the box and pick up the white folded Babygro. I open it out. It’s exactly as I remember. Pristine white with sunshine-yellow writing –Daddy’s little star– and a tiny perfect daisy. I bury my face in it and breathe in. If she’d got the chance to wear it, it should smell of baby powder, but it’s never been worn. I sob into the fabric and my whole body shakes. I cry for Jackson, for me and for her, and the life we all should have had.
Jackson moves the box and shuffles along the bench. His arms enclose me and he pulls me tight. I mould myself to him. I don’t want an inch of space between us. His body is warm and I push myself even deeper into his chest, my nose rubbing against his T-shirt. I want to dissolve into his heat, his touch. Transfer his smell to me so he’ll always be a part of me.
His fingertips trace my friendship bracelet and then move to the yellow daisy on the Babygro sitting on my knee. ‘Yellow and white?’
I meet his eyes and give a tiny smile. ‘Every time it gets grubby, I make a new one.’
He shakes his head and I’m not sure why. The he sits a little away from me and takes off the gold ring on his little finger and hands it to me. I frown, holding the ring in the palm of my hand.
He nods towards it. ‘Look at it.’
I pick it up and twist it around and my heartbeat gallops in my chest. There’s a tiny picture of a daisy etched into the ring.
‘We were never not in tune with each other, were we?’ I say softly. ‘Even when we were miles apart.’ I look up. His eyes are magnetic and I couldn’t look away from him if I tried. ‘Are you sure about this? Us?’ I need to know he’s sure. I can’t get hurt again.
‘Ellie …’ He takes my hand, his thumb circling my skin, and it sends sparks spiralling through me. ‘We both went through hell together. We both got things wrong and things right. But I’ve never wanted anyone else the way I want you. No one else has ever matched up to you, even the memory of you.’
I take a breath and it fills my torso, cracking the vice grip around my heart as if it’s freeing it.
‘I want to be with you because of who you are,’ he continues. ‘Who we are when we’re together.’
I reach up to touch his face, his stubble pressing into my palm. I can’t stay apart from him for a second longer. I move towards him and he meets me halfway. I tilt my head to his and kiss him. His hand slides through my hair to the back of my head as he kisses me back. Our hands don’t wander. I pull him flush to me and his hands hold me steady. Neither of us want this to go any further than this kiss. It’s a kiss that says everything we need it to say without either of us spelling it out. My lips are bruised and tingling when we break apart.
‘I have loved you for every yesterday. I love you here and now today. And I’ll love you for all our tomorrows. And that will never change.’Jackson runs his index finger down my forehead, over my nose and down my chin. It’s a gesture which sends my heart spinning. It was our thing and I never thought I’d feel it again.
‘It’s always been you too,’ I whisper. ‘Always and forever.’
His arms encircle me and pull me close and I can feel everypart of him. I close my eyes. And for the first time in years, I feel at peace with myself and my past and buoyant about our future. And I am happy.
Epilogue
It’s been three weeks and five days since I last saw Jackson in person and six weeks since Sophie died.
She had a happy, or maybe peaceful is a better word, four months in the Lilypad before she passed away on a morning when the sun flooded into her room, bathing it in a soft golden light. Jackson had stayed around the whole time and he and Milo spent as much time as they could with their mum.
After the funeral he’d gone back home to Australia and his business. We’ve spoken or FaceTimed every day, but it’s not the same.
Today is the day I get to see him again and my tummy is swirling with excitement.
‘Don’t scratch my car.’ Reeni’s jokey words are at the forefront of my mind as I ease her Volvo into the first parking space I can find in the Heathrow Airport short-term parking car park.
Arrivals has a quiet hum of anticipation about it. A variety ofpeople are standing around waiting. Two young children with their parents, clinging to floating metallic helium balloons withwelcomewritten on them, drivers dressed smartly holding name cards, single people mostly staring at their phones and a young guy in denim shorts and a black ripped T-shirt holding a single red rose.
I’d thought about bringing flowers or a balloon, but the excitement at seeing Jackson again is tinged with a hint of sombreness. In two days, we’re getting together to scatter Sophie’s ashes on the beach. He’s told me he’s OK about it, but until I hear him say it for real, I don’t think I’ll fully believe him.
I glance towards the arrivals TV and butterflies begin to flutter in my tummy. According to the screen, his plane landed twenty-four minutes ago. Every time the doors in front of me open with a hiss, my chest tightens a notch. More and more people are coming through now instead of the odd individual. Groups and couples and then Jackson.
My heart skips a couple of beats. I can see him searching the sea of people for me. He’s in straight-legged indigo jeans and a fitted navy T-shirt and the block of colour accentuates how tall and lean he is. As he comes closer, I can see the yellow-and-white friendship bracelet I made him still encircling his wrist. His eyes find mine and he stops. My surroundings fade as his face breaks into a wide smile and he jogs the last few strides to meet me, rolling his suitcase and carry-on with him.
He picks me up, lifting me clean off my feet, and hugs me close, burying his face in the crook of my neck. His breath tickles and sends my butterflies scattering.
