A schism opens up in my heart as he looks at me and nods in silent agreement.
I have a devastating feeling that we’ve just marked the end of us.
‘We can’t keep going on like this,’ I say wretchedly. ‘Not indefinitely.’
‘What else can we do?’ he asks.
‘We should have stuck to our rules,’ I say with sudden bitterness. ‘At least then we’d stand a chance of getting on with our lives, of not feeling so torn.’
‘Is that what you want to go back to?’ he asks reluctantly.
Iknowit’s what we should do. I knew it from the very beginning. But pain sears my chest at the thought of severing all contact.
‘Maybe we just need to cut down on the amount we speak. Make it once a month or so, just to touch base, not be so caught up in each other’s lives.’
He thinks about this for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin line, and then he gives me a single curt nod.
The week after he leaves, I find my solace in clay.
THIS SUMMER
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The warmth of Tom’s gaze mingles with the heat that’s already shimmering over my skin as I speak to one of the foundry team about a joint that needs further fettling. My nose is prickling with the smell of ammonia and my throat is catching on the burning scent of the molten metal in the furnace, but it’s not unpleasant. I love being in here. This is where it all comes together, where the vision of my hard work is realised.
We move on to talk about patination and the shade of green I’m hoping to achieve, and when we’re done, I smile at Tom and beckon him over. He’s been hanging back, not wanting to get in the way, but as the foundry worker leaves us to it, Tom joins me, his golden-brown eyes glimmering.
He shakes his head, awed. ‘Your first public art. I can’t imagine how you feel right now. You must be so proud. It’s incredible, Liv. I’m genuinely blown away.’
His reaction is so lovely that my eyes unexpectedly sting with tears.
‘Aw,’ he says softly, tenderly squeezing my shoulder as I brush away the moisture that’s collected in my lower lashes.
‘You should have seen me a couple of years ago when I sculpted my parents,’ I say with a small laugh. ‘I wascompletely overwhelmed when they were broken out of their moulds. The foundry workers gave me a wide berth.’ My smile wavers. ‘I’d give anything for them to be here now, sharing this achievement.’
The tears that have been brimming in my eyes spill over and Tom’s expression is full of empathy as he reaches out and tugs me into his arms.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he murmurs against the top of my head.
My chest is flush to his and my nerves are jangling at our close physical contact, but somehow it feels natural to be in this moment with him.
‘It’s okay,’ I choke out as he rubs my back. ‘Some days I go hours without thinking about them and other times it’s as though I lost them only yesterday.’ I withdraw much sooner than I’d like to because I desperately need a tissue. ‘My mum and dad weren’t at all creative, but I know they’d be proud,’ I say as I find one in my bag and sort myself out. ‘And also, I think they’d be thankful that I have art in my life. Does that sound strange? Sculpting has helped me to process my grief since I lost them. It’s been good therapy.’
‘It doesn’t sound strange at all.’ He lets out a small sigh. ‘I wish my grandad had been around to see me fly,’ he confides. ‘I know he would have got such a kick out of it.’
‘Your parents must be proud, though?’
His smile warms. ‘My mum used to ask me for details of our hairier rescue attempts and then she’d completely freak out about how dangerous it all sounded. That’s her, though. She’ll claim she hates horror movies and will then sit through two hours of one, peeking through her fingers and jumping out of her skin.’
‘What about your dad?’ I ask with a smile at the mental picture he’s given me.
‘I guess you could say that he’s quietly proud. He’s not very vocal, but I’ve overheard him telling friends about my job.’ His smile fades and he averts his gaze.
‘I’m sorry they didn’t encourage your artistic talent,’ I find myself saying.
He shakes his head and throws me a wry smile. ‘I’m a far cry from being anything like you.’
I frown at him. ‘That’s not true.’
