‘Stay strong with your parents, Ellie,’ Ash urges fervently, cradling my head in the gap between his jaw and his collarbone.
I press my lips to his neck and feel the echo of his heart leaping against my mouth before looking up at his face, my resolve strengthening.
‘I will.’
He meets my eyes. ‘Just before Taran died, he said something to me that’s stuck.’ He swallows and I wait for him to go on. ‘He said that if he’d known how little time he had, he would have swum in more rivers and stayed up late more often to watch the stars. He wished he’d cherished the sound of the rain on the roof and the birdsong in the woods. But the thing is, Taran did appreciate all of those things. He just knew what he loved and regretted not doing more of it.’ His expression is grave as he stares down at me. ‘Seeing you in the gardens, hearing you talk about trees and your favourite flowers and your nan’s lupins … Gardening is your passion, Ellie.’
His eyes shine with emotion and I bury my face against him, fighting back tears as I hold on tightly, but he hasn’t finished.
‘Please don’t let your parents bully you,’ he implores in a low, urgent voice in my ear. ‘Follow your own path. Life is too short not to do what you love. You and I know that better than most.’
The whistle blows and we jolt, breaking apart. I brushaway my tears and pull him in for one last hard hug before wrenching myself away to step onto the train.
I want to do as he urges, but I just don’t know if I can.
He’s standing outside the open doorway when I turn around to face him.
‘I’ll see you in Madrid,’ he says seriously.
I nod quickly, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. My tears won’t let up.
Suddenly, leaving him feels like madness. What am I doing? I could stay with him, not go to the Algarve. I’ve already been to Porto and the other places he wants to visit, but it would be completely different with him at my side.
The doors whoosh shut on my racing thoughts and on impulse I slap my palm against the glass, panicked.
His eyes meet mine through the window, his expression worried, but beneath that is a steadiness that centres me.
I trust him. We’ll be together again in a week.
It’ll be okay, he mouths, his brows knitted together.
I nod quickly, wanting to believe him, as the train slowly pulls away, leaving behind the one person I want in my future.
CHAPTER NINE
Tears stream down my face as I sit and stare out the window, trying to soothe the ache in my chest by reflecting on my time with Ash. I can’t help but smile at some of the memories we created – even going to the laundrette felt special, sitting close with his arm hooked around my neck, my leg dangling over his, not caring about PDAs as we kissed and talked and laughed.
But now it’s six days later and Ash still hasn’t called. I managed to get the same number on my second day here after finding a phone shop that sold fully unlocked devices, but it hasn’t made a difference. I haven’t heard from him. I’m staying strong with my parents regardless, though the atmosphere at their villa has been thick with tension. When I arrived, my dad was okay – he was in full holiday swing – but Mum was infuriated by my insolence at being twenty-four hours late. Her icy reception was tame compared to how she took the news that I planned to continue interrailing. She had already told people that I’d start working at Knap three weeks earlier than expected, so the delay would cause her to look as though she’d lost control – her kryptonite.
Eventually I cracked under the weight of her declarationsof how selfish and ungrateful I was, and admitted that I’d met someone and wanted to continue travelling with him.
I regretted it as soon as I said it, and she didn’t disappoint, shaking her head at me pityingly as she said, ‘I should have known you were following a man. You’ve always been a sheep.’
It didn’t help that I had to admit I didn’t know Ash’s surname. How could we have left so much unsaid? We talked about everything that mattered and yet it never occurred to me to ask for his last name. We don’t know each other’s addresses or social media handles – I’m not even sure if he’sonsocial media; he didn’t have Instagram. If he’d come to the internet café with me instead of going to get picnic supplies, he would have seen the name of my family business on the website, but he didn’t.
I know there will be an explanation for why he couldn’t contact me. I remember the tightness of his arms around me as we hugged goodbye, and the intense look in his eyes as he told me he’d see me in Madrid. I just have to make it to him.
Now it’s one week since I left Ash and it’s imperative that I get to Madrid on time. But to my sheer and absolute horror, the bus from Albufeira breaks down on the way to Seville. My heart is thumping so hard as we’re told to disembark and wait at the side of the road.
What follows is the longest hour and a half of my life – I’m shaking with panic by the time I see our replacement bus coming along and the relief literally makes me feel so weak at the knees that I have to sit down. As long as the trains from Seville to Madrid are running on time, I should be okay.
But when I race into the hot, stuffy station and see the hordes of people waiting, I know something is wrong. It turns out a train broke down earlier and it’s taking time to clear the backlog.
When a train to Madrid eventually comes, it’s carnage with all the people trying to board. I push my way onto a carriage with a ferocity that only my determination to see Ash could conjure. For two and a half hours, I stand in the aisle of the crowded train car, rucksack between my legs, bouncing on my feet and muttering under my breath. With every glance at my watch, my heart rate ratchets up and my sense of helplessness and loss of control increases.
Please wait, Ash. I’m coming.
What if he thinks that I couldn’t stand up to my parents and didn’t keep my promise to him? What if he gives up on me?
