41
I am on the train and on my way to take Aunt Polly to chemo.
My head is pressed against the window, and I’m thinking about the dreamy kiss I shared with Oliver at the door before I left. It was punctuated with brief pauses that heightened my anticipation. When I finally pulled away, he grinned and said, ‘I miss your lips already.’
Even though we have kept the pillow wall in place, our kisses in the evening and in the morning are becoming more passionate. At some point, I am going to have to think about taking things to the next level.
Yesterday’s embarrassing moment in the bookshop rushes back and makes me shudder. While Miranda was discussing outfits for a first date with her online stylist in the back room, I managed to sneak a book behind the till. It was titledLosing Your Virginity – An Adult’s Guide. This is one of the many advantages of working in a bookshop. Information on any topic is never far away. I was three chapters deep when a customer asked me to help him find a book on medieval myths. After locating the book, I gulped and returned to the counter. Miranda was casually flicking through the book. My cheeks have never felt so hot.
‘Nelly, if there’s anything personal you want to talk to me about, I am here for you,’ she whispered as I approached. I wanted the ground to open and for me to fall through the hole. ‘It’s for a customer,’ I said, thinking on my feet. She gave me an odd look which I ignored.
Apart from that little incident, the last few days with Oliver have been idyllic. He has cooked us incredible meals, cuddled me in every part of the flat, kissed me goodnight, and made me belly laugh with his funny tales over the pillow wall.
‘Excuse me, is anyone sitting here?’ I am yanked out of my thoughts by a young woman who wants to sit on the seat next to me. The train jolts, and as I am thrown forward, our hands brush. Once the light fades, I see her crying as she watches a young man pack a suitcase. On the coffee table in front of her is a magazine cover featuring her man. The headline reads:The Export – How a new British actor became Hollywood’s most wanted.
He is telling her not to cry and that she will one day meet someone new.
The train carriage becomes muffled, and an uncomfortable feeling passes over me. Oliver is already a bestselling author and one day he could achieve bigger fame and fortune. How would I cope if, like the man in the vision, Oliver decides I am not part of his glitzy world and that he wants to move to Hollywood alone?
I get off the train feeling anxious. Since an early-morning swim is now part of my routine, I leave my clothes behind a rock and enter the water. Today, the sea is a brilliant royal-blue colour and shimmers in the early morning light. The waves are small and playful. Once fully submerged, I let the water hold me, and I think about the vision I saw on the train. I can’t control Oliver’s career, and if that happened, it would be sad, but as Eva said, it would be survivable. There would be a period of eating cereal, binge-watching sad films, and… this – swimming. I would somehow get through it. There would be tears, but I would survive. A little wave splashes over me which makes me smile. The water will always be here for me. I do need to think about what I will do in the winter when I can’t swim in the sea. I make a mental note to check the times of the local swimming pool near my flat. Once again, the sea carries away my worries, and I start to feel lighter again.
I smile up at the blue sky. ‘Mum, if you’re watching me from heaven,’ I whisper, ‘I have finally returned to swimming.’
* * *
It’s the middle of the afternoon. Aunt Polly went for a lie-down when we got home from chemo. It went smoothly, but there was a new lady having chemo, and I thought she looked like Hilary, with a sleek, bobbed brown hairstyle and enviable cheekbones. I don’t think I was the only one who recognised the similarity, as my aunt kept glancing at her. Mentioning Hilary’s name only makes my aunt agitated so I kept my thoughts to myself.
I have Mum’s notebook on my lap. I am about to dive in, but the corner of Aunt Polly’s photo album is jutting out underneath the coffee table and has caught my eye. I put the notebook to one side and pick up the album. The lady from the hospital is still on my mind and so too is the way my aunt kept looking at her. I recall Oliver encouraging me to find out what happened between my aunt and her best friend Hilary. I turn to the back page. The sight of Aunt Polly and Hilary both getting ready for their epic road trip makes me smile. I feel behind the photo. The envelope is there. Taking a deep breath, I slide it out.
My heart is pounding. I shouldn’t be snooping into Aunt Polly’s private life, but as Oliver said they could have fallen out over something silly, and that would be a waste of a friendship. He is right about Aunt Polly being special to me. I will do what I can to help her through this difficult time. And there is only one person in the world who can make everything better – Hilary.
This envelope could hold the answer to the mystery of what happened between them.
With a trembling hand, I open the envelope and pull out a letter written on posh cream paper. I instantly recognise Hilary’s swirly handwriting.
It has a postmark from ten years ago. That was when they fell out.
I take a deep breath and read…
Dear Polly,
Please don’t throw this away.
I never wanted us to fall out like this.
You won’t answer my calls, reply to my emails or write back.
This is all my fault, and I’m sorry for the hurt I’ve caused you.
Our road trip was special, and I will never forget what happened between us. I don’t regret what happened. I don’t regret kissing you, and I don’t regret the nights we spent together in bed. Those memories will stay with me forever.
If things had been different, I would have leapt at the chance to start a life with you. But I have my girls to think about, and I have Mike, who wants a second chance. You know how my girls have dreamed of Mike and I getting back together. I want to make them happy.
You will always have a special place in my heart.
I love you, Polly. Always have and always will.
Hilary x
