Текст книги "Calling Me Away"

Автор книги: Louise Bay

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“By loving me. By giving me time and being there to catch me despite me pushing him away and losing faith in us both.”

So that was it. I had to give her space, show her I’d had time and opportunity to think of every conceivable version of my life, and that I still wanted her at the center of it.

I’d prove to her that she was my choice.

My only choice.

I went to bed early, telling Jake and Haven I was tired. I wasn’t. I had plans to make. A strategy to formulate. I glanced around, my overnight bag slung in the corner, clothes spilling out the top. A bunch of notebooks from work that I’d brought home on Friday were lying on the dressing table. This couldn’t be my life. I pulled out my laptop and logged on. I grabbed a notebook.

Step one: Find a place to live.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized I was actually eager to move out of Haven’s home. Perhaps it was partly because it was what Ashleigh needed from me, but all of a sudden, I relished the idea of moving on. As much as I loved my sister and Jake, I didn’t want to be an appendage to their life. I wanted one of my own.

I fired up a real estate website and started to look at flats to rent near to where Emma and I had lived. As I clicked and scrolled, I realized the pictures were all from a place I’d left behind. There was no reason for me to live in that area. I was starting fresh with only myself to worry about. What did I actually want? Where did I want to be? I had no boundaries, no one to consider while making my choice. I could put a pin in the map and decide that would be the place. The possibilities were endless and in a sense daunting, but a decision had to be made if I was going to move on.

I did what I did best and buried myself in the details, working my way through different sites, firing off emails, setting up viewings for the coming days. I’d check a few places out and decide what felt right.

By the time I was finished, it was close to two, but the adrenaline pumping through my veins meant that sleep was a ways away. Was Ashleigh sleeping? Was she worried about if I would be able to do what she’d asked? I closed my eyes and imagined the contours of her body covered by her cream-colored sheets, her hair spread across her pillow, her lips parted. Over the years, we’d spent a lot of time with each other, but it was only in the past few days that I knew what she looked like while sleeping. Bold, funny, energetic Ash slept unguarded. She was soft, thoughtful—a Tennyson-imagined heroine. I logged on to my email.

Monday, September 12

Dear Ashleigh,

You’ve been in my every thought today. I miss you, but I want you to know that I’m beginning to understand what you’ve asked me to do and why.

I’m going to look at flats tomorrow. I wish you were coming with me. You could help me choose. But you’ll see it soon enough, one way or another.

Believe in me. Believe in you.

All my love, Luke.

My mouse hovered over the send button. Was it too pushy? Did she even want to hear from me right now?

Eventually, I pressed delete and logged off.

Less than twelve hours after finding it on the internet, I stood in the middle of a furnished flat in the center of the city. It was the second one I’d seen. I’d skipped out of work early in order to progress step one on my plan.

Floor-to-ceiling windows spilled natural light into the flat—very different from the place I’d shared with Emma.

“You can see the river from outside,” the agent said.

I slid open the balcony door and stepped out, peering over the wall. It was quiet and high and away from the hustle and bustle of London, despite being right in the middle of things. It was exactly the opposite of the flat I’d shared with Emma and the one I’d seen before this one. Our place had been a Victorian conversion in West London—and a forty-five minute journey into work. This was a ten-minute walk to the office. Emma had loved the original features and the garden at our place. To me a garden simply meant I had to cut the grass or pay someone else to do it. But I’d been happy to go along with whatever made her happy, grateful I didn’t have to make the decision. Now I had to choose, and I found I preferred this sleek, modern, purposefully built flat in the center of town, with no commute and great views. It didn’t require me to do anything. I could just move in and . . . live.

Would Ashleigh like it? I suppose I couldn’t make this decision with anyone else but myself in mind. That was the point, wasn’t it? This was what she wanted from me. To see the decisions in front of me, weigh each one carefully, then pick. Every hour I spent away from her, my focus was getting clearer.

Back inside, I ran my hand along the cool marble of the breakfast bar. Could I see myself reading the paper here?

“There are two bedrooms,” the agent said as I followed her through the flat. She pointed out the master and then the guest bedroom. “There’s a desk in there so you could use it as a study.”

Perhaps it was difficult to picture myself living here because I’d never lived on my own. It struck me that I might get lonely. I could host a Sunday dinner. The dining table seated six, so we’d all fit. Seeing my family here would help me settle. “I can rent from month to month?” I asked. I guess I could try it and see how I liked it.

“Yes, you just need to give thirty days’ notice after the first month, so a minimum two-month stay.”

“I’ll take it.” There was no point in delaying. I needed to take the plunge and move forward.

The agent’s eyes widened.

“And it’s okay if I bring some additional furniture. A sofa . . .” My old brown leather sofa was the only thing I would take from the flat I’d shared with Emma. I loved that thing. It had been my first big, adult purchase, and it had seen a lot of beer, banter and girls. Where I went, the sofa came with me.

“I don’t think that’s a problem. When do you want to move in?”

“You can’t make it happen quick enough.”

The agent grinned. “Let’s go back to the office and get you to sign the paperwork, and I can give you the keys.”

I shoved my hands in my pockets and grinned.

Progress.

Ashleigh

I stared out the window of the café where I’d lunched with Luke just a few weeks ago. It was raining and the windows had begun to fog up. I wiped the glass with the sleeve of my uniform so I could see the raindrops on the outside more clearly. It was like I was watching the inside of my heart. Damp, gray and miserable. Was Luke thinking the same thing? Was he hurting as I was? I wanted to call him, just to hear his voice. To let him tell me that everything was going to be okay. My brain knew that I had to give him space and time to figure out what he really wanted. My heart thought my brain was an idiot.

Adding to my pain was that I couldn’t talk about it with Haven. I didn’t want to create conflict when there was none, but I didn’t want her to tell me I’d been a fool. Not for hoping that a relationship with Luke could work, or for pushing him away. My two best friends were suddenly people who I couldn’t reach out to. The separation felt physical, slicing through me like a million tiny blades.

And then of course there was the guilt. I’d had two patients ask if I was okay. Jesus, that made my stomach tumble. I was distracted, feeling sorry for myself and surrounded by people in their last few weeks of life. How incredibly selfish was that?

“Hey, Ash.” A voice from behind interrupted my self-pity. I was considering whether or not I had the energy to greet the person speaking to me when Richard came into view. “You okay?” he asked.

I nodded and forced the corners of my mouth up in an unconvincing smile. I’d not seen much of Richard since we’d broken up. That wasn’t unusual, and it hadn’t been long. He had probably been on nights. My shifts were more predictable, mainly eight to four with the odd Saturday thrown in. Who said there wasn’t a bright side in palliative care?

“Can I join you?” he asked.

I wanted to say no. I wanted to be left alone with my head full of misery, but Richard was too nice to say no to.

“Sure.” I sat back in my chair, my uneaten sandwich in front of me, as I watched Richard set down his tray, his eyes flickering between his food and my face.

“You seem upset.”

I focused on his throat, not wanting to meet his eyes. How could I tell him that I was heartbroken, just not over him? “Tell me a joke,” I said. “Distract me.”

“A priest, a rabbi and a vicar walk into a bar. The barman says, ‘Is this some kind of joke?’”

I rolled my eyes but managed a genuine smirk.

“Okay, we’re going to need a bigger boat.” He narrowed his eyes then said, “I cleaned the attic with the wife the other day. Now I can’t get the cobwebs out of her hair.”

Half-heartedly, I mimed a roll of the drums and the bash of a cymbal.

“It must be bad. That was funny. What’s up?”

I shrugged and turned back to the rain. “This weather is shit.”

“Yeah, but it’s like this a lot and you’re not normally miserable. How about I cheer you up?”

Richard was being nice, but I just wanted to disappear into myself. I didn’t want to cheer up.

“I have tickets to see Bradley Cooper in The Elephant Man. Wanna come?”

I lifted my chin. What? Was he asking me out to improve my mood, or because he wanted another shot? Perhaps Luke would want another shot with Emma now I’d pushed him away. The thought made my stomach churn.

“Next Thursday, you’re probably busy, but . . .”

“How come you have a spare ticket?” I sounded ungrateful, which wasn’t my intention. I was just trying to establish on what terms he was asking me. “I mean, it’s a popular show.”

“I got them for my mum, but I got the date wrong and she’s away on some yoga retreat. I hoped we were still friends, but if you feel uncomfortable . . .” This time it was Richard’s turn to concentrate on the rain. God, I’d infected him with my bad mood.

“That’s so sweet of you. I’d love to go to the theater.” But how did I make it clear that I wasn’t interested in trying again with him? “I mean, it’s really very kind of you to invite me. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather take someone else?” I didn’t want him to waste a good date opportunity. But at the same time, I was curious how they were going to turn Bradley Cooper, of all people, into the Elephant Man. It was the first time I’d spent a full ten seconds not thinking about Luke. It was a relief to know it was possible.

“No, I’d like us to go together. As friends.” He said the last words as if he were replying to his mother. Yes, I’ll be back my dinner time. Yes, I’ve brushed my teeth. I’d never seen him look so young. He grinned, and I couldn’t help but return his smile.

“I’d like that,” I said. I knew I would. He was a good guy, and I needed to widen my social circle. Spending some time with people outside of Luke’s world would be good for me.

“You never know, Ash, you might just fall in love with me once you see The Elephant Man.”

I rolled my eyes. “Is that your plan?”

“I couldn’t possibly tell you. All I know is the hottest woman at the hospital just agreed to go to the theater with me.”

“Yeah, super-hot. Especially in my clogs.” I pointed to my feet. I wanted to go, but I needed him to know we were in the friend zone.

“I know we’re going as friends. But you can’t rule anything out in this life.” He grinned. “Remember that.”

By the time I finished my shift, the small sliver of light that Richard’s invitation had created had disappeared, and the gray had returned. I kept going to text or call Haven or Luke, then remembering that I couldn’t. I’d switched my phone off. I couldn’t be upset when it didn’t ring if it wasn’t on in the first place.

Girl logic.

I was staring into the fridge, trying to decide if I was hungry enough to make myself an omelet, when I jumped at the sound of the buzzer. Shit, I wasn’t dressed for company. I wasn’t mentally prepared to have to speak to people without coming off crazy. I’d managed it at work—at least I thought I had. No one else had asked if I was okay, so I felt like I’d pulled it off. But it had taken a tremendous effort. Now, all I wanted to do was sit and watch mindless television. My door vibrated under the force of someone’s fist. Fucking hell.

My stomach flipped at the outside possibility that it might be Luke, here to tell me I’d been an idiot, to hold my head in his hands and give me a Hollywood-style kiss. It would be so much easier if that had been his reaction. I would have given in to him, and in the long run, it would have destroyed us. But at least I wouldn’t be feeling as hopeless as I was, and right at that second, that sounded pretty good.

“Open the fucking door, Ash,” Haven yelled. I sprinted to the spyhole to see if she was alone.

“I’m coming, you impatient shrew.” Amongst the shouting, I forgot for a second that maybe it might be awkward, given that I’d had sex with her brother and then dumped him. Or sort of dumped him. Was she going to pick a side? Had she come here to give me a piece of her mind? Put her shoe up my ass?

I flung the door open, and before I got a chance to say anything, she pushed past me carrying supermarket bags.

Haven unpacked what looked like a year’s worth of carbohydrates onto my kitchen counter. “So, I have all mandatory food groups. Wine, ice cream, chocolate, white bread and pizza. Oh yes, and of course, diet Coke.” She began wrestling with the corkscrew. “What do you want to start with?”

I picked up a humungous bar of chocolate and pulled the corners apart.

“You look like you’ve showered,” she said, clearly expecting me to be more of a mess.

“No one died,” I replied.

“No, you just told the love of your life that you didn’t want to be with him.”

I let her words swirl around the kitchen as I tried to work out whether she sounded angry with me. Upset? Disappointed? But I couldn’t hear any of that. Her tone was entirely neutral.

“You think I’m nuts?” I asked.

“I love my brother, right?” Haven glanced at me, and I had to look away. “And I love you. I want you to be happy. From what he’s told me, I get it. I think. But I’m here for you. Until death do us part.”

“You’re a freak. I think those are the vows you exchanged with your husband,” I said, shaking my head.

“The thing is you and I don’t need vows. It’s just how it is.” She thrust a cold glass of wine into my hand and ushered us out of the kitchen, laden with alcohol and snacks.

“I was worried you’d tell me I was an idiot.” I broke off a chunk of chocolate the size of my head.

“I can do, if you want,” Haven replied.

“You know what I’m trying to say. I don’t know if we should talk about this. I mean—”

“Of course we should talk about it.” She took a swig of wine, placed it on the coffee table and sat forward expectantly. “So, pretend he’s not my brother, except I don’t want to hear about his penis. Go.”

I slumped back into the sofa, relieved she was here and wasn’t mad. We were still us, despite what had happened with Luke. Now she was asking, there was no way I wasn’t talking about it. I mean Haven would pin me down and experiment with five different kinds of Chinese water torture if she had to, the mood she was in, but I wanted to talk to her about it.

Tears formed immediately and my forehead became tight. I hadn’t cried about this. I didn’t want to cry because if I did, I was accepting the possibility that Luke and I were over. While I managed to hold back my tears, I was in the world where Luke and I were only temporarily apart. That he would pick me. That we would be together.

“There’s nothing to cry about. You and Luke will happen,” Haven said, vocalizing my thoughts. “This is just, I don’t know, the prequel.” Her weird analogy was oddly comforting.

“How is he?” I asked in a voice so small I wasn’t convinced she’d hear me.

“Do you want to know?”

I slid my eyes across the room, away from Haven’s stare. Did I want to hear about him? Would it make me feel better or worse? I nodded. “Yeah.”

“He moved out.”

“He did?”

“Yup.” She reached for her glass and took another gulp of wine. That was it? Come the fuck on, I needed more details than that. I widened my eyes at her.

“Renting a swanky new pad in the City.”

“Wow, really? That was fast.” I wanted to hear all about it. I wanted to know why he’d chosen the city rather than West London. But I wanted to hear it from him. Still, it was good news, right?

“Yeah, I think he’s surprised himself. He just needed a push. So thank you. Jake and I can go back to shagging like bunnies all over the flat.”

“I’m so pleased I could help.”

“He’s trying to do what you want.” My stomach flipped again. At least he wasn’t angry with me. He hadn’t given up. But I needed him not to be doing things so I would take him back. I wanted him to experience other things and still pick me.

“I just don’t want to be the easy option.”

“I totally get it. He’s all for the status quo. I’m sorry if I put doubts in your head. Me and my big mouth.”

“Come on, Haven. It wasn’t you. Don’t think that. This is about me feeling worthy. I need to know Luke loves me the way I love him. That we’re not just together because it’s the path of least resistance.” I took a deep breath. “I always thought having him would be enough, but I need more.”

“I think it’s brave of you,” she said.

“I might regret it. He might think I’m not worth it, or that there’s someone else better.”

“Then he’s an idiot,” Haven said. “And I can say that because we came out of the same womb. An alternative way of looking at it is that if the worst happens—and I don’t think it will—then it wouldn’t have worked in the long run anyway.”

“And that is why we are friends,” I said and pulled her into a hug.

Luke

Haven had asked me repeatedly why I wouldn’t hire movers, and although I had insisted that real men didn’t need to employ help in these situations—we hired a van, put on our oldest jeans and got the job done ourselves—I was beginning to think she might be right. I was knackered. And my lower back was starting to make its presence felt. Jesus, I felt fifty and I’d barely entered my thirties.

“God, it’s so ugly,” I said as Jake, my old uni mate Adam and I stood staring at my beloved brown leather couch, still trying to catch our breath from lugging the thing up four flights of stairs.

I’d arranged with Emma to collect my stuff from the flat. To be fair, the only big piece of furniture was the sofa, but there seemed to be endless boxes of I-didn’t-know-what filling every inch of the hired van. Emma had packed everything then gone away for the weekend so we wouldn’t run into each other. I felt bad she was still so upset that she was avoiding seeing me. Even though it had only been a few weeks, I’d truly moved on. Not just because I’d slept with Ash—it was more than that. I got to start life again. I’d never have left Emma if she’d not forced marriage, and I would have wasted my life. Since the split, somehow everything tasted slightly sweeter, smelled slightly sweeter. The sun shone slightly brighter. I had choices and opportunities that I could take and make happen . . . or not. It was entirely up to me. I felt invigorated.

“Yeah, it looks like one of the Rolling Stones. Like it’s had a great life, had loads of fun and seen things that would make your toes curl—but it’s old and exhausted and ready to die,” Adam said thoughtfully.

“The Keith Richards of sofas,” Jake chimed in. “And I don’t give a shit about stuff like this, but it is very nineteen ninety-eight.”

I chuckled. They were right. It was old-fashioned and falling apart. No wonder Emma let me have it. She’d kept every other bit of furniture in our flat, and I hadn’t bothered to argue with her. I’d been more than happy to leave the evidence of our life together behind.

“It’s time to let go, mate,” Adam said. “You’re going to be a partner. You’ve moved into this great new pad. Why the fuck do you want some disgusting student sofa in your shiny new life?”

Adam was right. In the last few days, I’d had a new world forced upon me, whether or not I wanted it. And far from finding it scary and unsettling, I was enjoying it. “I think you’re right. I don’t need it or want it. But you know what that means, don’t you?” I asked. “We’ve got to take it back downstairs. We can leave it in that Dumpster on the curb.”

“You’re a fucking arsehole,” Adam replied. “And you’re paying for a curry and enough beer to knock me out after this.”

“On my count,” Jake said. “One, two, three.” We heaved the sofa up and began to retrace our steps.

Despite the fact that I’d clung to this sofa for years, unwilling to give it up, letting it go felt like the right thing to do. We carried it down the stairs, almost beheading Adam on several occasions. It was ridiculous thinking it was so great for so long. I’d had my blinkers firmly on around this sofa, around life in general. Jake was right—it was time to let go. This shift was exactly what Ashleigh had meant, and every moment I spent away from her, the more I understood. I was grateful—she’d forced me to take a wider, bigger look to the future.

Now I was just around the corner, I got into the office earlier. The clock on my computer said it was just gone eight, and I’d been at my desk in our open-plan office for about twenty minutes, Googling triathlon training. Lugging that sofa up and down the stairs had left me half dead. I wasn’t ready to descend into middle age quite yet. I needed some kind of goal to motivate me into getting back into regular gym sessions. Fuck me, the training looked tough. I liked to run, and I’d been on a few cycling holidays in my time, so a triathlon seemed like a good option. It would give me focus and something to do with my weekends when I wasn’t working. Now I wasn’t part of a couple, I found I had a lot more time on my hands than I’d expected. Time I didn’t want to just fritter away or give to my job. Completing a triathlon would be an achievement.

“Hey, Luke.”

Fiona hovered at the side of my desk. An environmental lawyer, she was up for partnership this year too. Her brain was as big as a planet, but she had a quiet manner that meant unless you really listened, she came across like a bit of a flake. She was anything but.

“You a triathlete too?” she asked.

“Thinking about it. It looks fucking hard.”

“It is.” She raised her eyebrows and smiled.

I swiveled in my chair to face her. “Can you testify from experience?”

“I started training a few years ago after a bad breakup,” she continued. “I hadn’t been on a bike since I was a teen, and there were several times before and during the race I thought I might die. But the high after finishing is better than any drug. You should try it. I guarantee you’ll be hooked after your first competition.”

“You think it’s realistic for someone to start at my age?”

“Oh my God, totally. You’re young and you clearly work out.” She glanced away and at the floor. “I mean, you’ll love it.”

I hadn’t worked out much lately, but at least I looked as if I were in good shape, even if I didn’t feel it.

I’d never had a conversation with Fiona other than about work. I’d not considered her existence outside of these four walls, but clearly she was passionate about what she was talking about.

“Any words of wisdom on where to start?”

She leaned across my keyboard and started tapping away. I sat back in my chair and moved slightly. “Here,” she said. “Try this website. If I were you, I’d start with a sprint, and see how you get on.”

“Wow, fifteen miles is a sprint?” It sounded more and more brutal.

She clicked on several menus and scrolled through the site, pulling up a spreadsheet. “Start with a training plan, but don’t be afraid to change the one you come up with. The first time you don’t really know left from right. You’re a big guy, and you look fit, but . . .” A blush bloomed across her cheeks, and she moved away from the keyboard, but continued to stare at the screen. “But you don’t know how your body’s going to react. I could take a look at your plan if you want me to. Perhaps give you some ideas of where to train.”

“That would be great, thanks,” I said through a grin. “It would be good to have someone to talk this shit through with. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Okay, well, email me your plan when you have it, and I’ll take a look. We could go for coffee sometime and look over it.” She shrugged “But I’m sure you’ll be—”

“Let’s grab some time on Friday maybe?” Putting a triathlete in front of me was like the universe telling me I was on the right track. What had been a vague idea thirty minutes ago was firming up to be a realistic proposition. Having someone help me get started was just what I needed.

“After work?” I had back-to-back meetings on Friday.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Fiona grinned and began to head off. Before she got to the door, she froze.

“You came to talk about the Nigelson, case, didn’t you?” I laughed.

She slapped her forehead and spun to face me. “I did. I came to drop this off,” she said, handing me the bunch of papers tucked under her arm. “It’s the environmental report you asked for. I’ve emailed you my analysis, but thought you might want to see the original.”

“Thanks, that’s great. I thought it would take longer.” She managed to get through work like a machine.

“Oh, I had some free time, so I got to it sooner than I expected.” She smiled and turned to leave. “See you Friday.”

Finally, things were coming together. The flat. The triathlon. Even catching up with Adam. I was getting on with my life, just as Ashleigh had wanted me to. But I couldn’t help thinking everything would feel a little better if she were here to share it.