Our Last Summer by Jennifer Joyce

Chapter 15

Dominic Gacey, with his warm, brown eyes beneath neat eyebrows and curly hair, and his perma-smile and chilled-out nature, seems to breathe life into Little Heaton. The dull village becomes vibrant overnight, as though the dimmer switch had been cranked up to the max as soon as that first shot in the Royal Oak went down. (It was Yvonne who tipped the first one into her mouth, obviously.) It didn’t matter that we had work in the morning – ‘we’ being everyone but Dominic, whose only responsibility for the rest of his visit was to inject energy and sparkle back into our lives. We were like kids again, more so than when we were building campfires in the woods the previous summer, because it was the carefree attitude Dominic instilled in us rather than the activities that gave us back that sense of freedom.

We explore Little Heaton for the next few days, discovering its hidden charms as though it is our first foray into the village. We rent a barge and somehow bring it back again in one piece, picnicking along the way and chatting to walkers. Yvonne tries to befriend a goose, which doesn’t go as planned and she ends up locking herself in the barge, peering through the little curtained window until the goose gives up waddling furiously after us. We watch a cricket match even though none of us really know the rules apart from Tomasz, who tries not to become exasperated by the constant questions, and we take part in karaoke and bingo at the pub. But best of all, for me at least, is our walks, where we amble for miles, enjoying the countryside that until now we’ve taken for granted.

‘Still want to escape us?’

Ed and I are lying in a meadow of wild flowers while Yvonne, Tomasz and Dominic attempt to fish down by the river. I have no idea where we are, but it feels idyllic with the sun shining down on us while a cooling breeze ruffles the grass and leaves around us.

‘It’s not you I want to escape from.’ I prop myself up on my elbow, so I can look down at Ed. ‘It’s never been about escaping from you.’

‘So I can come with you on your American adventure?’

I smile sadly at Ed. No, no he can’t come with me. I wish he could. I wish I could hold on tight to him and never let him go, but Ed won’t get the chance.

‘Oh my God.’ Ed laughs, leaving his mouth gaping open in outrage. ‘You actually don’t want me to come with you. You want to leave me here, on my tod.’

‘That isn’t true.’ I keep my face neutral, even though I can feel the corners of my mouth tugging. ‘You won’t be on your own – Yvonne will be here.’

Ed’s eyes widen. ‘And that’s supposed to make me feel better?’

‘Stop it.’ I nudge Ed and settle back down so I’m looking up at the sky again. ‘You love Yvonne to bits.’

Ed sighs. ‘It’s true. I do. She’s like the sister I never had. The really annoying little sister. Like Heather.’

‘Heather isn’t so bad.’

Ed sits up, twisting around so he can look down at me. ‘Who are you and what have you done with the real Elodie?’

If only Ed knew I really wasn’t the Elodie who is supposed to be here.

‘What? She isn’t. I know I used to think she was a pain in the arse – and she can still be a pain, actually – but she’s mostly okay. Gillian at work loves her, which makes her like me even more since I recommended her for the job. I’m getting brownie points all round – for Heather and for your volunteers.’

‘You deserve all the brownie points.’ Ed’s hand finds mine and our fingers entwine. ‘You’re amazing. I hope you realise that.’

I squeeze my fingers tighter around Ed’s. There’s something happening. A churning, deep in the pit of my stomach, and my heart rate is picking up, thumping a gallop in my chest. My mouth is dry, making it difficult to swallow and when I speak, my voice cracks.

‘I hope you realise how much I love you, Edward Carter-Brown.’

Ed squeezes my hand back. ‘I love you too, Elodie Parker. Always.’

‘You don’t have to tell me about France.’

Ed’s grip of my hand slackens so it’s only me holding on now. ‘France? What do you mean?’ His voice is hoarse, barely even there at all.

‘You don’t have to tell me about it, but know that I will listen if you ever want to talk. I will hear you. I will love you. No matter what.’

Ed doesn’t say anything. We don’t even look at each other. We stare up at the blue sky, my heart rate slowing with every breath, and I feel at peace for the first time in forever. I wish it could always be like this, but at some point I will have to return to reality.

Ed lifts our hands, properly entwined once again, and he presses his lips to my fingers.

‘Elodie! Ed!’

We prop ourselves up on our elbows. Down by the river, Yvonne is jumping up and down, her arms waving about. Next to her, Tomasz is holding a hand up to his forehead, shielding his eyes from the sun. I can’t see who he’s looking at from over here but it feels like his focus is entirely on me. Wishful thinking, maybe.

‘Come and look what we’ve caught!’

I look at Ed. He smiles, sadly. He doesn’t understand that it really is okay. I lean across and kiss his cheek.

‘Last one to the river has to buy the first round in the pub tonight!’

I’m up on my feet before Ed even has the chance to register my challenge, but he still beats me to the river, where Yvonne proudly presents the smallest fish I have ever seen outside of a goldfish bowl.

‘Are you sure that isn’t a slightly overweight tadpole?’ Ed leans in close to the fish, squinting as though he can hardly make it out. Yvonne whacks him on the arm.

‘It’s a fish, and I caught it all by myself.’

‘Impressive.’ Ed frowns. ‘Though it isn’t every day that the chips are bigger than the fish.’

‘Shut up, you fanny.’ Yvonne whacks him again, harder this time, and Ed rubs at his arm. ‘You’ve never caught anything other than a cold and if you don’t stop winding me up, I’ll be chucking you in the river and not Gilly.’

We head back to the village and Ed walks me home. I have to force myself to prise my hand from his and once upstairs in my bedroom, I pick up the postcard, rereading it for the millionth time before propping it back up against the America fund jar. One day Ed won’t be a fixture in my life and I won’t even have this postcard, with his mishmash handwriting and humour, as a memento of our time together.