Our Last Summer by Jennifer Joyce
Chapter 34
It must have been really late when Tomasz got back from work, because I’d eventually fallen asleep in an empty bed after midnight. I’d woken briefly to find him curled around my body, warm and comforting, but he’s already gone again by the time my alarm wakes me. He really is pushing himself to make sure he’s ready to leave in a few days’ time, but the problem is, I’m no longer sure I’m ready. I want to talk to Tomasz about it, to air my worries and concerns so I can work out whether they’re true doubts or simply my scaredy-cat tendencies surfacing and making me think I want to stay, pushing down my dreams and keeping me from going for what I really want.
My gaze automatically shifts to the right as I leave the flat, seeking out the pub, and the knot tightens in my stomach. I thought it had gone, but it’s simply been hiding in the background, ready to pounce should I feel the slightest inkling of trepidation. I don’t know why, but I half expect to see Sacha tearing out from the drive with Ed riding behind him. But all is quiet on the high street. The heavy curtains are drawn across the windows of the pub and the shutters are still down on most of the shops and businesses. Only the café and the minimarket are open as I make my way through the village to the path at the bottom of the hill.
A car passes as I near the hotel gates, its horn beeping twice, and I raise my hand as I recognise Gillian’s car. She’s making her way across the gravelled car park, laden down with bags and boxes as I reach the end of the tree-lined drive, and I hurry over to unburden her of some of the bags looped onto her wrists.
‘A few nibbly bits.’ She puffs away a stray bit of hair that’s falling into her eye. ‘And cake.’ She shifts the weight of the two wide boxes she’s carrying. I see an assortment of iced doughnuts and buttercream-topped muffins through the transparent plastic lid.
‘It’s your last day.’
Gillian’s move to the US was slightly ahead of my own, and although it had only been a few days, she’d seemed completely at home by the time she met me at the airport in California. As she had at Durban Castle, she’d taken me under her wing, settling me into the apartment where she’d already stocked the fridge and the cupboards with a few basics, and she’d insisted on taking me out to eat that first night, which was lucky as I don’t think I’d have eaten at all if she hadn’t been so firm. She assumed my lethargy was due to jet lag but it was more of a stricken, hollowed-out feeling. What have I done?
Gillian puffs the stray hair away again now, more aggressively this time. ‘In a matter of hours, I’ll walk down these steps for the last time.’ She ascends the first stone step carefully, making sure she doesn’t drop the boxes of cake. ‘And then I have to go home and finish off my packing. My cases for the flight are all sorted, but it’s the rest of it that’s the problem. How can one person own so much? I’m having to get rid of most of it – there’s no way I can ship everything from my two-bed semi and expect it to fit in my new place.’
‘Can’t you keep some things in storage for when you move into a bigger place?’ Like the yellow three-bed family home in Baltimore she lives in now? It’s on the other side of the country to California, which is why we barely see each other these days and I’ve only been to the new house once, for the baby shower of her last pregnancy, but it was such a pretty house and so warm and so clearly full of love. Family photos lined almost every wall in the place and it made me ache to see what I was missing out on.
‘Nah.’ Confident now that she isn’t going to splat the cakes on the ground, Gillian skips up the rest of the steps. ‘It’s a fresh start, isn’t it? No need to keep hold of the old life I’m leaving behind.’
I push a smile onto my face as the knot hardens in my stomach. ‘I guess not.’
‘It’s mainly crap anyway.’ Gillian nods her thanks as she steps through the door I’ve just opened for her. ‘I’m taking the important stuff, obviously, but I don’t need stacks of ancient CDs – who listens to CDs anymore? – or boxes stuffed with old school reports and certificates. And the shoes! I’ve got pairs I haven’t worn since I was in my twenties and never will again. This is the perfect excuse for a declutter, and I’m going to be brutal.’
I think of the things I left behind, in the flat and in my loft bedroom back at Mum and Dad’s. I’d viewed it as a fresh start too, and I’d been even more brutal in my culling than Gillian as I wanted to leave everything behind, including the memories of Ed and of Tomasz. I wanted to start again, pain-free, and I’d certainly done my best to leave it all behind in the past where it belonged. It didn’t make me happy though.
‘How are you getting on with your packing?’ We’re in the hotel lobby now, and Gillian nods in greeting as we pass members of staff.
‘We’re getting there.’ Which translates as ‘we haven’t even started yet’. But then we aren’t taking much with us; the flat above the charity shop is rented as furnished, so we don’t have anything big that requires shipping. We’re mostly taking clothes and a few sentimental bits and pieces. Everything else is staying up in my loft bedroom at Mum and Dad’s (which Heather is not happy about. What a waste of space. I could be using that room as a massive walk-in wardrobe).
‘Are you excited about the move?’ Gillian’s marching along the corridor, eyes focused ahead, so she doesn’t clock the hesitancy on my face.
‘Yeah. Course I am.’ I try to inject springiness in my voice but my words limp out. Gillian stops and twists to face me.
‘It’s a bit scary, isn’t it?’ One corner of her mouth flicks up. ‘A big change. But also a big adventure.’ She sets off walking again. ‘You’ll be fine. You’ll flourish, I’m sure of it. I have every faith in you, Elodie.’
Which is great, it really is, and I know that, once in California, I’d work my little socks off to live up to Gillian’s expectations, to prove that she was right to have faith in my abilities. I know I can do it. The question is, do I want to?
Mel’s in a huff again. I bring him a chocolate honeycomb muffin from one of the boxes in Gillian’s office but even that isn’t enough to lighten his mood. He shoots daggers from across the room, gives terse answers using as few words as possible (or simply grunts if he can get away with it) any time I ask him a question or attempt to chat. In the end I give up and leave him to his gloomy attitude and concentrate on my work. I’m trying to tie up as many loose ends as possible, to make my replacement’s first few days as smooth as possible. I’d met the new girl briefly, on her way out after her interview, but it was four years ago and I’m struggling to picture her now. Struggling to picture her sitting at my desk, using my computer, sliding open my drawers and fixing papers together with my stapler.
I head over to the staffroom at lunchtime, where Gillian has set out the nibbly bits and the cakes that have survived the morning. Mel refuses to join us, claiming he has too much work to do (because some of us aren’t jetting off to California, he adds with a pointed look) but Heather’s there, even though she isn’t on shift.
‘I wanted to come and say goodbye to Gillian.’ Heather leans in close, her eyes on the hotel manager across the room even though she’s speaking to me. ‘Plus, Marv texted me to say there was free food.’ She takes a huge bite of a doughnut topped with caramel icing and fudge pieces. ‘And it isn’t as though there’s anything else to do around here. I can’t even work on my tan.’ She stretches out a pale arm. ‘Why is it raining so much? It’s supposed to be summer.’
My gaze flicks to the window. There are dark clouds looming, giving off an ominous vibe, and the knot in my stomach constricts again.
‘You’re so lucky, moving to LA. You’ll have a tan within a week while I’m stuck here, soaking wet and miserable. You’ll be on the beach and I’ll be listening to Dad going on and on about his cucumbers.’ Heather lifts the doughnut to her mouth, but she hesitates before taking a bite. ‘What? Why are you looking at me like that?’
‘I thought you liked it here now. I thought you wanted a teaching position close by.’
Heather shrugs. ‘Maybe I’ve changed my mind again. Maybe I’m sick of being stuck in this dump. Or maybe I’ve just got really bad PMT.’
Heather didn’t change her mind again because four years on she’s still in the village. And she isn’t stuck here. She chose to stay, and she’s happy. Can I do that too? Choose to stay and be happy?
It’s still gloomy once I finish work for the day, the indigo sky peeking out from between the charcoal-coloured clouds. Gillian left an hour ago, slipping out without fuss as she told me she would because otherwise she’d be a gibbering wreck. She’d squeezed my hands the last time I saw her in her office, and she’d told me how proud she was of me, how she knew I’d flourish, and I’d felt like a fraud. Like I was letting her down.
I’m still thinking about Gillian and California when I step through the hotel gates, my mind full to the brim with decisions, of the future and what it holds, and I jump when someone pushes themselves off the gate’s pillar, where they’ve been lurking.
‘Tomasz.’ My hand is on my chest, and I laugh with relief. ‘What are you doing, loitering like that?’
Tomasz kisses my cheek. ‘Waiting for you. I thought we could go for a walk.’
‘In this?’ I look up at the sky. It isn’t raining, but the opportunity is there.
‘Scared of a bit of rain?’
I am, actually. It was raining the night Ed died. Big fat sheets of it bearing down. Maybe the accident wouldn’t have happened if the roads hadn’t been so treacherous. My stomach is in knots again even though I know Ed is safe now that Ronnie has been and gone without incident.
‘Why don’t we go to the pub?’
Tomasz shakes his head. ‘I’ve got something else in mind.’ He takes my hand in his and leads me down the hill. Instead of turning right towards the high street and the flat, we head left, over the footbridge and onto the lane that runs along the edge of the woods.
‘We’re not going on the rope swing, are we?’ I remember the first day I arrived back in Little Heaton, when I thought I was dead, especially when I saw Ed standing on the river bank. It was the day I found the Kim Wilde cassette up in the loft. The day the dream of escaping the village solidified and I discovered a destination to aim for. I fulfilled that dream but here I am, back in Little Heaton, and I don’t want to say goodbye.
‘We’re not going into the woods.’ Tomasz leads me along the lane until we turn onto the horseshoe-shaped cul-de-sac. Buttercup View, with its pretty gardens and grass verges. We pass the garden overrun with wild flowers and I notice the iron bench that’s been added underneath the window. The perfect place to watch the wildlife enjoying the plants. There’s a bee flitting among the forget-me-nots and a butterfly hovers for a moment before it flutters away.
We follow the curve of the pavement until we reach the dead end, but instead of turning around and heading back, we cut across the field to the canal, stopping at the lock. Tomasz indicates that I should hop up onto the wooden beam, and he lowers himself down onto one knee once I’m settled.
‘I stopped off at the jeweller’s after work.’ He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the vintage ring box he produced after his grandmother’s funeral. ‘I know I’ve asked before, but I quite liked it when you said yes, so I’m asking again now the ring’s been resized.’ He opens the box, and there’s the beautiful engagement ring, glittering despite the gloomy day. ‘Elodie Parker, will you marry me?’
I want to answer immediately. To say yes and throw my arms around him. But I can’t. Not yet.
I place my hand over the ring. ‘Before I answer, I need to talk to you.’ Tomasz’s smile falters and his eyebrows pull down. There’s a flash of panic in his eyes, and I realise he thinks I’ve changed my mind. Which I have, but not about him, about us. Never about us. ‘Of course I want to marry you. I’d marry you tomorrow if I could. Right now, in fact. But I spoke to Gillian today. About the move to California.’ I swallow hard and shift my gaze so I’m looking at the trees beyond the towpath rather than at Tomasz. ‘I told her that I don’t want to go after all. I want to stay here, in Little Heaton. And I know it’s stupidly short notice, and I’m messing everyone around …’ I’d been afraid to voice my concerns to Gillian, but she was unbelievably understanding, and she’s promised to sort everything out. She was so lovely to me, even though I’ve added more stress and work at a time when she has those things in abundance, and when I suggested I was letting her down, she told me that I absolutely wasn’t and that by going along with the move to please her, I’d be letting myself down.
‘Elodie.’ Tomasz shifts so I’m forced to meet his eye. ‘I’ve told you I’d go wherever I needed to be to make you happy, whether that’s California or the moon or right here. I love you and I want to marry you, and it doesn’t matter to me where we are, as long as we’re together.’
‘So you don’t mind that we’ll have to un-organise everything?’
Tomasz shakes his head. ‘Couldn’t care less.’
I lift my hand, uncovering the ring. ‘You’d better ask me again then.’
‘You want me to ask for a third time?’
I shrug, a smile tugging at my lips. ‘You did say you liked doing it.’
‘I said I liked it when you said yes.’
I quirk an eyebrow. ‘Then ask me.’
He does – for a third time – and I say yes. I wouldn’t dream of saying anything else. Tomasz slips the ring onto my finger. It’s the perfect fit. Sliding down from the wooden beam, I throw my arms around my fiancé. And then that’s when I feel the first fat drop of rain.