Our Last Summer by Jennifer Joyce

Chapter 37

I don’t even wait for Emily to move out of the way. I make a dash for it, squeezing past her legs and the seat, scuttling along the aisle and praying nobody gets to the loo before I do. Throwing myself into the tiny cubicle, I slide the door shut and slam the lock across before turning and puking into the toilet bowl.

None of it was real. I didn’t stop the accident. I didn’t choose to stay in Little Heaton and be happy with Tomasz. I ran away and focused on my work so that I wouldn’t have to think about the life I’d left behind. I didn’t save Ed so he could live a long and happy life. I didn’t inspire Yvonne to strive for her career goals, and I didn’t get a tattoo of little wild flowers to remind myself of how brave I can be.

I wash my hands and face and stare back at the woman in the mirror. She isn’t brave or inspiring. She’s a coward who hides behind make-believe lands. I twist in the mirror and move my vest top aside, to prove to her that she’s a fraud. A failure. See that blank space there? That’s where you pretended to have a tattoo. And you believed it for a little while. What a fool! But wait. The tattoo is there. A sprig of wild flowers inked onto my shoulder blade. I reach round to rub it away but it remains on my skin as though it’s real.

My return to my seat is slower as I try to get my head around what’s going on. What’s real and what isn’t. But it’s all jumbled up in my brain: Dolly and Emily, Little Heaton and California, the grief after the accident and the euphoria of stopping it. I boarded the plane and sat next to Dolly. But I also boarded the plane and sat next to Emily. They both offered sympathy and comfort. Before that there was the bar. Talking to Yvonne on the phone. Talking to … someone else. They’re there, flashing up in my consciousness. I can see them sitting beside me in the bar, but only for a second, not long enough to grasp hold of the memory to see who it was.

‘Feeling any better?’ Emily moves out into the aisle so I can get to my seat, rubbing my back as I pass. ‘You poor thing.’

‘I think I will try and have a sleep.’ I settle into my seat and close my eyes. I don’t think I’ll be able to drop off – there’s far too much buzzing around my brain – but I need a moment to try to try to gather my thoughts and I’ll be left alone if people think I’m dozing.

If I did time-travel – as the tattoo suggests I did – why am I still on this flight? And why has Dolly disappeared?

I must drop off because I dream about Tomasz. I can’t see him, but I hear his voice, muffled but definitely him. And I dream about Ed, very much alive, his head thrown back in laughter. We’re on a beach with a cliff or a hill covered in trees to the left, and Dominic is there with us. He’s the one that has made Ed laugh and he’s smiling, pleased with the reaction.

‘Ugh. I feel rough.’

Neither Ed nor Dominic say these words. Puzzled, I turn to my right, and here’s Tomasz. I can see him now and I take his hand and press his fingers to my lips. I’m so glad he’s here, but where’s Yvonne? She should be here too.

Ed sniggers. I think he’s laughing at Tomasz for feeling unwell, which isn’t very nice. But when I look at Tomasz again, he’s pressing his lips together, his shoulders shaking, and then he erupts in laughter. He doesn’t look unwell. He looks happy, which makes me feel happy. I feel laughter bubbling up inside me and I don’t fight it. Out it spills, and it feels good.

My neck hurts and the corner of my mouth feels damp. It takes me a moment to figure out where I am: Little Heaton, California or Canada. Canada? Why would I be in Canada? I wipe a hand over my mouth and sit up, wincing as my neck twinges.

‘Feeling any better?’ Emily peers at me closely, smiling when I nod carefully. I’m still confused but the nausea has subsided. ‘Good. He’s popped to the loo, I think.’ She nods at the seat beyond me, and when I turn – delicately, because of my neck – I find it’s empty apart from the fleecy blanket.

‘I’ve got the bag if I need it.’ I rub at my neck with one hand while lifting the sick bag that’s been resting on my lap while I’ve napped. ‘How long have I been asleep?’

‘Not long. Twenty minutes? Not quite an episode of this.’ Emily points at the screen in front of her, which is paused on a sitcom.

‘Your headphones are working?’

She frowns. ‘They are. Aren’t yours?’ I shake my head, trying to clear the jumbled mess in there, but Emily assumes I’m answering her question and she tuts before leaning in close and lowering her voice. ‘You should swap with your boyfriend. Quick, while he’s in the loo. It isn’t like he’s using them – he’s been asleep for most of the flight. Hangover, looks like to me. He’s got the same haunted look my Graham has after a night out with the lads.’

‘It was Ed’s fault. He kept insisting on one more drink, I won’t see you for months.’

My head whips round – jeez, my neck – and there’s Tomasz, standing in the aisle, stooping to lift up the blanket from the seat.

‘I knew it.’ Emily places a hand on my arm. ‘Is that why you’re feeling poorly? I thought it was travel sickness.’

I don’t answer her. I can’t take my eyes off Tomasz. He lowers himself onto the seat, wincing.

‘I’m never drinking again.’

Emily snorts. ‘I’ve heard that before. Many times.’

Tomasz rests his head on the back of the seat and arranges his blanket before closing his eyes. Dolly’s gone, replaced by Emily, and the snoring bloke’s been switched for Tomasz.

‘Ed made you drink?’

‘Yep.’ Tomasz doesn’t open his eyes. He barely moves his lips.

‘While we were in Canada.’ It’s starting to come back to me now. This isn’t a flight from LA. I’m not going back for Heather’s wedding, though she is getting married in a few days. We’re going home. To Little Heaton.

The memories are starting to form now. I did stop the accident, and Ed is alive and travelling with Dominic. They’re staying in Canada for the rest of the summer before moving on to Mexico, the Bahamas, Jamaica. Then they’re going to make their way back through Europe before returning to the UK in time for Christmas.

The plane lurches suddenly, and I grab hold of Tomasz’s arm, clinging on to him tight. I don’t want to leave again. I want to be right here, with Tomasz, heading back to the life I love.

‘It’s okay.’ Tomasz shifts so his head is resting against mine. ‘It’s just a bit of turbulence.’

I still don’t let go.

Dad picks us up from the airport and I’ve never been so happy to listen to a mashup of politics and potatoes as he updates us on what we’ve missed over the past two weeks in government and his garden. He doesn’t drop us off at the flat above the charity shop, carrying on instead to Buttercup View, to the house with the red door and the garden overflowing with wild flowers. Our home.

Tomasz and I aren’t married yet. I look down at my hand as we make our way along the path to the front door. My finger is bare because one of the diamonds in my engagement ring is loose and it’s at the jeweller’s for repair. We will get round to planning the wedding, it’s just we’ve been so busy with the new house and our careers. After their grandfather’s death, Tomasz and Sacha inherited a chunk of money, which they invested in a rundown property to fix up. It sold for a healthy profit and they’ve been repeating the process ever since. I was lucky to keep my job at the hotel after I backed out of the promotion, because even though my position in events had already been filled, Gillian managed to keep me on in the department and I’ve been working my socks off to prove she was right to do so ever since. I may not be the manager of a hotel in sunny LA, but I am damn good at organising events in Little Heaton.

‘Your mum’s been over, to put a few bits in the fridge and the cupboard.’ Dad hefts my suitcase over the threshold once I’ve unlocked the door. ‘Bread, milk, that kind of thing. Laura wants you to phone her – Yvonne too – to let them know how Ed’s getting on.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘The lad’s only been out of the country for a few months – you’d think he’d fallen off the face of the earth.’

Sacha explained everything to Yvonne on the night the accident should have taken place. He waited outside her flat until she got home so he could apologise, and he grovelled (which Yvonne enjoyed quite a lot) until she forgave him. Yvonne believed Sacha when he said the new baby wasn’t his, and she was right to, as Ronnie had to eventually admit she wasn’t even pregnant again. Yvonne and Sacha live together in the flat above the salon now, where Poppy has a bedroom of her own when she visits. Yvonne has spent the past few years building her business, growing the brand, and expanding into the shop next door. She’s successful and happy and I’m so proud of everything she’s achieved. She’s due to give birth in three weeks, which is why she didn’t come to Canada with us.

‘And your sister’s in a flap. Says you’re the worst maid of honour ever because you didn’t get back to her about abseiling?’ Dad raises his eyebrows, shaking his head when I confirm that yes, he does have that right. Heather is still in Little Heaton, and her wedding is just over a week away. She did move out of the village, briefly, before she applied for a teaching position at our old primary school. As an added bonus, she fell in love with the deputy head. The hen night is in a few days, and she wants to kick it all off with some indoor abseiling. I wasn’t sure if I’d be up for it so I’ve been avoiding her calls and messages.

‘Anyway, I’d better get going. My next taxi fare is waiting.’ Dad rolls his eyes again. ‘Your gran reckons she can’t walk over to the church hall anymore for her knit and jabber group. Wants me to ferry her over.’ He tuts, but he dashes out of the house after checking the time and realising he’s running late.

‘Shall we get the kettle on?’ Tomasz nudges one of the suitcases with his foot. ‘Sort this out later?’

‘Good plan.’ I should have been relaxing on the plane, watching films and napping. I’ve been running around the village for weeks on end. I’m knackered and I’m still feeling a bit queasy after the flight. Forget unpacking, I could sleep for a week.

I fill the kettle while Tomasz grabs the milk from the fridge.

‘You can tell your mum’s been round.’ I’m reaching into the cupboard for a couple of mugs but turn to see Tomasz brandishing a bottle of wine with a metallic red bow stuck to it.

‘Ooh, forget the tea. Let’s crack that open.’

Tomasz slides the wine back into the fridge door and grabs the milk instead. When he nudges the door shut, I spot Ed’s postcard from France. Mum found it when she was stripping the bed after I’d moved out and she’d kept hold of it for me, keeping it safe until it was discovered again during a massive clear-out Dad insisted on. It’s been on the fridge ever since. A reminder of everything I could have lost.

Tomasz places the milk on the worktop. ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’

Probably. It’s been a tough flight and a lot has changed. I’m sure there are bits I haven’t caught up with yet, but I can’t explain this to Tomasz.

‘There’s a reason I’m hungover and you’re not.’

I’m not hungover? I certainly feel as though I had a few the night before.

‘The test?’

I snatch my hand away from the cupboard, where I’ve reached for the mugs again. The test. I took one before we set off for Canada even though it was a bit early. It was negative but I didn’t drink anyway, just in case. My period was due while we were away, which means I’m now officially late.

‘The test.’ I close the cupboard. I no longer want tea. I no longer want to sleep for a week. ‘I’ll go and do it now.’

There are two pregnancy tests in the bathroom cabinet. We’ve been trying for nearly a year so I don’t have to bother with the instructions. I give Laura a quick call while we wait for the required two minutes, letting her know that Ed is fine. Brilliant, in fact. I’ve never seen him so happy and I can’t wait until Christmas when he’ll be back in the village and everyone I love the most in the world will be in one place. I don’t have time to call Yvonne so I send her a quick text, letting her know that Ed’s doing great and I’ll phone her later. Hopefully I’ll have some amazing news to share with her.

I put my phone down and pick up the test. Tomasz takes my hand in his and gives it a squeeze. I turn it over and hold it between us, so we can read the result at the same time.

I don’t know how and I don’t know why, but I was given the opportunity to go back and alter my life, and I’ll be forever grateful because as I stand here, one hand squeezing my boyfriend’s hand so hard I think his bones will be crushed to dust and the other holding a plastic stick with two blue lines, I’ve ended up with the most perfect life I could ever have wished for.

Gripped by Our Last Summer? Don’t miss The Accidental Life Swap, another unputdownable novel from Jennifer Joyce. Available now!

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