Never forget you, p.8
Never Forget You, page 8
Alice smiled as she plumped a pillow and placed it back on the bed. ‘She’s a force to be reckoned with, your aunt, isn’t she?’
He let out a gruff laugh. ‘She is that.’
He did some preliminary checks on the sink – definitely blocked again – and was just about to get going when Willow burst through the door. ‘There you are!’ she said. ‘Can we go on a fairy walk? Please?’
Alice shot him a quizzical look. ‘A fairy walk?’
‘Why don’t you fill Alice in?’ Ben said to Willow.
‘It’s something we do every Sunday,’ the little girl said, lolling against the door jamb. ‘We go up to the castle gardens and hunt for fairies, and pixies, and sprites! I never seem to be fast enough to spot them, but Uncle Ben does sometimes, don’t you, Uncle Ben?’
Alice hid a smile. ‘You do?’
‘Only sometimes,’ he replied seriously.
‘I know!’ Willow said. ‘Why don’t you come with us? Then you can see for yourself.’
‘I’m not sure Alice will want to—’
‘Why not? I’ve never seen a fairy before.’ Alice shot a wink at Ben. ‘And I’d like to see the castle up close.’
‘Yay!’ Willow said, practically bouncing up and down. ‘It’ll be nice to have another girl come along. Auntie Nee-nee’s hips aren’t up to fairy walks. I’ll go and get my coat!’
‘Hang on, wee miss! If you hadn’t noticed, Alice and I have work to do. It’ll have to wait until after lunch.’
Willow’s face fell. ‘That’s going to be ages!’
‘How about you do the homework you’ve got, and then we can have an extra-long walk?’
Willow’s disgruntled expression didn’t change, but she said ‘fine!’ in a way her mother would have been proud of and stomped off.
‘She’s a lovely little girl,’ Alice said when Willow was out of earshot. ‘Quite a character.’
‘That she is,’ Ben said, as he went back into the tiny en suite, knelt on the floor and put a bucket under the U-bend so he could undo it.
‘What brought her to live here with you and Norina?’
Ben stopped what he was doing and stared at the plastic joint he was unscrewing. When he’d got back to Invergarrig, the town grapevine had already been at work so everyone had known what had happened to Cat, which had saved him the chore of telling the story over and over, but it meant he wasn’t used to saying these words out loud. He cleared his throat, continued removing the U-bend, and attempted to keep his tone neutral. ‘My sister, Willow’s mum, died almost a year ago.’
He’d been able to hear the rustle of sheets, pillows being punched and fluffed, but the noise stopped. A shadow fell across the open bathroom door. ‘I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked, shouldn’t have been so nosey …’
He turned to look at her, silhouetted against the bright morning light streaming through the tall windows on the other side of the room. She maintained eye contact, didn’t look away, which was more than some of the townspeople had done when he’d returned home.
‘That must have been awful,’ she added softly.
He grunted. That was an understatement. ‘Yeah, it was. But it was worse for Willow.’
He turned to fiddle with the plumbing again, finding it was easier to talk when he was looking at the underneath of a sink. ‘Sometimes I wonder if she really gets it, if she isn’t expecting her mum to walk through the door one day, sit down at the kitchen table and talk someone into making her a cup of tea, the way she always did.’
‘Did your sister live in Invergarrig too?’
He shook his head. ‘Glasgow.’
‘That must have been a big change for Willow,’ she said. ‘To lose her mum and move here in all one go.’
He got up off the floor and met her enquiring gaze. ‘Willow was already living here. Norina’s had custody of her for the last three years. Cat had … issues. Addiction issues. She got clean while she was pregnant and stayed that way for a couple of years. I didn’t ever doubt her love for Willow, but her lifestyle …’ He shook his head and looked away. ‘Willow needed stability, a chance to have a proper education, not skip from place to place to avoid angry landlords. Or worse.’ He sighed. ‘I hoped we wouldn’t need to rely on it, but I pushed Cat to draw up a will, and after she died we discovered she’d named me as Willow’s guardian, not Norina, as we’d all assumed she would, so Willow is my responsibility now.’
Alice nodded, her eyes full of understanding. ‘Well, she seems a very bright and confident little girl. You seem to be doing a terrific job.’
‘We’re … managing.’ At least, he hoped they were.
‘And you sure you don’t mind if I come on this walk with you?’
He turned his attention back to the sink, a messy problem but a simple one compared to examining how he felt about Cat’s death. ‘I’d be glad of the company.’
Chapter Fourteen
Eleven months before the wedding.
JUSTIN AND I strolled along The Strand towards Charing Cross station. Even though it was only half past ten, it was still moderately busy. People milled on the pavement, either just having spilled out of a theatre after seeing a West End show, ready to eat or wend their way home. Others were fresh off the train, raring to start their night out in the bars and clubs of nearby Soho. Lights glittered, and buses and taxis rumbled past us intermittently, along with a few brave cyclists.
Justin jammed his hands in his coat pockets, his expression earnest. It made him look closer to my age. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘If you like.’
‘What made you leave the Conservatory?’
I gulped in a breath. Oh. He wanted to talk about that – the one thing I’d really rather not discuss. But I’d dug my own grave regarding this. When we’d gone for coffee, I’d been so desperate to make him like me that I’d mentioned where I’d studied music. It had only taken a little bit of burrowing on his part to get more out of me. However, as I mirrored him, hiding my clenched fists in my own pockets, I realised that maybe he was the one person who might understand.
‘I got in on a scholarship. I knew I was really lucky, and I was so excited to go. Finally, I could be with people who loved music as much as I did. I thought it would be heaven.’
‘But it wasn’t?’
I sighed. ‘No, it really wasn’t.’ And I went on to tell him about Charlie Bloody Banister and his campaign to make sure he shone, and I didn’t.
‘You didn’t let him get to you, did you?’
I looked back at Justin, my expression heavy. ‘I wish I could tell you I didn’t. It started out as something so small … I was asked to play principal second violin in the Conservatory’s concerto orchestra – quite a coup for someone only just starting their second year. Charlie got in, but only as fifth chair in my section. Every time we played, I could feel him watching me, judging me. Sometimes he’d scrape his chair or do terrible fake coughing to put me off. It didn’t always work, but I began to get more and more nervous every time I performed, just in case it’d be one of the times it did. Things went from bad to worse after that.’
It hadn’t helped that when I’d returned to the Conservatory for my second year, that I was feeling low and unmotivated. I had Ben the Photographer to thank for that, too – but I didn’t tell Justin about that. It seemed too personal to reveal at that point.
‘And then it just became a vicious cycle – the more nervous I got about performing, the more mistakes I made. Even the tutors and lecturers commented on it.’ I looked down at my feet as I walked. ‘I knew they all thought they’d made a mistake, that they should have given the scholarship to someone else. Eventually, it got too much, and I dropped out.’
‘You couldn’t have lasted it out?’
I laughed softly to myself. I was sure someone like Justin could have done, but I’d discovered I was just as pathetic as they all thought I was. Too weak. Not cut out for it. ‘I was given one last chance, a solo.’ I paused. My stomach chilled even at the thought of it. ‘I made an absolute mess of it. Just forgot the music mid-flow … And then I sat there on the stage, frozen like a rabbit in the headlights until somebody started to slow clap. I’m sure it was him – Charlie. I ran off the stage, crying my eyes out, and promptly threw up in the nearest toilet. After that, I couldn’t face going back. And even if I could, what good is a violinist who can’t play in front of people?’
Justin stopped walking and turned to face me. He put a hand on either of my shoulders, making me look at him. ‘But you know that what you’ve been doing, coming up to London to busk … That shows how incredibly brave you are. You proved to yourself that you can play in front of people.’
I gave him a watery smile. ‘I know, I am pleased about that, but …’
‘But?’
‘It’s not the same.’
‘Why not?’
I broke eye contact. ‘Because those people don’t matter. They can’t shape my future, give me the dreams I want for myself. They might enjoy a piece of pretty music as they stroll on by, but that’s it.’ While those had been the very reasons I’d started busking in the first place, they were now starting to chafe.
‘I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.’ He waited for me to look at him again. ‘I believe in you.’
I smiled, just a little, and saw the corners of his mouth curl up in return, but then he grew serious, let his hands drop from my shoulders, and we began walking again. ‘If you want to survive in this business, you can’t let other people define you.’
I made a small, scoffing laugh. ‘That’s easy for someone like you to say.’
His head turned sharply. ‘There are always people out there who want to undermine you if you have real talent.’ He fell silent for a moment. ‘I don’t normally share this with people, but I think you need to hear this …’
I held my breath, heart swelling that he might have singled me out in any way.
‘I was married,’ he said, his voice and expression bleak. ‘She was a dancer … We built my company together, both as hungry for success as each other, and while we were still making our mark, it was okay. But once we’d reached a certain level, she became restless. I didn’t see it at first – I loved her so much, you see. I put Paulina on a pedestal, and it blinded me to who she really was.’
‘What did she do?’ I asked breathlessly.
‘She betrayed me.’ He stared ahead as we neared Charing Cross and turned down the cobbled road that ran beside it towards Embankment Tube station. ‘She deserted me on the opening night of one of our most important premieres. No word, no apology – just disappeared. Thankfully, we had an understudy. Later, I discovered she’d left me for another man who had connections to the Royal Ballet. I’m pretty sure something had been going on for months, if not years.’
I stared at Justin. I couldn’t compute how anyone could consider him anything less than perfect.
His expression darkened. ‘That bitch only married me for what I could do for her, and what she thought she could get out of me. She took everything I’d done for her and threw it back in my face.’
I felt a sudden flush of hatred for this anonymous woman, for how she’d hurt him, because it was clear the wound went deep, even now. Yet, I marvelled at how together he appeared, how confident. It gave me hope that one day I might bounce back too, that maybe I wasn’t a lost cause after all.
We’d reached the outside of the station, and he stopped and turned to me. ‘This is what I’m saying … You have to take what happened to you and let it make you stronger. It’s the only way.’
I nodded mutely. I knew he was telling the truth; I just didn’t know how to do that.
As if he was reading my mind, he said, ‘And this job is your first step.’
‘What if I can’t do it? What if I freeze and can’t play?’
‘Didn’t you say that it’s when you play live you have an issue?’
‘Yes.’
‘I think you can do it – you’ve been busking in front of people for weeks.’
I wished I had his certainty. ‘Thank you,’ I said, ‘for everything you’ve done.’
He stared back into my eyes. As the seconds ticked past, I began to flush, and just as I thought he was going to dip his head, that he was actually going to kiss me, he exhaled loudly and turned away. He waved his arm to attract one of the black cabs parked under the nearby bridge, then took my hand and led me towards one with its orange ‘For Hire’ sign lit up.
‘What are you doing? I can’t—’
‘I don’t like the thought of you travelling home alone on the Underground, and then the train,’ he said. ‘It’s late, and you’re a beautiful young woman …’
I forgot to argue with him because there was only one thought circuiting my head: He called me beautiful.
He opened the rear door and ushered me inside, and prepared to talk through the rolled-down passenger window to the driver. ‘Where do you live?’
‘Penge. But that’s more than ten miles away.’ I glanced at the driver and lowered my voice. ‘It’ll cost a fortune!’
He shrugged. ‘I won’t be happy unless you let me take care of you this way.’
I was tempted to argue. Not because I didn’t want to take a cab – I really didn’t like travelling on my own at night; sometimes there were some real weirdos on the stopping train to Orpington – but because it felt like too much.
Yet again, he read my mind. He looked at me seriously, but there was a playfulness behind his eyes. ‘Let me do this for you.’
I stared back at him as he rested his hand on the roof of the cab, his face above mine and oh so close. I wished he would close the distance, but he’d given no indication that he saw me as anything but a talented youngster to help along the way. And that would have to be enough. It was enough. After our dinner tonight, and our talk as we’d walked back to the station, I no longer felt as if the world was ending. He had a way of building me up so I could almost believe in myself again.
‘Good night.’ He closed the door and rapped a couple of times on the roof to signal the driver, but before it could pull away, he opened the door, jumped inside and grabbed my hand. ‘I can’t bear to say goodbye,’ he said, looking deep into my eyes. ‘You’re the most astonishing creature I’ve ever met – an angel – and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for weeks! I’m sorry, but I just have to do this …’
And he leaned in and kissed me the way I’d wanted him to all evening.
Chapter Fifteen
Now.
THE WINDING DRIVE that led to Invergarrig Castle was long, lined with grassy banks. There was a field on one side, a lichen-covered woodland on the other, shielding it from the main road that led out of town. Alice walked beside Ben in comfortable silence as Willow ran ahead, now and then scampering back to them with a guess at where the elusive fairies might be found.
It had been a long day. She’d been up since four, unable to sleep properly and knocking on the door of the B&B at six on the dot. However, she’d rather be on this ‘fairy walk’ with Ben and Willow, rather than sitting in that little cottage, only her thoughts for company.
Work at the B&B had been satisfying. Norina had put her in charge of bacon, mushrooms and toast. It had felt completely natural to stand at the large six-ring hob, pushing rashers around the pan, as if it was something she’d done a thousand times before. It had made her happy to think that something from her missing life had stuck, that she had at least one piece of information about herself – she could cook. However, whether she could do anything more complicated than breakfast was still to be seen.
She glanced across at Ben, who had his hands in his pockets, his gaze far away. She’d been aware of him the very second he’d stepped into the kitchen that morning, even though she hadn’t turned to look at him. She might have been imagining it, but she’d sensed him studying her. Not in a scrutinising way, but in a way that had made it hard to concentrate. One or two bits of bacon might’ve ended up a little darker than they should have been. She’d flipped them onto the other side and hoped Norina wouldn’t notice.
They walked in silence for a while, watching Willow skipping ahead, listening to her singing just for the joy of it. ‘Can I ask you about something the doctor said the other day?’ Alice said.
‘Of course.’
‘I don’t think I really took it in at first, but am I right in thinking he said that if my memories come back in a rush that I’ll forget what happened while … Well, while I’m in this fugue state, or whatever it’s called.’
‘That sounds right. Why?’
Alice frowned. ‘It wasn’t nice, what happened the other morning … Realising I didn’t know where I was or even who I was. I think I’d rather avoid that if I could, but I don’t know if there’s anything I can do to stop it.’
‘I can understand why that would make you anxious.’ Ben thought for a few moments, then added, ‘I might not have a solution for that problem, but I can think of something that might help in a different way.’
‘You can?’
Ben stopped walking and called for Willow to not get too far ahead. ‘Have you got the phone Norina gave you?’
Alice nodded and pulled it from her pocket.
‘If you do lose your memories again, you won’t be able to remember where you’ve been, but that doesn’t mean you can’t keep a record to fill in the gaps in your knowledge.’ He gestured for her to give him the phone, opened the camera and handed it back to her. ‘Words and thoughts, maybe not, but pictures and images, yes. At least it would give you a clue.’
Alice stared intently at the phone screen, which was currently focused on the gravelly path and her boots. ‘You mean, like a diary of sorts?’
‘I was thinking more of a visual record of places you visit – road signs, landmarks, that kind of thing, but whatever floats your boat.’
Alice looked at him and smiled. ‘That’s a great idea. I mean, it won’t stop me from forgetting anything, but at least I’ll have some clue what has happened to me until that point, and I can also make a record that I’ve got a tentative diagnosis.’
