Chapter 16
Was she thinking about him as much as he was thinking about her?
Did she feel the same need not to break the new strand of connection that had been spun the night of the storm, when he’d shared the dream that had given him a reason to keep living?
Hearing her voice would be holding on to that strand too tightly but a text message was soft enough not to break something fragile, and the alert tone he’d chosen as the signature for a message from Sophie – a clear ‘ting’ of a bell, like the touch of two delicate champagne glasses – felt like it was echoing in his heart and filling his chest so fast it made him catch his breath. Every single time.
I’m going to meet one of the people my solicitor, Paul, has chosen to be a trustee for the charity. He’s retired now but he was the headmaster of the school that gave me my scholarship.
The school that Tom changed to, after he met you?
Camberwell Academy. We had 3 years there together. Good times. I wonder if he’ll remember me?
Of course he will.
It was a busy week. There were contractors to catch up with because some work was allowed to start before planning permission for anything structural was granted.
Pest Control guys tell me the rats are gone. Apparently some were the size of cats.
OMG. Gross!
The mould’s getting dealt with now. Wallpaper, curtains and carpets are being ripped out. Look at this.
He’d sent a photograph of the carnage in one of the rooms but it wasn’t the mess Sophie had noticed.
That fireplace is gorgeous. What’s on the tiles?
Flowers.
LOL. What kind of flowers?
No idea. Blue.
He zoomed in on an antique ceramic tile to send her a picture of the petals.
They’re delphiniums. So pretty. Are you going to keep the fireplace?
Of course I will.
How could he not?
Those flowers were the colour of Sophie’s eyes.
The colour of the Mediterranean when the sun was high and the sea was calm in the wake of a summer storm.
He’d stood staring at that fireplace for the longest time.
Remembering the storm at the Villa Céleste.
Reliving that kiss. Yet again.
Had Sophie done this a thousand times since then, like he had?
Did she feel like she was standing on the very edge of an emotional precipice with the choice of running for safety or letting herself fall, not knowing what was waiting below or whether or not it would be survivable?
Luc certainly did.
He was teetering.
The urge to run was there, because that kiss reminded him of every fantasy he’d ever had about Sophie. The guilt that had come from that secret pleasure because he knew he was stealing something from Tom that, disconcertingly, felt like one of the foundation stones of their friendship.
Trust.
He’d hidden his feelings so well that Tom thought he didn’t approve of, or particularly like, Hannah’s best friend.
That yes, she was beautiful but, as far as Luc was concerned, the jury was out on whether a cloud of blonde waves, a smile that lit up a room and eyes the royal blue of a highly prized sapphire were enough to be sure that she was ‘the one’?
‘No need to rush, mate. The rest of your life is a long, long time.’
How many things would he have chosen to do differently if he’d had any idea of how little time there actually was?
Could he have saved Tom that night?
Of course he could have.
If he’d only known.
The pain of what had been the end was still there. It would always be there, wouldn’t it?
But it felt different now.
As if he was looking at it through some kind of protective barrier, like a pane of glass. And was it muted in some way? A bit blurry – as if that glass had been spattered with rain?
It couldn’t be simply the passage of time that was making the difference. Ten years was more than enough and this was only happening right now. Was it this house and the two halves of his life that it encompassed with the grandeur of Dulwich and the grit of Camberwell?
Was it that a dream that Tom’s death could be the catalyst for this house’s potential to change lives – save lives – was taking the final steps towards becoming a reality?
Or was it that every time he heard the sound of that tiny bell he knew that Sophie didn’t hate him any longer? That with every passing day, that new strand between them was getting stronger.
Maybe it had always been there. That, if they were both courageous enough to hold it tightly, they would discover that it was indestructible.
But perhaps what was capturing him so completely in this moment that he couldn’t breathe, let alone move, was the feeling of standing on that precipice.
Holding his arms out wide.
Wondering if, by some miracle, when he took that leap of faith he might discover that he could, in fact, fly…