Chapter 1 #4
Or perhaps it was simply that her Aunt Jill’s excellent taste in home decoration and her ability to create an undeniably cosy interior had Gaby’s thoughts turning to words like ‘home’ to describe how it felt to be here.
Gaby unpacked some of her belongings from the suitcase and rucksack she’d brought upstairs.
She kept her possessions to a minimum in order to pursue the life of travel and adventure that she loved, unencumbered by things which had to be packed and moved each time she relocated.
The small storage unit she paid for on the outskirts of London was useful for stowing things she didn’t want to take from place to place—unseasonal clothes, bulky items, trinkets and mementoes and personal things that weren’t required wherever she was living and working.
It always felt good to travel light.
Finding herself unexpectedly back in England as winter arrived meant she might have to visit the London storage unit to dig out some warmer clothes.
She had considered detouring to the storage facility after flying into London but hadn’t wanted to delay reaching her aunt and seeing for herself that she was okay after surgery.
As she took stock of the clothes she’d brought with her, Gaby decided to make the most of what she’d packed and add some new purchases if the temperatures became challenging after spending the last few months in Madrid.
Taking care of her aunt over the coming days was more important than embarking on a prolonged round trip back to London. That particular task could wait for now at least.
Once she’d folded some clothes into the chest of drawers and hung a few items in the wardrobe, she walked to the window. Gaby peeked out through the blinds to where Foxglove Street lay below.
Cars motored up and down the road and people walked up and down the street.
The row of terraced houses opposite were a mirror image of those on this side, each one smart and tidy and well-cared for.
Lights glowed behind windows and Gaby could see a hint of frost sparkling on the damp pavements beneath the streetlamps.
It looked so very different to the view she’d had when she’d stayed here during that long ago summer. In her memory, those days were a carousel of blue skies and endless sunshine, the front gardens along the street bursting with bright greenery and vibrant colour.
And there was another memory suddenly rushing into her head, too—a memory of the boy she’d loved on those golden summer days.
Peter.
She hadn’t thought of him in years. Even as she’d prepared to travel to Hamblehurst to be with her Aunt Jill, he hadn’t come into her mind at all, not even once.
Concern for her aunt had naturally crowded her thoughts, but now that she was here in Jill’s home once more, those memories of her teenage summer love story came flooding back.
Theirs had been a sweet but inevitably short-lived fling.
Gaby had only been staying in Hamblehurst for the summer before leaving to start university in London, while Peter, who was a year older than her at eighteen going on nineteen, was set to return to Manchester for the second year of his own degree studies.
They’d promised to keep in touch but their busy lives took them in different directions and contact eventually fizzled out.
Still, during the short time they’d shared together, she’d been completely infatuated with him, swept off her feet by his handsome face and cool blue eyes and dark unruly hair that swept over his forehead and which he could never seem to tame.
When he’d smiled at her, she’d always lit up inside, and when he’d kissed her… there’d been fireworks.
Gaby smiled at the sweet memory and blushed a little to think of the love-struck girl she’d once been.
Still standing at the bedroom window, she remembered how she’d wait at this very spot and watch for Peter to come by and collect her for their dates together, how her heart would leap when he appeared on the street, how she’d race down the stairs and out the front door to meet him, her heart pounding at the chance to be in his arms again.
The memories felt so real, as if she could reach out and touch them. But outside the window, the November night was dark and frosty, a world away from those sweet summer days.
She closed the blinds and pulled the curtains, wondering what had become of Peter, where he was now and what he was doing with his life.
She wondered if he had forgotten about her, the way she had forgotten about him, and whether, if he did remember her or ever thought about her, he felt the same stab of bittersweet affection for the brief time they’d shared together.
Shaking off her trip down memory lane, Gaby left the guest room to go downstairs and finish dinner and check up on her aunt. The rice would certainly be cooked by now and the casserole warmed through and she didn’t want Jill to wait any longer for the hot meal she was looking forward to.
As she hurried downstairs, she reminded herself that she was here to make herself useful, not reminisce about long-lost yesterdays and the whispering memories of teenage summer love.