Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
‘A llie! This is a surprise. Is Martin expecting you?’
‘No, erm, actually it was you I came to see. Well, both of you really. But mainly you.’
Allie squirmed as she stood on the steps of Martin and Angie’s beautiful home. She had been preparing for this moment for ages. But her preparation had been the frantic typing variety and not the planning what to say when you got there kind. And now that she was here, she didn’t really know how to express all the feelings she was experiencing.
‘Here, these are for you.’ She thrust one of the bags she was carrying into Angie’s hand and took a step back, momentarily teetering on the edge of one of the steps before righting herself.
‘What’s this?’ Angie asked in surprise and glanced into the bag. ‘Are these my books?’ She picked one out and flicked to the front page. ‘You signed them all?’ She looked up at Allie. ‘To me?’
‘Well yes. I did suggest we go for a bit of variety and swap in some different names. But Martin told me I was being weird and to get on with it because he wanted to surprise you this side of Christmas.’
Angie put the bag down on the steps and picked another book out, flicking again to the front page. ‘They’re all different?’
‘Yes. I mean, they’re all signed to you. But Martin wanted me to add in something about what was happening in your lives, or where you were when you bought the copy.’
With painstaking accuracy, Martin had gone through all the copies of Allie’s books that he had discovered Angie had, and worked out what they would have been doing when Angie had bought each one.
‘Oh goodness. This one I bought in the WHSmith at St Pancras when we were going to Paris for a long weekend. He remembered?’ Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at Allie and for a horrible moment Allie wondered if she and Martin had completely misjudged this and that maybe some of these weren’t happy memories for Angie. But Angie’s face broke into a smile. ‘He remembered,’ she said again softly. ‘That was such a fun weekend. We hadn’t been to Paris in years. We had all these plans to do all the touristy things but instead we spent the weekend drinking red wine, eating delicious food, people watching…’ Her voice drifted off and a different smile spread on her face, a secret smile this time.
‘I remembered,’ confirmed Martin who had come up behind Angie and now put his arms around her and softly kissed her neck, ‘or at least I worked it out.’ Allie didn’t know whether to look away or just leave. But this was actually sweet, not voyeuristic. She could sense their shared history, their happy memories.
‘Thank you, my love.’ Angie turned and cupped Martin’s face in her hands and kissed him. ‘And thank you!’ She turned back to Allie. ‘I love these. I love that you both did this for me. Will you come in?’ she asked.
Allie shook her head. ‘No, I’ve got somewhere I need to be. But I have something else for you, too.’ She put down her rucksack and carefully lifted out a bound manuscript. ‘No, wrong one.’ She slotted it back into her bag and took out a second similarly sized manuscript. ‘This is for you both.’ She held it out.
‘What’s this?’ Martin asked, reaching around Angie to take it.
‘It’s yours, it’s your story.’
‘You finished?!’ Martin stared at Allie with wide eyes. ‘Good god, Allie, that’s amazing. Need to get cracking with mine now; you’re putting me to shame. I can’t wait to read it.’
Angie looked piercingly at Allie. ‘Sweetheart, why are you giving this to us?’
‘As I said, it’s your story.’
‘Yes, but it’s your story too,’ Angie said gently, ‘you’re the one who’s telling it.’
‘And I will,’ said Allie more decisively than she felt. ‘But I need to know you’re OK with me doing so. So, this is it.’ She pointed at the parcel of paper that Martin held. ‘I know I could have emailed it, but it felt more symbolic bringing it to you like this. And no one else is going to read it until both you and Martin have, and are happy for me to share.’
‘You haven’t sent this to Verity yet?’ Martin sounded incredulous.
Allie shook her head. ‘No. I’m not going to. Not unless and until you’re OK for me to do so.’
Angie stepped down towards Allie and gave her a big hug. ‘You sweet, sweet girl. I cannot wait to read it, and thank you for doing this.’
Allie could have stayed in Angie’s embrace for hours, but she had places to be, or more specifically, one place to be. Reluctantly she disentangled herself. ‘Complete honesty?’ she said, fixing both Angie and Martin with a stare.
‘Complete honesty,’ Angie agreed, while Martin held up his hand in something which probably approximated the Boy Scout salute back in 1955.
‘OK, well, let me know…’ Allie turned and walked back down the steps, down the path.
She was at the gate when Angie called, ‘Allie? What’s the other one for? The other manuscript you’ve got in your bag?’
Allie bit her lip and turned back. ‘That’s a different story. And it’s something I needed to do, to make amends. And, also, to remind myself that I still should have faith in happy-ever-afters.’ Angie looked at her and Allie felt that she knew exactly what that story was and where Allie was heading next. Martin simply looked bemused by this exchange and ushered Angie back inside muttering something about the bar opening and it being G&T time. Allie smiled to herself as she headed back out into the London street. One grand romantic gesture down, one to go.
* * *
Allie wasn’t feeling so romantic as she stood on the street outside Will’s flat, clutching the rucksack containing her hopes and dreams to her chest, waiting for him to answer the doorbell. She stood and waited, and waited some more. This one she had all worked out. She knew exactly what she wanted to say, she knew exactly what she needed to say. And in the rucksack she was clutching, she had what she wanted to give to Will. It was all part of her grand romantic gesture, her plan for catching and keeping that happy-ever-after that had eluded her for so many years.
But because fate was a fickle thing and because the universe definitely was conspiring against her, it looked very much like Will wasn’t at home. Allie thought about waiting it out. Perhaps he had nipped to the shops? He might not be long. Wouldn’t it be romantic for him to come back and find her on his doorstep, not quite having run through the rain, but certainly having braved the weather for him? But as the minutes ticked past, Allie had to concede that expiring on Will’s doorstep might not be quite the romantic gesture she had been aiming for. Admitting defeat, she sighed and opened up her rucksack, carefully taking out the bound manuscript and placing it on the doorstep, arranging it in such a way as to be tucked under the lintel but still visible so that Will wouldn’t miss it when he finally got back from wherever he was. Allie took a deep inhale and stepped back, put her rucksack on and started to walk away before changing her mind. She should leave a note. She should definitely leave a note. She patted down her pockets looking for something to write on and came up with half a crumpled tissue. She scrunched her nose up. No matter how important she felt it was to leave a note, she couldn’t face Will thinking she’d left it on a used tissue. Searching through her bag she found a chewed biro, but no paper. Looking back down at the manuscript, she sighed and picked it up. Ideally she wouldn’t deface the cover of her carefully bound love letter to Will but realising that it was probably fitting to dedicate it to him and before she could overthink yet one more thing in her life she leaned against the brick wall and wrote:
Will, this is for you. I no longer think you have my heart, I know you do. A xx
If someone had been watching, Allie would have held the manuscript to her lips and kissed it dramatically, just to add to the romantic gesture. But no one was about, certainly not anyone who gave half a hoot what she had just written. So instead, she carefully placed the manuscript back down and turned and left, hoping that Will would make it home before the arrival of the inevitable London rain.