Chapter 13
13
CALLUM
I lie in bed flat on my back with my arm around Emma, who’s sleeping nestled against me as she so often used to.
Her hair’s spread across my chest, the weight of her limbs feels comforting rather than heavy, and I love the way it feels as though her breathing’s synced with mine.
I love her. I love everything about her.
I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t want to get hurt either. But most of all I don’t want to hurt her.
I pull her a little bit more tightly against me and stare up at the caravan’s tiled ceiling.
There are stains on it. How did they get there?
I look around the caravan. Its thin grey curtains are nothing against the imprint-your-retina-strong morning sunlight, so I’m almost blinking from the brightness. The interior of the caravan is very brown. Shit-brown. And the fixtures and fittings, such as they are, are only just the right side of acceptable for a very low-price rental.
It’s an incongruous place to have had the most glorious sex with the only woman I’ve ever loved, who I’m going to have to say goodbye to soon.
I have to tell her about Thea. I thought I’d decided that I wasn’t going to but I’m going to have to; I can’t just walk away from her without giving her some kind of a good reason.
The thing is, though, that I can’t leave Emma right now. I can’t. Not just because when I do it’s going to be a huge wrench, but because I honestly can’t bear the thought of abandoning her to the situations she gets into due to her friendliness. And the way people are just drawn to her. Plus, if she feels anywhere near as heartbroken as I’m going to, the north of Italy with the whole of France still to cover before she gets home is not the ideal place for her to be when she finds out that I have to walk away.
I also can’t arrive back in London with her, though; I feel like our real home lives should not collide.
The ideal location for us to part ways would be Paris, I realise. I can tell her I can’t commit to any kind of relationship, because I don’t want to keep on hurting her over and over again, and I think the sticking-plaster approach has to be the best one. I can make sure she’s safely on her way back to London – I’m sure that, even at Emma’s speed, it can’t be that long a drive from Paris to Calais – and I’m sure it will be easy for me to find another transport option from there.
And before that, I will be careful not to pour out all the love and endearments that I want to lavish on her – I will do my best to make it clear that this is just for now – but, if she’s also keen, I will enjoy these few days with her.
So I’ll tell her about Thea when we get to Paris. And then I’ll go.
God. Thea. I didn’t call her yesterday. I messaged her but had no time to phone. That obviously does happen sometimes, but I hate it when it does.
It actually never happens because of a girlfriend; and that’s just more proof that being with Emma causes me to behave differently and not necessarily well.
Which is further confirmation that we should not be together.
And now, decision made, I’m going to get on with enjoying every last moment with Emma until we part in Paris but first I think I have to be very explicit right now about the fact that this cannot be more than a holiday fling effectively. And if she then doesn’t want to do anything intimate again I will obviously totally get that.
I wrap my arms fully around her, and she stirs and immediately turns her face up to mine. I kiss her and then I pull back a little, proud of myself as I do it, because obviously I don’t want to say anything and spoil this moment, but also I do now have to be honest.
‘I feel…’ I begin. God. This is hard. Okay, just a couple of sentences. ‘This is magical, amazing, wonderful. But I don’t think…’ Oh my God this is difficult. ‘I think, for me, this, us , can only be for this trip.’
She stares into my eyes for what feels like minutes, and then she whispers, ‘Okay.’
She’s been in my arms the whole time. I tighten my grip on her and she wriggles so that her arms come round me and then she turns her face to mine and we kiss and kiss before making love like the end of the world’s coming.