Chapter Two
Old Friends
Harri could have sworn he was talking, welcoming her inside, being friendly and relaxed, but it was just possible that he was standing staring with his jaw hanging loose.
‘You okay?’ Annie was saying, making a cautious approach, dropping bags to the warped floorboards as she went, pulling off her hat and casting it aside onto the cash desk.
I’m okay now , Harri thought to himself, still not functioning well enough to say it out loud.
Annie was only an arm’s length away from him now, stripping her long coat off her long body. The lamp lights caught her dangly copper earrings, making them shimmer.
In real life, as opposed to on his phone screen, her eyes really were that unusual Southern Comfort colour he’d half forgotten, half thought he must have imagined. Her mouth was just as beautiful as always, while something soft and life-worn had touched her at the corners of her eyes and between her brows.
He felt her hugging arms around him and found himself forgetting how to hug back. It had been so long since he’d held anyone, and he didn’t want to squeeze her too hard or too limply with his one free arm – the other still shakily gripping the wine glass.
Annie smelled good, though not at all the same as he remembered. There was something sweet and almondy in her skin, a haze of sunshine and red sand in her hair, even here in damp, frosty England. Her presence felt miraculous.
‘Is that for me?’ she asked when she pulled back.
‘Oh,’ he said with a blink, realising she was reaching for the wine, which he surrendered with some relief. ‘Hi,’ he said at last, laughing at his own awkwardness, his hand reflexively lifting to the back of his head.
‘There he is!’ Annie joked. ‘You’re with me now.’
‘God, sorry, I… it’s been a long journey.’
That voice of hers was still vibrating through him, waking up a million old memories. His blood was flowing faster and he hadn’t even taken a sip of wine. This is what it felt like to be standing next to Annie Luna. Now he remembered.
‘Tell me about it,’ she was saying, pouring him a drink like she’d already made herself at home, the metal bangles on her wrists jangling, their sound awakening him further.
He laughed, abashed, tapping his glass to hers. ‘Sorry,’ he said again. ‘It’s… amazing to see you.’
She didn’t say anything, letting him settle down while they both took a drink. She kept her eyes fixed on him over the rim.
Harri remembered now that Mr Luna was something of a wine connoisseur. What would Annie think of this eight quid bottle from the convenience store? He hadn’t even looked at the label, only scanning the price tags for the cheapest one.
‘I needed that,’ she gasped, holding out her empty glass. Clearly she didn’t mind it at all.
There was soft laughter while he refilled her glass, just an inch or so, like Paisley had taught him. Red wine is for savouring, and you only need a little. He’d neck the entire bottle right now if he could; something in his brain was still going haywire.
‘So, you’re here,’ he said, stupidly.
‘Sure am,’ Annie said, looking around the shop before snapping her eyes back to his. ‘And so are you.’
It wasn’t awkward, as such, just momentous. Nine years is a very long time not to stand together in the same room.
They took deep breaths as they scanned their new surroundings, as though evaluating exactly how this was going to work. Panic spiked in Harri that she might be regretting coming all this way.
‘Is it okay?’ he asked.
She didn’t reply. She was staring in wonder at the shop. Something in Annie was blooming, bright and pulsing. He could feel it.
He’d forgotten this about her. Her body was like a transmitter. He’d always been able to, quite literally, feel her enthusiasm; it was shining out of her now like she’d absorbed the desert sunshine and had it on tap, an endless solar supply.
Lowering her glass to her side, Annie’s foot knocked a wonky floorboard as she made for the shelves. She stopped herself stumbling and laughed brightly, her glow only growing.
‘We got our own bookshop,’ she said in that honeyed voice laced with wicked wryness. ‘Our own actual bookshop,’ she said again, flashing amber eyes towards him.
He folded his arms across his ribs, still gripping the stem of his glass. ‘That we do,’ he managed, shocked by how very Welsh his own voice sounded when it mingled in the room with Annie’s drawl.
‘It’s just how I imagined it,’ she said, stepping right inside the maze of shelves and disappearing. Harri’s feet were stuck to the floor until she cried, ‘Come on!’ and he followed her like a shaky-limbed February lamb.
‘You haven’t changed a bit,’ she told him from the deepest point in the book labyrinth, running her hands across the spines in the Adventure Travel section.
He knew that was a big lie. He was nearly thirty and kind of faded around the edges; at least that’s what he thought when he looked in the mirror in the mornings. Maybe it wasn’t showing itself physically, but it was there in his aura. He’d been fading away for years like an old Polaroid.
‘You look great,’ he blurted. ‘Really great. Beautiful, like always.’
Annie laughed again, a touch of shyness in it. He made a mental note not to say anything like this again. She hadn’t seemed to welcome it.
She did look beautiful though, better than beautiful. She was otherworldly somehow, in her long skirts and a jumper that managed to be both cosy-looking and somehow delicate like gossamer. He could see her skin through its woolly gaps all down her arms. She had a slight freckly tan even though it was only February.
‘Do you want to go to bed?’ she said, suddenly, and it drew Harri to a stop.
‘What?’
‘You look kinda…’ She mimed someone looking lost and vague.
‘Oh,’ he tried to laugh it away. ‘It’s been a long day. A long year so far, actually. I’m not really…’ He shrugged, not knowing how to finish his sentence. He hadn’t told her about the break-up, thinking Annie might blame herself for not turning over her place on this trip to Paisley. Not something Harri had wanted. ‘I’ll be firing on all cylinders tomorrow.’
She nodded, letting her eyes move across his face. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking. He only hoped she couldn’t see how faded he was.
‘I’m glad we’re finally doing this,’ he said, making a good show of suddenly admiring the books.
The distraction seemed to work, and Annie turned her attention to the shelves too. ‘I know, right?’ She plucked a title from the Rural Living section and showed it to him, reading aloud. ‘ Grow Your Own Beets for Fun and Profit by Ifor Griffiths. Relative of yours?’
‘Give over,’ he said, laughing, before feigning seriousness and taking the book to examine it. ‘Might be, actually.’ He reshelved it. ‘I preferred the sequel, though. Cabbage Farming: How I Made My First Million .’
He smiled goofily in response to her playful eye roll, and they passed along the shelves, inspecting them in increasingly loud silence.
‘Have you eaten?’ Harri asked eventually, remembering how he’d wanted to make Annie feel welcome and worrying he wasn’t doing a great job so far.
‘Not since the Amsterdam layover,’ she replied.
‘There’s a kitchen,’ he said, even though of course there’s a kitchen. Why was he being like this?
They emerged from the stacks and passed through the low door at the farthest corner of the shop, entering into a room dotted with tables covered in red-and-white checked cloths overhung with red, retro diner lamps. Lace curtains hung at the windows and over the glass of the cafe’s door. Everything in here was shiny and new but with the feel of a snug little hideaway.
They rifled through the white cabinets behind the counter.
‘Ding, ding, ding, jackpot!’ Annie cried, lifting the glass dome on a dish of fresh, fat scones in the walk-in pantry, just as Harri laid his hands on the clotted cream in the refrigerator. ‘And there’s a zillion jars of strawberry jam back here,’ she added.
‘Cream tea it is,’ Harri said, grinning. ‘Welcome to England!’
They paused before the espresso machine with a thick instruction manual by its side.
‘That’s intense,’ observed Annie with a frown.
Harri filled a kettle from the tap. ‘Hey, you’re looking at the three-times winner of Port Talbot’s “Best Cappuccino” award. Nothing could scare me less. But how about tea since it’s getting late?’
While Annie extracted a promise that Harri would be the only one expected to brew speciality coffees for customers this vacation, they worked out how to use the grill and toasted two split scones and carried it all back to the fireplace in the bookshop.
Annie flicked the shop lights off, apart from the lamp closest to the hearth so the depths of the room fell dark. They flopped down on the beanbags in their warm, glowing spot. Annie pulled off her boots with a sigh while Harri poured milk into mugs.
Frosty designs were forming at the edges of the windows. Sleet pattered sharply in the courtyard outside where the strands of glowing light bulbs swung in the breeze, casting a shifting, twinkling light along the fireside wall.
Neither spoke while the tea was poured and the warm scones were spread with jam and thick cream.
Annie took bite after bite, smiling and ravenous.
‘Happy?’ Harri asked, watching her enjoying her food.
She didn’t answer, only taking another bite. Her hunger made him wolf his food too. He’d forgotten how much they’d loved doing this. All those paper-wrapped fish and chip dinners devoured down on the water’s edge watching Aber sunsets and drinking Coke, all those Red Velvets and milky teas in the Students’ Union caff. Annie loved to eat and so did he, though recently he’d had no appetite at all. He smiled at the memories and filled his mouth again before a haunting voice spoke sharply in his mind.
Slow down, chew your food!
Paisley never seemed to take much pleasure in eating. He pictured her in their spotless little kitchen now, industriously making cheese and pickle sandwiches to take to work in the morning. He reminded himself sadly that if she was joyless, it was because he’d made her that way. There it was again: the guilt.
If only he’d been able to make her happy. He’d been in their relationship for years without fully being present. She’d deserved better all along.
‘Harri?’ Annie held the last bite of scone halfway to her lips. ‘You okay?’
‘Uh, well…’ He glanced from Annie’s face to the flames in the fireplace. It would be a shame to spoil the cosiness. ‘I’m fabulous.’ That sounded off. Definitely. ‘So, tell me…’ he tried, casually, ‘how’s life as a school librarian? Has Principal Johnson chilled out at all?’
Annie shoved in the last bite then spoke with a curled finger covering her mouth. ‘He was still meaner than a junkyard dog last time I checked.’
‘Sorry to hear that.’
She shrugged then asked him how his parents were. Harri got the impression she was trying to avoid discussing school, so he confessed guiltily he’d not seen his folks as much as he’d have liked, especially over Christmas, but they seemed fine. ‘Same as always.’
He’d avoided telling his parents that things were increasingly rocky with Paisley – his dad thought she was the best thing to happen to Harri – and so he’d avoided seeing them at all after the Boxing Day break-up and he’d kept on avoiding them right up until yesterday when he’d popped in to his childhood home to deliver the bombshell news that he was heading to England for two weeks. He’d made sure his dad was out at work first.
His mum tended to worry about Harri, and his dad had a habit of gruffly urging him to do better, making comparisons between himself with his successful conservatory-installation business and the feckless Harri who hadn’t made a go of anything yet, leaving Harri wondering if he’d somehow missed some mysterious lesson in manhood and now it was too late to catch up. Either way, it was hard to keep his parents from losing sleep over his wellbeing or his position in life.
He’d left his mum to break the news of his split with Paisley, and he hadn’t heard anything from either of them since, though he’d texted his mum this morning to let her know he’d made his train.
‘Mum sends her love,’ Harri said, and it was true, she had. In fact, she’d told him with a wagging finger to make sure he didn’t do anything to upset Annie while she was on her holidays.
‘Tell her I said hi back.’ Annie smiled, wiping the crumbs from her front.
Harri reached for his phone. ‘Send her a picture?’
Annie shifted over, perching precariously on Harri’s beanbag, squashed against his side, and he took a shot of them in the glow of the firelight. Annie looked beautiful. He looked like a ghost.
He quickly sent it, knowing for sure his mum would read into this. She’d always liked Annie; in contrast to her lukewarm, but always polite and welcoming, regard for Paisley.
An immediate love heart emoji shot back to them all the way from Wales. Annie smiled to see it. Instead of returning to her spot, she pulled her beanbag right up close to Harri’s in front of the fire and settled herself again, cradling her mug, smiling into the firelight.
‘Did you let your folks know you arrived safely?’ Harri asked.
‘Mom’s tracking my movements,’ Annie replied, nodding to one of the bags on the floor that presumably contained her phone. ‘She got so sick of me forgetting to reply to messages she installed an app like my middle graders have.’
‘Good thinking,’ Harri teased. They both knew how she could go to ground. It was just her way and never malicious.
‘I get wrapped up in my stuff,’ she shrugged.
‘How was Mr Luna about this trip?’ Harri ventured with a grimace. There was no way her dad would approve.
‘He sends you a great big snuggly hug.’
‘I’ll bet he does.’
The fire crackled as they settled into each other’s company. It was easy, Harri was beginning to think, like no time had passed at all.
‘I’m glad we kept this going,’ Annie said, seemingly reading his mind. ‘Nine years.’
‘That’s a lot of messages,’ Harri said, shaking his head. ‘I’m proud of us.’
‘Who knew we’d be such good postcard writers?’
‘Some of us were better than others,’ he said through quirking lips.
Annie faked an indignant shove at his arm, making sure not to knock his mug.
‘Hey!’ he laughed. ‘Here’s to us. Class of 2016, eh?’
They clinked mugs before drinking.
‘And how’s Paisley?’ Annie asked, inevitably.
‘Uh…’ Harri let a long moment pass. ‘Well…’
‘You broke up.’
‘How did you know?’
Annie consulted an invisible watch. ‘We’ve been here over an hour and she hasn’t called once to check I’m not molesting you.’
Harri suppressed a smile. ‘You got me.’
‘Was it this vacation?’
‘No. Well, not really. The holiday might have been the final straw, but it’s been a long time coming. My fault, mostly.’
‘ Hmmm .’
His eyes snapped to Annie’s.
‘I’m sorry,’ she protested, ‘but it takes two, and you’ve been a perfect boyfriend.’
‘Hardly,’ he said, thinking he might cry and that would be hideous for both of them.
This time she really did shove his arm, but she seemed to be biting her lip too, reconsidering something that had been on the tip of her tongue. She composed herself and after a breath said she was ‘real sorry’ and asked if he was doing okay.
‘I’m fine, honestly. Glad I had this trip to distract me. It’s nice to be wanted somewhere.’
Annie nodded and looked away. There was a new caution in her that he wasn’t used to. Annie usually spoke her mind. ‘I’m sure you’ll patch things up again,’ she said, like that was all she had.
Harri peered at her. ‘You reckon? I thought you might be glad.’ Like, deep down, he was. Harri inwardly berated himself. What an awful thing to think.
‘Uh-uh. I’m saying nothing. I’ve learned my lesson over break-ups.’
‘What does that mean?’
Annie’s face softened into a sad smile. He wasn’t used to seeing her unsure of herself.
‘What’s the matter? Has something happened?’ He searched his mind trying to recall if she’d mentioned seeing anyone lately but there hadn’t been anybody since that thing with Billy the maths teacher had fizzled out last spring and she hadn’t mentioned him since. ‘Did I miss something?’
Annie let out a heavy sigh. ‘You remember Cassidy?’
‘Course I do.’
She was Annie’s best friend back in Texas. They’d been joined at the hip as kids and after uni they’d picked up right back where they’d left off. Harri was always glad Annie had her in her life, a true friend amongst all the hangers-on and admirers.
‘We haven’t spoken since New Year’s.’ Annie’s voice wavered. ‘Remember I told you about her boyfriend?’
Harri set his mug on the floor. ‘Deadbeat Dave?’
‘That’s the one.’
Of course Harri remembered him. Annie had hated him on sight back when he and Cassidy first got together. He’d been one great big red flag for two whole years, but Cassidy couldn’t see it. It had killed Annie to see him breaking down her best friend, one undermining comment, barefaced lie or outright insult at a time. The women had been planning on moving in together, finally getting Annie away from her grumpy father, but Dave had put the mockers on that idea.
‘He finally got caught cheating?’ Harri asked.
‘Yep, and they had a blazing row. Whole thing imploded and I can’t say I was sorry. Fact is, I let it all out. I really thought he was gone for good, so I told her I’d had him figured for a skeeze since day one, and how she was a million times better off without him. Even told her he’d tried it on with me at happy hour on Christmas Eve! We did the whole break-up bit; revenge hair dye and cocktails, everything. We had a blast. It was like having the old Cassidy back.’
‘What colour did she go?’ Harri asked.
‘Red.’
He nodded. ‘Good choice.’
‘ Right? Anyway, Dave came crawling back at New Year’s and they got back together.’
‘No way!’
‘I know! And I could not hold my tongue. I told her she was a fool and he’d only do it again, and it hurt me so bad standing by watching her slumming it with a two-bit man baby.’
‘Ah!’ Harri winced, realising what was coming. ‘She didn’t take it well?’
‘She did not.’ Annie’s eyes flooded with tears, something Harri had never seen before.
‘Oh my god, Annwyl!’ he was reaching for her but she had already drawn her knees up and was hugging her legs, hunched over.
‘She hasn’t spoken to me since,’ Annie said into the fabric of her skirts before turning her face to Harri’s. ‘And I’ve called and messaged, even went round her place…’
‘How did that go?’
‘Dave was there and he stood in the doorway with his arm around her neck like a chokehold, and she looked so mad at me. He told me to get off their property and I left. That was the last time I saw her.’
‘Their property? I thought the house was hers?’
‘It is. He knows when he has a good thing going.’
‘ Hmm . And now she won’t talk to you?’
‘Nope.’ Annie sniffed. ‘Feels worse than any break-up I ever had.’
Harri wished he could rub her back or something, but he kept his hands to himself. ‘She’ll come round, won’t she? When he gets caught out again?’
‘I have no clue. But if she does, I’ve learned my lesson. When friends break up, I keep my big mouth shut. Trashing their ex is not smart. How was I to know they’d get back together?’ She hugged her legs tighter. ‘I even told her we called him Deadbeat Dave.’
‘Oh shit.’
‘And now I’ve lost my best friend.’
‘Hey, joint best friend, surely?’ Harri tried to joke.
‘I’m hurtin’ for her,’ Annie said, sitting upright.
Her sad eyes pained him. Annie usually laughed things off but this was like nothing he’d witnessed before.
‘You’ll make it up, I know you will,’ he told her.
She shook her head, eyes glazing as she let them settle on the flames. ‘You didn’t see how she was set on hating me. I can’t forget the way she looked, like she was so done with me. Even when it all happens again, and it will, he’s got his hooks in her so deep she’ll forgive him, and I’ll stay cut off like this.’ Tears tracked down her cheeks.
Nine years of distance and his arms were wanting to reach for her after just ninety minutes? He stopped himself pulling her close. ‘I’m so sorry that happened to you,’ he said instead. ‘And I’m sorry for Cassidy too. Losing you won’t be easy for her either.’
Annie’s shoulders shook as she wept without a sound. This was new ground for both of them. What a way to start the holiday.
She slumped lower in the beanbag but had already seemed determined to stop feeling sorry for herself. ‘Here’s me breaking my heart and you’ve had a falling out with Paisley,’ she said, swiping a hand over her wet cheek.
‘What a pair of sad sacks we are,’ said Harri, inwardly comparing his sadness over his break-up with Annie’s heartbreak at losing her friend. Annie seemed to be taking things much harder.
When he really examined it, the strongest feeling in his heart was one of regret at having squandered a decade on a relationship that, if he’d been honest with himself, had been all but over for the last couple of years. He’d wasted Paisley’s twenties. On cue, along came regret’s companion, guilt.
‘Don’t go rebounding,’ Annie was offering, wisely. ‘It’s never a good idea. I did it myself a couple of times at Aber, remember?’
Harri screwed up his face like he was thinking. ‘Did you? Ah, it was all so long ago.’
Of course he remembered. Watching Annie hurling herself into another doomed fling with some rugby lad or bar crawl creep. It had felt rotten, but what could he do? He’d been on the sidelines while she’d been full steam ahead onto the next thing, and the next, never resting.
Annie seemed different now, though. She was calmer, if a little disillusioned and sad. Maybe they both were.
Sighing heavily, he hatched his fingers over his stomach. A stillness settled and for a while they said nothing, lost in their separate thoughts.
‘I couldn’t stand it if I lost you too,’ Annie said eventually, as they stared into the dying fire.
‘Luckily, you’re not going to.’
Annie reached for his hand. He watched as his own travelled reflexively for hers. Her fingers were cool.
‘Friends for life?’ she said.
‘Yep, friends for life,’ he echoed, ignoring the unwelcome feelings this set off within him. ‘And we’re going to have the perfect bookselling holiday, okay? I promise. No more upsets.’
She nodded and squeezed his hand before letting go. She didn’t seem to register the awkwardness of it. ‘And you’ll be back together with Paisley in no time,’ she offered.
Harri knew that was never going to happen but there was no point pushing back against his friend who’d been burned so badly with Cassidy and Deadbeat Dave. How could she possibly know what to say for the best after all that?
‘And you and Cassidy will be back on speaking terms very soon,’ he insisted, even though he couldn’t be sure about that. ‘Just you wait.’
In the glow from the fire, not to mention the wine, the tea and the scones, and the feeling of having unburdened themselves after a long, long journey of nine years, Harri made a solemn, unspoken promise.
Annie’s heart was already broken from losing one friend so there was no way he was going to risk all they’d built between them by following his inconvenient, and no doubt faulty, instincts that they could be more than friends one day – no matter how insistent those instincts were.
He was as alone in the world as Annie now was, and if he couldn’t be fulfilled and carefree on this holiday, he’d damn well make sure Annie could. He’d pour his whole heart into making her feel safe and secure. That’s what friends did for one another.
So, he sat by her side reminiscing about their uni days until the embers in the grate cooled to an ashy white, and they took themselves off to separate beds; Annie upstairs and Harri in the little bedroom just off the shopfloor, where he repeated his promise as he drifted off to sleep.
If Annie Luna ever suffered again, it would not be for the loss of their precious friendship.