Apart

Chapter 33

Amy: All I Want is You

It’s a strange feeling now that the wedding is over.

We’ve been planning it for months, and I feel a kind of emptiness without that to focus on.

I’m desperate to go back and see Mark, he seems to be the only way I can communicate with James.

I just don’t seem to be able to connect with him myself.

Why is that? Tom reckons he communicates with Daphne every day.

But he can’t explain exactly how – it just happens.

So why not for me and James? Did James just not love me enough?

I honestly don’t think it’s a shortage of love on my side.

I can’t imagine how I could possibly love him more than I do.

The only time I was convinced I heard his voice was on the night of the wedding, but there’s been nothing since, and the more I think about it, the more I have to put it down to my having a bit too much to drink, and my overactive imagination.

So, it seems the only way I can communicate with James is via Mark.

And now I’m even questioning that. The other day I stupidly made the mistake of telling my mother about the reading I had with him.

‘So, it must be real, there has to be an afterlife – and James still loves me,’ I pronounced, during a phone call.

‘Oh Amy, don’t be so na?ve,’ she retorted.

‘But he knew his name and everything. I never told Mark his name,’ I persist.

‘Come on, darling, he’ll have looked you up on Insta,’ my mum replies, cheerily chipping away at my belief.

‘But you know I don’t do socials any more.’

‘Oh, you and James will have been tagged in dozens of other people’s accounts. He’ll have been able to find out tonnes of details about you with about five minutes of research. This psychic nonsense is all a sham, darling. He’s just preying on the desperate.’

I can’t deny I am desperate. And what if she’s right? The one thing I had to hold onto now feels so uncertain.

And even if it is genuine, I still can’t connect with James myself.

And even if I could see Mark every day, and communicate via him with James, would it really be the answer?

Even if he does love me now, things could still change.

Life moves on, so I’m guessing the afterlife does too.

What’s to stop him meeting someone new next month, or next year?

Someone he can actually be with. Would he really want to be in a strange state of limbo for decades?

It’s okay for me. I’m constantly reminded of him – there’s so much of him and his life still around me.

There is no way I’m ever going to stop thinking about him.

But James is in a brand new place with nothing to remind him of me.

He probably can’t even remember what I look like by now, it’s been so long since he went.

I know Carol says being surrounded by all his things is part of my problem. But if I did hide his things away, or even get rid of them, what would I replace them with? Surely all the empty spaces would also remind me of him, remind me of what’s not there – and who’s not there.

Do I ever wish I’d never met James? No. I can honestly say, and I’ve done a lot of soul-searching on this, that despite all the grief and heartache, I’m so, so glad that I met James and had those years with him.

And even if it meant all this sadness was taken away, I’d never choose not to have known him.

My life is still a thousand times better for having had him be a part of it for a while.

I just wish that he’d been in it for so much longer.

But the love went so deep. That’s why it’s so hard.

It’s like my love for him spread through every part of me, as if it seeped into my bones, and now it’s so ingrained it can never be separated from me.

Sometimes I feel this love, this grief – same thing, different day – is just too big for me.

It should have existed in a bigger person, a stronger person, someone who could handle it and not get overwhelmed by it.

What if this love is like some kind of emotional Bermuda Triangle, and eventually it will drown me or swallow me up and I’ll be lost inside it for ever?

I need to think of something different to do that could keep the sorrow at bay, but what?

Maybe I should put the house on the market, or hand my notice in at work – or both.

A bit radical perhaps. Especially as I have no idea where I would go or what I would do.

But how do I carry on living this kind of half-life, trying to be connected to James, with no idea what that really means?

Distractions used to help with the dark times, but they seem to be slower to work these days.

So now I just don’t know what to do. I feel so lost. The only certainty is that I want James.

But I have to face facts – he’s not an option that’s available to me.

He was for a while, but not any longer. It’s like I was taken to a Michelin-starred restaurant, the perfect dish was on the menu, but I’d only just begun to tuck into it when some over-zealous waiter snatched the plate away while I wasn’t looking, leaving me with nothing but a huge hunger and longing for the rest of what was on my plate – because what was on my plate was the best thing I’d ever tasted.

Talking of restaurants, I’m going to one tonight, very much against my better judgement.

I finally caved in to pressure from Becky, and agreed to meet up at a new Italian restaurant in town (non-Michelin-starred, I should add) for a meal with her, Adrian and Simon.

I know that might make it look like a date, and that’s exactly what Becky is angling to have happen, but it’s absolutely not, and I’ve made that very clear to Becky.

She’s offered to pick me up, so I can enjoy a few glasses of wine without worrying about driving. That’ll be her now.

‘Hey Amy, are you ready?’ she greets me as I open the front door.

I give Becky a quick hug.

‘I’ll just be one minute,’ I reply, and nip into the bathroom, where I stand still and take several deep breaths.

I look at my reflection in the mirror. Have I got too much make-up on?

I don’t want it to look like I’m overdoing it.

This little pale blue dress I’m wearing is an old favourite of mine, but even it doesn’t feel right – it’s a bit loose on me now.

I actually feel sick. Shall I go back out and tell Becky I don’t feel well?

Apologise, but say I can’t go? That’s what I want to do.

I just want to make my excuses and stay home for the night, alone.

But that’s really, really mean to Simon.

No, I’m just going to have to make the best of it. So, one more deep breath, and I go.

Becky is driving tonight. She and Adrian are trying for another baby, so she’s off the booze.

She’s convinced Simon to stay with them overnight so he can have a few drinks.

Becky’s good like that – she might be pushing me to go on a date, but she knows my limits and she knows there’s no way I’m ready to have him come back and stay at our…

my house tonight. So at least there’s no pressure there.

The restaurant looks lovely. It just opened a couple of months ago, and this is the first time I’ve been.

I love most types of cuisine, but Italian is definitely my favourite.

Simon holds the restaurant door open – he’s a real gentleman, just like James – and as we head inside my slight lingering nausea is quickly dispelled by the delicious smells of garlic, rosemary and freshly baked bread.

I realise how hungry I am. Skipping lunch won’t have helped.

But I was feeling so nervous about this.

The waiter shows us to a table in the window.

It’s like an elegant modern take on a traditional trattoria, with linen tablecloths, fresh flowers and candles.

Moments later a waitress brings over aperitifs for us.

‘You sure you don’t mind driving, Becky? You know we could just get a cab afterwards, so you can drink,’ I ask.

‘I’m fine. Honestly. Need to keep these eggs in tip-top condition.

’ Becky smiles, patting her abdomen and reaching out to put a hand on Adrian’s arm.

He returns her loving gaze, and I’m reminded again how good she and Adrian are together – and how lucky she is to have found love again.

I glance at Simon. He’s a good-looking guy, super-fit, of course, really well-liked and respected by everyone he works with, and he’s clever and kind too.

All in all, a real catch. Becky thinks I could find love with him, but to me it seems unimaginable.

But, of course, I’m over-thinking it, jumping ahead.

Like Becky said to me earlier, I just need to get through tonight, not worry about what comes next.

But what would James think of me? Going out on what looks like a date?

I’m just getting lost in worries about how this looks, the apparent hypocrisy of what I’m doing, when my thoughts are interrupted.

‘Would you like some of these?’ Simon pushes towards me the plate of antipasti the waitress has just set down on the table.

‘Mmm, those olives are fab,’ I say, passing the plate back.

He nods, now eating. Well, that’s a good sign, doesn’t talk with his mouth full. I should have known he’d be too well-mannered for that.

‘You’re certainly spoilt for choice when it comes to restaurants in Chipping Wotton. What’s your favourite type?’ he asks.

‘Italian, definitely. How about you?’

‘I love most food – Italian, French, Indian, but my favourite is Thai.’

‘Oh, like Ja—’ oops. Awkard. I’ve gone and mentioned him already. And now I can feel my cheeks burning. ‘Err, so do you cook? Or eat out? Thai food that is. I realise you must cook some things, but—’

‘I try.’ Simon kindly rescues me from my rambling. ‘I wouldn’t exactly say I’ve mastered the art of cooking Thai food yet. But I give it a go. Lemongrass and chilli are the secret weapons.’

‘Oh, I love lemongrass,’ says Becky. ‘I could just eat some right now.’

‘Lemongrass? On its own? Are you sure you’re not pregnant already?’ Adrian smiles at her.

Becky looks as if she’s not dismissing this possibility.

‘If only I had a test with me.’

‘You mean you don’t carry one with you everywhere you go?’ I tease. ‘You can tell you weren’t in the Boy Scouts. “Always be prepared”, as James used to—’ There, I’ve done it again. What is it with me? I’ll try changing the subject. ‘So, have you thought about baby names yet?’

‘Well, I know it’s too soon really, but possibly Cara or Amelia for a girl,’ replies Adrian.

‘Oh, I like the name Amelia,’ I reply.

Becky smiles. ‘Or Edward or possibly Charles if it’s a boy,’ she adds.

‘Oh, like James’ dad…’ Oh, not again. This is starting to feel like a scene out of Fawlty Towers.

And now I’m feeling so emotional. I can’t tell whether I need to laugh or cry.

Becky gives me a sympathetic smile across the table and suggests to Adrian that they go and check out the specials board over the other side of the restaurant.

Simon stays with me.

‘Amy, you know you’re allowed to mention his name.

We all loved James. We all miss him. No one expects you to forget about him or pretend he didn’t exist. I’m not trying to take his place in your heart.

Of course I’m not. No one could ever do that.

I’d just like to find out whether there might be another part of your heart that could learn to love again.

Maybe not yet, but in time. Because I really like you, more than like you.

You’re incredibly special, and James was a very lucky man. ’

I smile at him, but I know it’s probably a bit of a sad smile. My head is saying I should give this lovely man a try. Find it in myself to live and love again. But my heart is still in shut down mode. And I think the only person who could restart it is James.