Chapter 18
From: Aaron
To: Eve
Subject: The Great Pig Scandal of St Claire
Morning, love.
You left and all hell broke loose.
Layla came back yesterday and within five minutes spotted Bernard with her pink pig. Naturally, the second she saw it in his bed, it became her favourite toy again, even if she hadn’t played with it for a year.
Negotiations were tense. Bernard refused to surrender his soulmate. Layla refused to be outwitted by a beagle. There was barking, a fair bit of sulking, and one attempted pig heist that ended with both of them in time-out.
In the end, Abby and Jon had to step in.
Layla was bribed with a muffin. Bernard got a dog biscuit and a victory lap around the kitchen.
Official ruling: the pig stays with him.
It’s now been declared his emotional support plush, and I’ve been told to stop referring to it as ‘the affair of the century.’
Back in London now, and it’s much too quiet. No clattering in the kitchen, no half-whispered muttering from the next room when you think no one can hear you. I didn’t realise how quickly a few days could start to feel like home until I came back here without you.
So, how about I come up to Norfolk next weekend? I can bring the sandwiches, and you can tell me I’ve created another masterpiece. Seems like a fair deal.
I miss you, Eve. More than I probably should already.
Aaron
From: Eve
To: Aaron
Date: 25 March
Subject: Re: The Great Pig Scandal of St Claire
Hi, you.
I can’t believe you’ve already turned Bernard and Layla into a diplomatic incident. I hope Jon and Abby realise they’re running an international crisis centre, not a B&B. I’m pleased to hear Bernard won the case, though. The emotional support pig is clearly vital to his wellbeing.
It sounds like everything’s back to its usual chaos, which makes me oddly homesick for a place that isn’t mine.
About next weekend… I’d love to say yes, but work’s a bit mad at the moment. I’ve got a case review coming up and a pile of reports that won’t write themselves. Maybe once things calm down a little?
Promise I’m not trying to wriggle out of seeing you—I just need to get through the next few weeks without losing my mind (or my job).
E x
From: Aaron
To: Eve
Date: 25 March
Subject: Re: The Great Pig Scandal of St Claire
Evening, love.
You’d better not be trying to wriggle out of seeing me, because now I’ve had a taste of you, I can’t possibly go without.
And yes, I’m fairly sure that made you blush. I can picture it right now, that faint pink creeping up your neck when you try to pretend you’re not flustered. For the record, I miss that too.
If not this weekend, it will have to wait a bit.
One of our consultants has dropped out at the last minute, so I’m stepping in to cover a trip to Syria with one of our clients.
It’s a short-term project, mostly assessments and coordination meetings, but we’ll be moving around quite a bit.
I can’t ask Will to take it. He promised Katie he wouldn’t travel anymore, and I’m not about to make him break that.
I’ll be away for a few weeks, so it looks like April before I can see you again. Not exactly what I had in mind, but it gives you fair warning to brace yourself. I’ll be making up for lost time when I get back.
I should have internet access most days, at least when the connection behaves, so keep writing. Even the short emails. Especially the short ones. You have no idea how much I like seeing your name in my inbox.
I’ll send updates when I can. It’s not exactly glamourous work, but at least it will keep me out of trouble for a while.
Stay safe, love. And try not to overthink everything. I’ll be back before you know it.
Aaron
From: Eve
To: Aaron
Date: 6 April
Subject: Family survival report
Hi, you.
Firstly, I forgot to tell you when we spoke on the phone last weekend that I actually enjoyed it. Maybe you are the cure to my phone phobia.
Now to the most important update: I survived Mum’s seventieth. Barely.
It started with a brunch that turned into lunch that somehow turned into ‘just a few drinks’ and a karaoke machine. I spent most of the day pretending to help in the kitchen, so I didn’t have to make small talk with people who last saw me when I still had braces.
Mum was in her element though. She spent a good hour introducing me to distant relatives I didn’t recognise and then loudly reminding everyone that I’m still single, but working very hard.’ I considered climbing out of the bathroom window at one point.
My sister and her kids were there too, which meant constant noise, cake, and slime in places slime should never be. At least Mum was happy, and there was enough prosecco to blur the edges.
I finally hid in the conservatory with a slice of cake and texted Jennifer to tell her that if she ever plans another family event, I’m emigrating.
Anyway, that was my exciting weekend.
I keep thinking about Yorkshire. Sometimes it feels like it was all a dream—the cottage, the quiet, you. Maybe that’s what it should stay. Something perfect that happened once.
And yet… I miss you. More than I want to admit.
E x
From: Aaron
To: Eve
Date: 7 April
Subject: Re: Family survival report
Evening, love.
We’re in Derek now and the internet’s even worse than last time. Half the team’s been arguing with the router like it’s a living thing. If this message actually gets through, I’ll take it as a small miracle.
I read your email. And before you start convincing yourself that what we had in Yorkshire was just a dream, stop.
It was real, Eve. Every second of it. And it doesn’t stop being real just because we’re in different places.
You’re it for me. No distance, no bad Wi-Fi, no anxious overthinking is going to change that.
Hold on to that until I’m back. And maybe tell your mum you are not a single anymore.
A x
From: Eve
To: Aaron
Date: 9 April
Subject: Pokhara, apparently
Hi, you.
Your message came through, miracle achieved. I pictured you all glaring at a blinking router in perfect silence, as if intimidation might improve the signal. It made me laugh, which I needed.
I fell down another Nepal rabbit hole last night.
There was a short documentary about Pokhara.
A lake, snow-capped mountains, prayer flags that look like they are breathing, a small boat gliding over the water.
I could almost hear the water against the oars.
The narrator kept talking about how everyone uses it as a jumping-off point for big treks, but all I could think was that I would be quite happy just sitting by the lake and watching the hills change colour.
It seems like the perfect spot to relax and listen to nature.
Your last email made me swoon. I was not aware women in their forties still did that.
But apparently, we do. You should be warned that I had to sit down on the kitchen floor with a cup of tea until my face stopped being ridiculous.
If your goal was to stop me overthinking, you succeeded for at least twenty minutes. That is a record.
Work here is still the usual circus. My boss has discovered bullet points and now everything must be a list. I spent an hour editing a paragraph into something that reads like a shopping receipt.
Please be careful. Drink water. Sleep when you can. Send two words if that is all the internet allows. I will keep writing, even if it is only to tell you what I had for dinner and what other ridiculous ideas my boss comes up with.
When you are back, we should talk about dates. Norfolk is ready for you, even if it is only for a weekend. And one day, when the world is sensible, maybe Pokhara. I will sit by the lake and you can tell me all your mountaineering stories again.
Stay safe, please.
E x
From: Eve
To: Aaron
Date: 14 April
Subject: Temporary escape report
Hi, you.
I did something a bit impulsive. On Friday evening I packed a bag, bought a ticket and took the train to St Claire. I wasn’t entirely sure what came over me. One minute I was staring at the same four walls and the next I was halfway to Yorkshire with a sandwich and mild panic for company.
It was worth it though. The second I got there, everything felt different. Familiar. Yours. Ours, maybe. I walked past the pub and the village green and it felt like being a little closer to you.
I even managed to be social, which I think deserves a medal.
On Saturday I joined the Ramblers for one of their walks.
I spent most of it near the back with Mrs Higgins and Bernard, who is very well and still has his pig.
Apparently, he won’t go anywhere without it anymore so Mrs Higgins ties it to his harness with a bit of string so he can bring it along.
He looked absurdly pleased with himself. You’d have been proud.
I stayed at Morton Hall, had tea at the pub (outside, of course), talked to three whole people I’d never met before, and didn’t spontaneously combust once. Progress.
I assume you haven’t had internet, since I haven’t heard from you. According to that agenda you sent, you should be crossing back into Iraq tomorrow, which hopefully means a better connection when you get to Erbil.
And now I sound like someone tracking your movements, which is ridiculous. Honestly, I don’t know why I’m making such a fuss. It’s only been a couple of weeks.
Still, it was nice to be back, even if you weren’t there.
E x
From: Eve
To: Aaron
Date: 17 April
Subject: Just checking in
Hi, you.
You should be on your way home by now, or at least somewhere with signal. I know these things never run exactly to plan, but it’s been a few days and I haven’t heard from you.
Can you just drop me a line when you can? Even one word would do. I just want to know you’re all right.
E x