Chapter 11
Now
Those are the words that grab my attention in the subject line of my emails. It’s an email I’ve been refreshing my inbox for weeks waiting for. It’s an email that’s kept me up at night just thinking about. An email that I can’t now bring myself to open.
What if I’ve been rejected? Milan and fashion were my only plans, the only thing I’ve ever been sure on.
I have no back up plan, I have no alternative options.
Yes, I’ve technically applied to several other unis, but what is the point if it’s not Milan?
A degree in Fashion Design from Nottingham Trent hardly has the same ring to it.
And if I get rejected, it won’t only be me I’ve let down – what about Granny?
It’s all because of her that I know how to sew, all because of her that I can express myself through fabric and garments, all because of her that I had any sort of confidence to chase my dreams. If I fall at the first hurdle, all of Granny’s lessons would be all for nothing. I can’t let that happen.
But what if I’ve been accepted? Three years in Milan …
alone. Could I handle it? Could I leave Callum behind?
Or Mum? Or Dad? Or Grandad? My adventures have only ever been fantasy, made up dreams of woodland escapades or transatlantic voyages.
The truth is, all of those quests that Jacob and I filled our heads with for a decade were never real.
We never ran off into the forest to live like wolves, or escaped any further than the edge of this village.
Our adventures always ended before it got dark, and we were always home for tea.
What if I’m not as brave as I thought I was?
I don’t know how long I’ve been staring at the screen of my laptop, but my eyes grow tired from the strain, and I still can’t will my finger to click on it.
In times like these, it would be Granny I’d run to.
She’d know what to say. At least, after I explained what an email was, she would.
If I was scared, Granny always knew what to say.
Like one half term when we came up and I forgot my nightlight at home.
Granny stayed up with me, telling me stories of good monsters and kind ghosts, until I fell asleep. From that day on, I loved the dark.
The sound of footsteps outside of my bedroom door finally forces me to break eye contact with my computer screen.
I can tell from the long, rushed strides that they’re Mum’s.
She never does anything slowly. Everything she does, she’s in a hurry, whether that’s work or the laundry or even on her runs.
She always goes so quickly that it’s a wonder she hasn’t run out of steam yet.
Maybe being here will make her finally slow down and smell the flowers, as Granny used to say.
Tucking my laptop under my arm, I drag open the bedroom door and follow the direction of her footsteps.
I don’t want to do this alone. I need someone to tell me that no matter what, it will be okay, and I need my mum, now more than ever.
She’s in her own room at the end of the hall, the door left ajar, but as I lift my hand to knock, her voice floats through the open crack.
‘I just want it sold. I’m not bothered about maximising the profit or anything like that, just get it on the market.
’ I hold my breath as I listen to her speak.
When Mum’s on the phone, it’s usually work related and nothing that interests me, but for some reason, I can’t pull myself away from this conversation.
‘It’s a family three-bed. I’m sure it won’t take long to sell, right? ’
My heart drops so far and so quickly that I’m surprised it’s not in a puddle at my feet.
This isn’t some stupid finance contract or some work-related thing she’s being forced to do.
No, this is my childhood home. The place Callum and I first learned to walk, to talk, and everything else.
That place is packed with eighteen years of memories, of messy breakfasts, and movie nights, of falling into bed after long days, and knowing that I’m safe within those walls.
How can she talk about it like it’s nothing?
I try and regulate myself, pacing up and down the hallway until my hands shake so hard that I barely have control when I shove open her door. ‘So, that’s it then?’
Mum looks up from her lap, wide-eyed before murmuring quickly into her receiver, ‘Sorry, I’ll call you back.’ She tosses her phone onto the bed. It bounces off and clatters loudly to the floor. ‘Why are you listening outside my door, Ava?’
‘Why are you giving up on everything?’ The tears are so thick in my eyes that I can’t see her, but I hear her sigh loud and clear. ‘Why does none of this matter to you?’
‘Of course, it matters. And I’m certainly not giving up. I am trying my best, Ava, for you and your brother.’
‘And moving us hundreds of miles away, and tearing our family apart is what’s best for us, is it?’ A tear slips over my waterline and Mum picks at the corners of her nails. ‘Is that all our family means to you now? You just want all of our memories gone?’
‘You’ve only heard half a conversation. This is why I’ve always told you that eavesdropping gets you hurt. I thought you were happy here? You always begged me to come back to the farm when you were younger.’
‘Yeah, well, everything has changed, hasn’t it?
And you’d know whether I was happy or not if you actually asked my opinion on anything instead of just treating me like a kid and deciding my whole life for me.
’ My knees tremble under my weight but I still manage to dodge mum’s arm as she walks towards me with it outstretched for an embrace.
‘You’re angry, I know that.’ Her brave face is slipping. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Did you ever even love Dad?’
She’s silent for a second, only the sound of my stifled sobs fill the room. ‘That’s not fair, Ava.’
That’s all I need to hear. Mum doesn’t chase me as I flee down the stairs and make for the door.
‘Ava?’ Callum catches me as he sits over his homework on the kitchen table, but I ignore him too.
I can’t face the treehouse, everyone knows that’s where I go to disappear, and the thought of running into Jacob at this very moment only forces me to walk faster still towards the one place they’ll never look: the orchard.
Though it’s still only the afternoon, the sky is dark. The clouds are so thick and full that the sun doesn’t have a single gap to peek through. The rain is coming, that’s obvious, but even a hurricane can’t compare to the storm inside me I can’t escape.