Chapter 34
FRAN
‘What a trip,’ says Elsa, collapsing happily into her seat on the Eurostar.
‘One not to be forgotten,’ says Carly, who’s stowing her bag overhead.
‘It’s been a joy,’ says Marleen.
‘What about you, Mum? What’s your assessment?’
I cast furtive glances towards both ends of the carriage, trying to see if Alistair is on board, looking for me, since I hadn’t kept my promise to meet him after the talk.
‘It’s been illuminating,’ I say wryly.
Elsa, not quite understanding my tone, looks at me for clarity.
‘Alistair and I met up last night – just for a walk,’ I hasten to add, the news seemingly coming as no surprise. ‘He believes we’re “destined to be together”.’
‘Tish-tosh,’ says Marleen. She breathes deeply as if to remind me to do the same. ‘There’s no such thing as fate, only karma,’ she says. ‘You chose all those years ago to act in the loving interest of your mother. That was the correct choice in that moment. That action led to Robin.’
‘By that reasoning you could argue that choosing to come to Paris led to Mum meeting Alistair at Sacré Coeur,’ says Carly, clearly playing devil’s advocate.
‘But my decision to come to Paris wasn’t made in love,’ I say slowly, my mind becoming clearer as I think about the build-up to the trip.
‘I saw the copy of Notre-Dame arriving in the bookshop as serendipitous but, if I’m honest, I made the decision to go on the book train partly in anger and frustration at my husband, and partly in desperation over work.
I was fighting myself and everyone around me. I needed to get away.’
‘This is why it’s important to act mindfully and with compassion at all times,’ Marleen says. ‘Only then are our decisions the right ones. To know that there are only actions and consequences, that nothing controls our destiny – this is key.’
‘And it’s important to look at what is, not the what ifs,’ says Elsa. I can tell from the hazy look in her eye that she’s thinking of Bill.
I think of Alistair and how he’s clearly clung to the what ifs surrounding us for too long.
‘Let go of clinging to the past or desiring the future to be different,’ Marleen goes on, looking at Elsa proudly. ‘See your life as it is, not for what it was, what it might have been, or what it might be. Comparisons are never helpful.’
A lull falls over the four of us and I’m struck by the thought that perhaps subliminally I’ve been comparing Robin to Alistair, in my own way.
I wonder if he, like Alistair’s wife, has felt some form of rejection from me that’s been magnified not only by me burying my head in work but also, because of my mother, my lack of strong emotional connection to people generally.
Suddenly my mind is awash with Robin and all the selfless acts he’s carried out over the years: turning the gallery into the bookshop, decorating our entire flat above the shop, raising Carly in the bookshop while we both worked, converting my mother’s studio into an apartment for Carly, helping Elsa when Bill became ill, running himself into the ground.
Real acts of love: loyal, selfless, flawed.
I see with perfect clarity what a lucky escape I had in letting Alistair go, that I could never have built a life with someone so self-absorbed.
That building a life, a love, requires sacrifice and compromise, commitment and responsibility, things Robin has followed religiously, sometimes to the detriment of himself.
The actions of my very own romantic hero.
‘If this trip has taught me one thing, it’s that it’s time to let go of the past,’ I say, embarrassed for even considering how life might have been without Robin.
‘To let go and just be is the secret of life,’ says Marleen. ‘There is nothing else to know.’
‘Tell me I didn’t dream it,’ I say to Ginny after she’s made herself comfortable in the seat vacated by Carly, who has headed off with Elsa for a stroll to the on-board café.
‘You didn’t dream it,’ she says, reaching out and clasping my hands victoriously. ‘It’s my absolute privilege to have you as one of my authors; the world needs more voices like yours.’
‘But what if your team doesn’t agree?’
‘I’ve already spoken to them. Straight after your talk I joined the online acquisitions meeting.’
‘And?’
‘You’re a long-established author with a great readership that we can only build on – what was there to discuss? It was an emphatic yes from all.’
‘Even without a novel outline?’
‘I told them about the outline that you mentioned at the talk: a book that turns up in a bookshop, with bookmarks that take the heroine on a journey of self-discovery, from a flailing marriage in Edinburgh to a long-lost love in Paris, and the discovery of her true romantic hero.’
I smile, thrilled that I have the opportunity to write the story I love most in the world – the story of Robin and me.
‘We agreed on that and another two untitled projects, hopefully set in equally fabulous locations. Plus we’d love you to take on a piece of non-fiction too, if you’re interested.
I wondered about something like The Nomadic Writer, a book about a husband and wife who give up everything to travel, to be aimless for a while, to see what grows from the experience. ’
It takes me a moment to fully digest what Ginny is telling me and when I do, I’m still cautious that I’ve misunderstood. ‘Are you telling me you’d pay me to travel with my husband, and to write about the experience of working on the road?’
‘Yes, assuming your agent agrees to it,’ she smiles, the smile of a woman who knows she’s just made someone’s dream come true.
‘Oh Ginny, I’m lost for words,’ I say, a tingling spreading through my body, tears welling in my eyes, wishing I could make the same dream come true for her.
‘You deserve it, Fran,’ she says, her eyes full of conviction. ‘You really, really do.’
I wanted to call Robin straight after my chat with Ginny to tell him my news, but I couldn’t call from the Eurotunnel and then Carly and Elsa wanted to share in the excitement when the train returned to English soil.
It’s only now, alighting the train at St Pancras, that I have the chance to call him.
I’m digging around for my phone when I notice, standing underneath the huge neon pink I want my time with You sign, is Robin. He looks scruffy in his old brown corduroy jacket and his hair is a mop, but his face is as warm and familiar as the summer sun.
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask, throwing myself into his arms. He smells sweet as talc and feels as comfortable as warm slippers on a winter day.
‘I wanted to surprise you,’ he smiles, clearly delighted that he’s done just that, brushing the hair away from my face and beaming at me.
‘I love you,’ I say.
‘I love you more,’ he replies, planting a kiss on my lips.
‘Guess what!’ I say when we’ve found a quiet corner. I tell him all the details, including the part about us being able to head off travelling together.
‘You’re kidding?’ he asks, scanning my eyes, trying to figure out if I’m joking.
‘Not kidding, completely serious,’ I smile.
‘And this is what you want? To keep writing?’
I tell him I do, that at long last I’ve discovered the perfect love story – our story – and also a renewed purpose: to put a little bit of light and love out into the world.
‘And with the extra income we can plough some money into the house and business, maybe let Carly run the place while we’re away?’
‘I’m up for that, if you are?’ he asks.
‘I think it’s important, don’t you? To get away from the grind, to be aimless for a while, to see what grows from that? As Elsa says, “we’re human beings, not human doings”!’
‘I’d like nothing more.’
‘I’m sorry if I’ve put my work first, or if I’ve been less present than I should have been. I’ve had my defences up for too long.’
‘As have I,’ he says. ‘I made the mistake of longing for something else and failing to recognise what I have here and now – a beautiful wife, the incomparable joy of raising our daughter, and a love that is far richer now than it was then.’
‘We’ve made loving decisions at every stage together. Each of those decisions has evolved our love into something far greater than “being in love”.’
‘Yes, they have,’ he smiles.
It is then, gazing into Robin’s aging eyes, that it hits me fully that I have no reason to question whether I was destined to meet either Robin or Alistair, that fate played no part in our lives. What played a part was far stronger – love.