Chapter 33
T he waves crashing was the first sound he noticed upon waking; the cracks of light through the ajar door the second and finally, the gap in the bed next to him. This was the thing that made him sit bolt upright and run his hands vigorously across his face in an attempt to wake himself up.
The previous night had been incredible. Something he’d envisioned and dreamed about for so long had come true and it still felt like it surely wasn’t possible. Of course, he’d wanted to join her in bed from the moment she got in last night but there was absolutely no way he’d suggest it – she was so vulnerable, and it would’ve been wholly inappropriate to even suggest it. When he’d heard her scream, he’d only intended to go in to comfort her and then leave straight away, retreating to the sofa and his makeshift bed, there if and when she needed him again. So, to leave the sofa and not return – that had never been on the agenda. But it had been her who had instigated everything, had suggested and started it. Sure, he hadn’t taken much persuasion, but he truly felt like she’d wanted to and that had made it easier to agree.
All of these thoughts further spurred the confusion as to why the bed next to him was empty. She must be up and about already. He glanced at the clock on the wall – nine thirty. Jeez, he never slept in this late. Swinging his legs out of bed and pulling back on his bottoms, he squinted as he made his way into the living area, the huge picture window revealing another overcast day. He had expected to smell coffee, hear the TV mumbling or at least see Millie sat cross legged on the sofa, large mug in hand and admiring the view. He would join her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and bending his head into her neck, taking in her scent.
But there was no coffee, the TV was still off, and the sofa was empty. Where was she? She must have gone home. Glancing around the apartment, he tried not to let his thoughts run away with him when his eyes settled on a piece of paper resting on the kitchen countertop. Heart beating loudly in his ears, he made his way across the room and picked up the note carefully.
Alfie. You are one of the most special people I have ever known. What we shared last night is something I will never forget. I’ve realised I need to stop living in my past and move forwards into my future. Thank you for helping me realise that. With all my love, Millie x
He read and re-read the note in pure disbelief and shock. Was it saying what he thought it was? Was this a goodbye note? He dropped the piece of paper to the floor and paced back and forth. Surely, she wouldn’t just leave without saying goodbye. And had she just left to go home? Or left, LEFT? He had to find out what was going on. Within thirty seconds, he had pulled on a jumper, descended the stairs to the street and dialled his phone, all at the same time.
* * *
There had been several times in her life when Millie had been certain she’d made the right decision: when she’d dropped out of her psychology degree to pursue her art full time (so she’d ended up having to pick up an office job, she still never regretted it for a second); when she and Jenny snuck out of their houses at the age of fifteen and caught the train into London to watch Bloc Party (they were grounded for three months but again, never regretted it since). Even moving down to Cornwall – though it was hugely scary – had made so much sense to her once she’d jumped in the car and started driving. But right now, as she watched the “Welcome to Sandyhaven” sign disappear in her rear-view mirror, she wasn’t sure in any way if it was the right decision.
The night before had been incredible. Ever since she had learned of her infertility, she had found intimacy incredibly difficult with Sam and his persistence and lack of understanding had further fuelled that. It had reached a point where she’d wondered if she would ever feel comfortable in a situation like that ever again. Last night had felt so wonderfully natural, like it was truly supposed to happen, and she didn’t even have to think about it. In the hours following, snuggled in the warmth of Alfie’s bed, listening to the rise and fall of his breath she’d dared to dream that this is what it could be like. That this could be her life moving forwards. But somewhere in the hours following that, her mind had started to spiral. She’d found herself having flashbacks to the early days with Sam, where they’d spend entire Sundays in bed, soaking in their own body heat, watching re-runs of Frasier and endlessly snacking. The simplicity of the time had gradually become overshadowed by the development of Sam’s narcissistic, egotistical ways and it had been difficult to admit that was happening at the time because she had become so sucked in; the relationship with her mum had broken down, she had very few friends and Sam had become a central force in her life, driving her forwards. At the time, she thought she’d been in love, but it had taken that one night with Alfie to make her realise she hadn’t been in love at all, not truly. She had been in love with the idea of being in love with Sam, but in reality, it was a matter of a convenient time and place and then something she just fell into. And then didn’t know how to get out of.
She was sure that this feeling with Alfie was already different to what she’d felt with Sam – it was indescribable to anyone else, yet made so much sense in her own head. But how could she fall in love with someone when she couldn’t offer them a future? Sure, Alfie may not want children right now, but he was bound to in the future – there was no way she wanted to be responsible for altering someone’s life like that. The only way her jumbled mind had managed to deal with those thoughts this morning was to run – run away and not return. It would be much easier and kinder on both their hearts in the long run than having a drawn out, emotional conversation. Alfie would move on. He’d find someone else.
She realised now, having left the cottage only ten minutes ago that she hadn’t truly thought it all through; she’d packed a small case but hadn’t arranged any of her other possessions. She hadn’t even told Alan she was leaving the cottage (that would be an awkward conversation, considering he was Alfie’s dad). She hadn’t mentioned anything to Amy, or the rest of the gang and she felt stabs of guilt at that – they had truly welcomed her into the fold since she’d arrived almost four months ago, and they’d been the tightest group of friends she’d had since school. She hadn’t even mentioned it to Jenny because she knew she’d just get a lecture, or disapproving words and she couldn’t deal with that this morning. Her immediate plan was to head back to London, hole up somewhere and decide what on Earth she was doing with her life.
Yes, she was just going to drive, away from Cornwall, and think about how all the loose ends were going to be tied up later. Distance was what she needed right now.
* * *
Damn. Voicemail again. He’d only left one message on Millie’s answerphone, figuring that leaving multiples ones wasn’t going to get her to listen any sooner. He knocked again at the door but there was no answer. He thought about the spare key to Rosemary Cottage hanging on the hook at home (he had it in case his dad needed him to get in due to an emergency or something. Like the other day with Sam – what a mistake that had been letting him in…) Should he grab it and let himself in? He wasn’t sure he could bring himself to do it. If she was in, she would’ve answered. There was no sign of movement at the windows. She must have gone. The note she left insinuated she wasn’t sticking around.
He pressed her name on the screen again and held the phone to his ear whilst looking agitatedly up and down the lane, as though expecting her to just materialise. Still voicemail. He groaned in frustration and squatted down, unable to hold himself up anymore. He hadn’t dared to believe she had just done a runner, up until now. As each moment passed, things were becoming more and more bleak. The question he just kept asking himself was, why?
Realising he needed to change tack, he swiped back to the top of his call list and pressed the name of one of his oldest friends. If anyone could find out the truth behind something, it would be her. It rang only twice before she picked up.
“Amy? I need your help.”