Chapter 11
‘We do not suffer by accident.’
We didn’t announce the proposal. Jamie wanted to wait until he’d seen his mum on his own. He flew out to Marbella. Feeling the need to be with him, I drove him all the way to Heathrow at the crack of dawn in Dad’s car.
We were unloading his suitcase from the boot at the drop-off zone when he turned to me, his face drawn, brow creased. ‘Wish you were coming too,’ he said.
‘So do I,’ I replied, trying to smile, though it felt brittle.
He hugged me tightly, his cologne lingering on my coat. ‘I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, Florrie. Then we’ll celebrate properly.’
For a moment he didn’t let go.
I stood on the kerb, watching him wheel his suitcase through the sliding doors, trying to suppress the knot of anxiety rising in my chest. He’d said that his mum wanted time with just him and Lily – so that meant no me. Why did it feel like something was shifting?
I drove home through the grey light of dawn, gripping the steering wheel as Radio One served up a relentless stream of mournful ballads. Every lyric felt unnervingly personal. By the third song, I was convinced the DJ was trying to soundtrack my thoughts.
The next morning a parcel arrived by courier. I opened it in my bedroom. A velvet box. For a second my heart lifted with idea that it might be a ring. The ring.
Inside was a gold locket. I unclasped it carefully. Two hand-cut cards nestled behind the glass: ‘My love’ on one side, ‘Forever’ on the other.
I decided to forgive him. For going without me. For not calling the day he arrived.
He called later that evening. We spoke for nearly an hour. Jamie’s voice was low and slow as if he were underwater. ‘You’re the best thing in my life, Florrie,’ he said.
But when I asked if he’d spoken to his mum yet, he paused.
‘Not yet,’ he snapped.
I recoiled from the receiver.
He sighed. ‘Sorry, sorry,’ he said quickly. ‘Didn’t mean to sound like that. There’s just… a lot going on here.’
We hung up.
I headed back to college on Tuesday afternoon. No one had fed the electricity meter. It was colder inside than out.
I switched on my electric blanket, decamped to the pub and left it on for five hours until bedtime.
I was in a deep, dreamless sleep when a knocking jolted me awake. Voices in the hallway. Then the door creaked open.
Dad stood there, his face pale, drawn tight. ‘Florence? God, I can’t believe you’re living like this. It’s a good job I didn’t bring your mother.’
I blinked in confusion. The orange streetlight cast long shadows across the room. ‘Dad? What are you doing here? Is everything all right?’
He sat on the edge of the bed, his weight shifting the mattress. ‘I’m sorry, Florence. I’ve got some bad news. It’s Jamie.’