Chapter 53.
Soon enough I am back at work, and life is rolling unimaginably on.
Most days, it still feels impossible, the certainty I will never see her again. During our lost decade, there was always the chance that we would be reunited one day. But it’s a different thing entirely to know I definitely won’t be at her wedding, or her mine. That we won’t ever meet each other’s babies. Or go out for coffee in our retirement to bitch about the price of milk. That our friendship won’t ever evolve. That it will be permanently frozen in time.
And Felix... He will move on, eventually. Of course he will: he’s only in his thirties. I know he’ll always love Lara, but one day, he will meet someone else. That’s just the way life goes.
So I do what I always do when I’m struggling to make sense of things: I throw myself into work, staying in the office until it’s ten at night and my head is pounding, my eyes stinging from staring at a screen. I get up before dawn each day and power-walk around the block, not wanting to be alone with my thoughts for too long. I start drinking soluble vitamins as a substitute for food.
But, as with all sticking plasters, this strategy eventually begins to weaken. I begin losing weight and the headaches are lingering. I know this way of coping isn’t actually coping at all.
I reconnect with my counsellor, Meena. I book a session, my first since Lara told me she was dying.
Meena asks how I’m dealing with it all.
‘Work. Work helps.’ I don’t mention the headaches.
‘How does it help?’
‘It takes my mind off everything. And... I clean.’
She nods neutrally. ‘You clean.’
‘I know that sounds a bit... you know. But I find it calming. And I like the distraction.’
‘What might happen if you weren’t distracted?’
‘I’d . . . fall apart.’
‘Why do you think you’d fall apart?’
‘Because I wouldn’t be able to... The pain would be too much.’ A sob rises in my throat, and I swallow it down.
‘Have you ever done that before?’
‘Done what?’
‘Experienced your feelings without any distractions. Focused on what you’re feeling, rather than jumping onto your laptop, or cleaning, or leaving the house?’
Why would anyone do that? ‘I don’t think so, no.’
‘You know, the benefit of really allowing yourself to feel all your emotions in the present is that you can begin to process them, rather than storing them up to dwell on, weeks, months, or maybe years down the line. There’s nothing wrong with healthy coping mechanisms – we all need them, in some form or another – but not if we use them to avoid our emotions altogether.’
Touché , I think.
‘You strike me as someone who ruminates a lot over the past – and the future, too. But Neve, when we spend all of our time looking backwards, or focusing relentlessly on where we’re going, we risk missing out on the life we’re living right now.’
‘I’ve stopped thinking about Jamie. And I’m not bitter any more. Despite everything that happened, I think it’s still possible to... appreciate him for who he helped me become.’
Meena looks thoughtful. ‘Who did Jamie help you become, do you think?’
‘Well, he encouraged me to pursue my career. He taught me a lot about ambition, and—’
I stop myself abruptly. I so nearly said love . Old habits die hard, I guess.
‘Lara was the one who suggested you might become an interior designer, wasn’t she?’
Hmm. This woman has a better memory than a teenager with a grudge.
‘And didn’t you say she encouraged you, too, not to make your whole life about Jamie? To think about work and being solvent and standing on your own two feet?’
I concede the point, and shortly afterwards, our session comes to a close.
As I leave, I think about what she’s said. I’d always been so certain it was Jamie who gave me the fire in my belly to really focus on my future. But now, as I make my way home through throngs of summer drinkers and football match-goers and couples strolling in the soft light of evening, I realise – perhaps for the first time – that all along, it was Lara. My wing woman. My sister.
It was Lara who proposed I work in interiors. Who pushed me to pursue it, to get work experience. Who reminded me there was more to life than what I had with Jamie. Who doggedly insisted I was my own, whole, person. Who taught me how to stand up for myself. Who showed me how to love, and how to be loyal, and that you can choose your family, if the one you were given isn’t up to the task. And that even if you have all the money in the world, time – and time spent well – is the only thing that truly matters, in the end.
It was Lara who encouraged me to live a life bigger than the one I had planned for myself.
When I get home, I stand in the kitchen for a few moments. Everything is shiny. Everything is clean. Everything is calm.
It takes a monumental effort, but I switch off the light and my phone, and go to sit down on the sofa. And then I allow myself to sob, really sob. Harder than I’ve ever sobbed before in my life. The kind of tears that get so out of control, you begin to wonder if they might never stop.
Two days later, Kelley calls me into her office.
‘How are you, Neve?’ she says briskly.
(The correct answer to this is only ever, Great, thank you, how are you? )
‘Great, thank you, how are you?’
‘Take a seat.’
I obey swiftly. My heart rate rockets. I can’t remember the last time Kelley encouraged anyone to make themselves comfortable in her office.
She gets straight to the point, telling me she’s been impressed with my recent work, in particular my contribution to the refurbishment of a Cotswolds hotel which has been widely picked up by the design and interiors press. That project was complex, and coronary-level stressful. But it’s been worth it now to know Kelley’s taken notice.
‘I’d like to offer you the role of head designer, Neve,’ she says, with characteristic detachment, as if we’re discussing the bin rota, or the merits of one electrician over another. ‘It will mean longer hours and more responsibility, of course. But I’m sure you’re up to the task.’ She shoots me a smile so short-lived I half wonder if it was some sort of spasm.
I exhale slowly, trying to prevent myself from shaking with joy and resolving not to think yet about the longer hours comment, because in my case, I’m not too sure they exist. But right now, none of that matters. I’ve done it. I’ve made it. This is everything I’ve been working towards for years.
‘Thank you. Thank you so much,’ I say, blinking at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling of Kelley’s office. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
‘No need for thanks. You deserve it,’ she says, so briskly I almost laugh, because only Kelley could promote a person with the same cool indifference as if she were issuing a P45.
Parveen and I head to the pub after work for a mini-celebration, where together we scrutinise every last detail of my promotion – our key agreed highlights being the pay rise, and getting to share Kelley’s assistant, and accompanying Kelley on a trip to Milan next month. Not to mention receiving my first ever company credit card. (We gloss over the extra pressure, and the stopping of more bucks with me. There’ll be plenty of time for me to flip out about all that further down the line.)
‘So, what’s next?’ Parveen asks me.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, what’s your next big life goal? You’ve got the promotion. Now what?’ She says this fondly, like she particularly loves my screwed-up way of thinking.
‘Actually, I’m going to bathe in the glory of this for a while.’
She looks sceptical. ‘I’ve never known you to bathe in the glory of anything.’
Considering the past couple of nights’ skipped housework, I sip my drink, a tiny toast to myself. ‘Well, this time, I think I’m genuinely ready to appreciate what I have right now. Or, I’m ready to try, at least.’
She laughs. ‘Yeah, okay. Until next week.’
I ask after Maz and the twins. She tells me she’s dreading the summer holidays, having to juggle childcare with Maz and her parents and her in-laws. ‘This is what they don’t tell you about having kids,’ she says darkly. ‘The logistics involved in trying to take time off with your own husband .’
‘But the twins,’ I say, with a smile, because Parveen’s love for her kids is nothing short of ferocious.
‘Hmm. Yeah, it would be easier if they weren’t quite so bloody adorable.’
I get another round in. As I set down her drink, she asks if there’s any news on the house.
Last week, my mother dropped a bombshell – and for once, it was the good kind. She told me she’d decided to move into what she calls Ralph’s ‘snazzy little apartment’ on the south side of Norwich. Then she casually asked if I fancied taking over the house.
She was packing at the time, in preparation for the move. I was biting my fist, watching her stuff hair pieces, outdoor shoes and a fish poacher into the same box.
‘What?’ I said, when she asked, thinking I might have misheard. I couldn’t even attribute it to her being tipsy, because miraculously, she was still sober – six whole months and counting.
‘Move in here. You’re always lecturing me about how much you love it.’
‘I could never afford to buy this place.’
‘Well, you could buy part of it and pay me rent on the rest, or something. I won’t be paying anything at Ralph’s, so...’
My tear ducts geared up. ‘Mum... are you serious?’
She shrugged, like it was no big deal. ‘Yes. This place always felt like a prison to me. Full of bad memories. You know I think he used to bring her back here sometimes, while I was out gigging?’
I nodded sadly, wondering if there would ever be a day when my mother might forget about Bev, the irony of which was not lost on me.
‘I can’t stand it,’ she continued. ‘I should have left years ago, moved on.’
‘Yeah.’ I smiled softly. ‘I know how you feel.’
‘Breathe some life back into it, darling. It’s what you’re good at, isn’t it?’
After she asked, I did have to think long and hard about swapping my place for hers. At first, the prospect sat awkwardly inside me, pressing painfully against some of my more vital organs. But eventually, I said yes. I knew in my heart that I wanted to. That here, now, was a chance for a new start, to do something brave.
Straight away, the decision felt good. It’s still scary, but good-scary. Every night since, I’ve sat cross-legged on my living room floor, surrounded by magazines, drawings, plans and mood boards, mapping out the restoration like I’m solving a crime. Which, I guess, in many ways I am.
Lara always loved Mum’s house. I have still-vivid memories of her sipping coffee next to the double-height windows in the kitchen, hair dappled with sunshine, watching the world go by outside. I’ve already planned a full shelf of slogan mugs in her honour.
‘We’re talking to the solicitor next week,’ I tell Parveen now.
She smiles. ‘Look at you, you’re buzzing. I never actually thought you’d leave your place.’
‘Mum’s house will be gorgeous too, eventually. I can’t wait for you to see it.’
‘So, I guess you do have another big project up your sleeve, then,’ she says, with a wink.
‘Yeah. But this time, I’m going to enjoy the process. Not obsess over the end result. I’m going to appreciate every day.’
Parveen laughs. ‘You sound like a fridge magnet.’ Then she pauses for a couple of moments before touching my arm. ‘Listen, I meant to tell you. I saw Ash while you were in California. We were on site quite a bit together at Millbrook.’
‘Oh.’ I try to keep the trepidation from my voice. ‘How is he? How’s his leg?’
She blinks at me a couple of times. ‘How’s his leg? Is that really what you want to know?’
A beat. ‘No, obviously.’
She draws a breath. ‘Look, rumour has it, he’s started dating someone. Lexie, from Tunstalls, apparently.’
‘Oh.’ I feel my heart peel apart in my chest. ‘Does he know you know?’
‘I guess so,’ she says sadly. ‘I mean, it doesn’t seem like it’s a secret.’
I nod slowly, trying to accept it, trying to feel happy for him. I did say, after all, that I would understand if he met someone else. All he’s done is take me at my word.
‘Do you think it’s serious?’ I ask Parveen.
‘I’m not sure.’ She tilts her head, her usually flawless forehead crumpled with frustration. ‘Why haven’t you been in touch with him?’
I get her confusion. It’s been six months.
But I needed that time. I had to get my head together. I owed it to myself – and to Ash. I was long overdue unjumbling the emotions inside me. Figuring out how I truly felt about Jamie and Lara and the whole last decade of my life.
‘I wasn’t ready,’ I say. ‘I wasn’t ready even before I met him, Parv. I treated him badly, and... he deserved better than that.’
‘Were you unfaithful?’ she asks, face braced like she’s praying I won’t say yes.
I shake my head. I still haven’t told her the full story. And maybe I never will, since all I want now is to bring that chapter of my life to a close. ‘No. But I wasn’t honest with him. And I didn’t always make him feel good about himself. And I needed to work through that, and if that means I’ve missed the boat with him, then... yes, that’s something I’ll always regret. But I’d rather regret doing the right thing than doing the wrong one.’
‘So, what now?’
‘I want to go and see him. But there’s a couple of other people I need to see first.’
‘I’m sorry,’ is the first thing I say to Ed and Juliet, once I’ve handed Juliet my huge apology bouquet and they’ve shown me, in vague bewilderment, into their living room.
‘Neve—’ Juliet begins.
‘No, I know. I know Ash is seeing someone else. And I get that he’d probably think it was weird, me just turning up on your doorstep like this. You do too, I’m sure. But I have to apologise to you for the way I behaved on your birthday. It was completely inappropriate, and for what it’s worth... I no longer believe those things. A lot has changed since then. I was so busy obsessing about the past that I failed to notice the amazing person who was standing right in front of me. Your son,’ I add quickly, for clarity.
They exchange a glance. ‘Well,’ Juliet says, ‘I do feel partly to blame. I did press you rather hard that night to tell me what was on your mind.’
‘It wasn’t your fault. I should have kept it to myself. I didn’t need to burden you with all that.’
‘Well, thank you, Neve. I do appreciate you coming here to say that.’
‘I just want you to know, I think the world of Ash. Truly.’
‘Oh, that much was already clear to us.’
‘We’ve actually been attending therapy as a family for a few months now,’ says Ed. ‘The four of us.’
‘Oh,’ I say, surprised and pleased. ‘That’s great.’
‘We’ve found it to be incredibly beneficial so far. We feel closer to Ash than we have in a long time.’
‘People act out of character when they’re grieving, don’t they?’ Juliet says to me sympathetically. ‘I once climbed into my mother’s wardrobe and sat inside it for three hours, just to be close to the smell of her clothes. Just sat there, and breathed her in. Ed thought I’d gone mad, didn’t you?’
‘Well, you had, a little bit,’ he says. ‘But grief is a kind of madness, isn’t it?’
I nod sadly. ‘I just wish I’d dealt with what happened at the time, and not tried to paper over the cracks for so long.’
‘Well,’ Ed says, ‘that’s life, at the end of the day. You have to function to survive. You don’t always have the time or the headspace or the money to do otherwise.’
‘You’re being very kind,’ I say. ‘I’m not sure Ash would think I deserve it.’
‘I think he would. He talks about you a lot, in therapy,’ Ed says.
My heart lifts. He does?
Juliet elbows him. ‘That’s supposed to be confidential.’
Ed raises his hands. ‘Fine, sorry, I know. But... well. It’s true.’
Juliet leans forward. ‘I’m sure Ash would love to see you, Neve.’
‘Is he...? I mean, I heard he’s seeing someone. And the last thing I want is to get in the way of anything. Genuinely.’
This I mean with my whole heart. If Ash is happy now with someone else, I know I have no right to re-enter his life and demand to be in it. I had my chance, and I messed it up. Sometimes, you simply don’t get a second shot.
Juliet evades the question by offering me tea, and then Ed changes the subject, asking me about work. Perhaps they don’t feel it’s their place to discuss it, which I understand.
I want so badly to know the truth about Ash’s life right now, but at the same time... I don’t. There’s a part of me that’s happy to remain ignorant for a while longer at least, to convince myself I might still be able to make things right.
It’s as I’m leaving that Juliet looks me in the eye and says, ‘Neve. I probably shouldn’t be saying this, because it’s really not my place to, but... all those qualities of your ex-boyfriend that you admired so much... the things you loved about him that you saw in Ash...’
‘Yes,’ I say, tentatively, because she doesn’t know, of course, who Jamie really was.
‘Well, maybe you fell in love with your ex so you could one day recognise him again in Ash. What I mean is, maybe it was meant to be Ash all along.’
My eyes fill with tears.
Maybe it was never meant to be Jamie .
The idea sprouts wings inside me.
‘Yes. Maybe. Maybe you’re right.’