Always With Love (22 page)

‘Well, if we don’t see you before, we’ll see you on our wedding day,’ Colin says, his friendly face grinning at the thought as he shakes Peter’s hand while simultaneously patting him on the shoulder.

‘Take care until then,’ Peter smiles. ‘Although maybe I’ll see you soon for a bit more footy, eh, mate?’ he adds, ruffling Aaron’s hair.

‘Yes please,’ he gushes in reply, his cheeks stretched into a wide grin. He’s clearly enjoyed someone being here to play with him. Even though he’s started going out and playing with his friends from time to time, there’s always something awe-inspiring from having that sort of interaction with adults when you’re a child – especially when they’re not your boring old parents.

‘See you later, little lady,’ Peter says to Charlotte, who smiles up at him in response.

‘I like you,’ she beams, throwing an arm around his waist.

‘You too, kid,’ he softly laughs, his eyes crinkling in delight at her affection. He gently pats her back as she lets go and plods backwards to take hold of Colin’s hand.

‘I won’t be long,’ I call, leading us out of the house and waving goodbye to the assembled troop watching us leave.

‘They’re great,’ Peter grins, once the door has finally been shut and we’re out of earshot. ‘What a rad family you have.’

‘Thank you,’ I smile.

‘I can see why it’s more than the shop keeping you here.’

His statement catches me off guard.

It’s true that having a lovely family to go home to every night certainly makes it harder to walk away from than our old fractured shell of a family. Although, even then, there was no way I could leave Mum in the black hole she was living in. Now though, I love walking through the door of an evening and seeing them all milling around doing ‘normal family activities’ like homework, having dinner or all curled up watching TV. It’s mildly depressing when Colin and the kids aren’t over, especially if Mum’s gone there for the night too. I don’t know how I’ll cope when I no longer have them to come home to, but knowing they’ll still be in the same village is better than having them thousands of miles away … I don’t think I could do what both Peter and Billy did.

‘Penny for your thoughts?’ Peter asks as we reach the park, which is routinely quiet for this time of year with just a few dog walkers in the distance, out in the crisp cold air.

‘That is most definitely something your mum would’ve said,’ I laugh, briefly grabbing hold of his elbow.

‘Oh no, am I turning into her?’ he gasps back with a smirk.

‘Lucky us if you are.’

‘Seriously, though, what’s on your mind?’ he pushes, glancing at me before looking down at his shoes on the pathway.

‘Just thinking that I love living here,’ I sigh, feeling rather dreamy about the matter. ‘That there’s nowhere else I’d rather be …’

‘That’s … that’s great,’ he grins, taking a breath.

Without warning, Peter takes his hands from his pockets. He stops walking, places one hand on mine to encourage me to do the same and then turns towards me, his free hand sliding through the hair behind my ear and to the back of my head. Before I can fathom what’s happening he leans down and places his cold lips on mine, his hand moving to the nape of my neck and firmly holding my head in place.

It’s horrible. Not the actual kiss, the kiss is fine, I guess, but the feeling it stirs within me is one of horror.

‘What are you doing?’ I ask, pushing him off me, my hands instantly flying to my mouth as though they’ve been bruised from the unwanted contact.

‘What? I …’ he stutters, a frown of confusion burying itself in his brow.

‘What? You what?’ I shriek, my body shaking at the invasion, my face turning bright red with embarrassment and shock.

‘You said there was nowhere else you’d rather be,’ he stammers.

‘Than Rosefont! I wasn’t talking about this specific moment. It wasn’t about you or us.’

‘Well, in that case you were very misleading,’ he says matter-of-factly, shaking his head.

‘How? At what point did I make you think I wanted that?’

‘You never made me think you didn’t.’

‘Are you serious? I have a boyfriend!’ I breathe, my bottom lip starting to quiver as I guiltily think of Billy and hating the fact that Peter has put us both in this situation.

‘Then what are you doing out with me?’

‘
Out
with you? My mum thought it would be nice to have you over for dinner so you weren’t on your own.’

‘I’m not a charity case,’ he objects, looking hurt.

‘I didn’t say you were,’ I frown. ‘You’re Molly’s son! You –’

‘Is that all you see me as?’ he asks quickly, looking wounded as he fires the question in my direction. ‘Some dead woman’s son?’

‘Of course not,’ I hesitate, surprised by the depth of emotions swirling between us when things had been so different just minutes before. ‘I like your company,’ I shrug, feebly.

‘Well, that’s nice to know,’ he laughs hollowly, taking his hand to his head and rubbing at his eyes, as though my honest and heartfelt words offer him zero comfort.

I stand and watch him. Having never been in a situation like this one before I’m stunned into silence. Part of me is reeling that he’s just taken it upon himself to act like that, but the other part is searching my brain and trying
to work out what’s going on. Have I been giving off mixed signals? I know I’ve enjoyed his attention, and even lapped it up without questioning it, but from what I’ve heard that’s just like every other woman in the village he’s taken the time to talk to. I haven’t seen him going around trying to kiss all of them, though …

‘I’m sorry. I feel like an absolute idiot,’ he says, his voice low and calmer as his eyes look down at me, his face contorted in discomfort.

‘It was a misunderstanding,’ I mumble, attempting to shake the matter off. He’s not the only one feeling foolish right now and I don’t really want to follow it up with an argument. I simply want to remove myself from the situation completely and go hide in my bedroom.

‘You don’t need to make excuses for me. I shouldn’t have done that,’ Peter says, shaking his head. ‘I had a great day with you and your family and then I went and acted like a dick.’

‘You didn’t …’ I start.

‘I know you think otherwise but are being too polite to tell me so,’ he continues, raising his eyebrows and challenging me to disagree.

I don’t. Instead I look down at my black boots and scrape one of the soles across the concrete path.

‘These things happen,’ I find myself saying.

‘Really? When? To who?’ he asks, thankfully questioning my ludicrous statement.

‘Well, so I’ve heard,’ I admit, looking back up at him. ‘Not to me, though. Never to me.’

‘No, me neither,’ he says, his blue eyes full of sorrow as he flicks his gaze to me before turning away again.

I take a lungful of air and slowly dispel it as I look around at the rest of the park, which, thankfully, seems just as deserted as it was before. I don’t believe Peter is some horrific predator out to catch me off guard and take advantage. I usually feel more than safe in his company and know he wouldn’t have acted in that way if he thought it was going to upset me. Another deep breath sees my shoulders relax and my pulsing heart calm down. Slowly the mixture of heightened emotions Peter caused to surge within me start to ebb away, making me feel less like a rabbit caught in headlights.

‘That was such a silly move.’

‘Tell me about it … can we just forget it even happened?’ he pleads. ‘I mean, I’ll stay away for a bit, obviously, but I don’t want things to be weird for us just because I turned into a gross lad for a few seconds. That’s not who I am.’

‘I know.’

‘Good … because you are every bit as great as Mum said and I’d hate to lose the last proper connection I have to her. That would break my heart,’ he says, stopping as his words choke him.

I clench my jaw to stop my own emotions getting the better of me. This isn’t a side of Peter I’m used to seeing. I’m the one who’s overly sentimental, not him.

He gives a slight cough to compose himself before rubbing at the stubble on his face. ‘Please don’t bar me from the shop.’

‘Can you do that with teashops?’ I ask, my voice almost a squeak as I try to lighten the mood and find myself wanting to cheer him up. ‘I thought that was just something the pub landlords always say in
EastEnders
.’

‘You can do what you like, you own it,’ he shrugs, a half smile forming on his lips.

‘Well I won’t ban you just yet,’ I say, managing to mirror the smile he’s giving me.

‘Thank you.’ There’s a slightly awkward pause. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Let’s not talk about it any more,’ I say. Not because he’s forgiven or because I don’t think he’s done anything wrong, but because I don’t want to stand around analysing it any further. It was a foolish mistake that meant nothing.

‘Deal,’ he says, pressing his lips tightly together, as though stopping himself from saying something further.

‘Right, well, I’d better be heading home,’ I say, my thumb pointing back the way we came.

‘Don’t you need to go to the shop?’ he asks, bemused.

‘I do, but –’

‘You don’t want to walk with me in case I try anything again?’ he frowns.

‘No, it’s not that,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘I think I’d rather go home now, though.’

‘Shit …’ he murmurs, looking exasperated at himself.

‘Honestly, I’m fine,’ I say, backing away from him.

‘Well … call me if you’re not,’ he shrugs.

‘Yeah, maybe …’ I reply, knowing I have no intention of doing so. ‘See you later, Peter,’ I say, turning and heading in the direction of home.

I don’t go straight there because I know Mum will suspect something is up if I return so quickly and I’m not ready to admit she was right to be worried about my blossoming friendship with another man …

Instead, when I know I’m out of Peter’s sight, I sit on a bench and just stare at my surroundings, hoping the beauty of nature will untie the knots that have formed in my stomach. I watch the tree branches blowing in the wind, spot squirrels and rabbits hopping about on the grass and listen to the silence around me, attempting to take some comfort from it and fill myself with calm.

Peter kissed me and I really wish he hadn’t because now I find myself questioning my own behaviour and my innocence in a situation I’d been rather enjoying. I liked having a friend. I even liked having the occasional flirt – something I never do but was able to because I felt so comfortable in Peter’s company.

I’m not in a love triangle.

I’m not.

I do not have romantic feelings for anyone other than Billy.

It’s true I have a lot of admiration for Peter and feel a deep connection to him – but that’s down to something completely out of his control. It’s in his DNA, and in the characteristics he’s unknowingly picked up from the woman who raised him. It’s because he shares a connection to this beautiful village in Kent that I have incredible affection for. These things might make me want to spend more time with him, but they don’t make me want us to be anything more than good friends.

Friends …

Having only had a handful of encounters with him, is it likely we’ll go through the difficulty of trying to remain in each other’s lives after this awkward episode? It would
be far easier to just avoid each other, even though I know I’ll feel like I’ve lost Molly for the second time …

No, I can’t do that. I’ve enjoyed feeling her presence too much. Surely it’s worth seeing if something is salvageable before throwing it away? Especially as it means so much! Besides, it’s only us who know about the indiscretion, so what harm can trying do?

Early
Sunday evenings seem to be the only time Billy and me are guaranteed to actually talk without fail. So as I walk into my room an hour later I’m not surprised to feel my phone vibrating in my pocket to let me know he’s calling.

Even though I’m spaced out from the way my afternoon has panned out, my heart tells me I need to hear his voice – we might have spoken the previous night but communication between us has been sparse to say the least. It’s been weeks since a letter has found its way to me, and it’s just dawned on me how much I’ve come to depend on the sight of his messy handwriting.

‘What have you been up to today?’ he asks, sounding full of beans as he fires a normal, mundane question in my direction. It’s lovely that he sounds so pleased to talk to me, but I suddenly feel put on the spot and on edge.

‘Nothing. Just a roast with everyone,’ I reply, sounding a little cagey as I omit to tell him that Peter joined us. It’s not lying, but it’s certainly withholding the truth and putting up a barrier between us. I just don’t want to be talking about Peter to Billy. I don’t want further questions being asked, because then I would have to lie and that would be terrible.

‘Nice …’ he replies, as though he’s unaware of my mood. ‘Can’t wait for one of those when I get back. Mum’s not attempted to cook another one since the last disaster.’

‘Right,’ I say shortly, realizing that I definitely shouldn’t
have picked up the phone when I saw him calling. It was most certainly a bad idea. He’s light and lovely while I’m the opposite. It’s as though I’m looking to build some friction between us. Perhaps it’s the guilt eating away at me but I can literally feel myself on the verge of throwing myself under a metaphorical bus.

‘So when are you coming out here?’

‘I’m not,’ I blurt, not even trying to break the news I’ve been putting off telling him all week in a sensitive way.

‘You … what?’ he asks, making sure he’s heard me correctly.

‘It’s the wedding. Mum’s changed her mind about some stuff and I need to be here for her,’ I say, matter-of-factly, unsure as to why I’m being so tactless.

‘So you’re dropping me just like that?’

‘I’m not dropping you,’ I scoff. ‘I never said I would
definitely
come. It was always dependent on what’s happening here.’

‘I know how protective you are over her, but you can’t stop your own life for your mum, Sophie,’ Billy mutters coldly, as though he’s suddenly annoyed at the bond Mum and I share – something he’s never even hinted at in the past. ‘You’ve done that before and for far too long.’

‘Excuse me?’ I demand, shocking myself at the authoritative bitterness in the tone of my voice that’s daring him to expand on that thought.

‘I just mean …’ he flounders, clearly looking for the words. ‘You have to live your own life, baby. You can’t pander to your mum all the time. She’s a grown-up and not the timid woman you always act like she is. Besides, she’s got Colin now. She’s moved on.’

‘Billy!’ I shout. I’m astounded at the words that are coming from his mouth, as though I’m a full-time carer for Mum or something. Or as though I treat her like an invalid. I mean, I know I worry, but she still worries about me too so what’s the difference? ‘Will you shut up?’

‘Pardon?’

‘You know nothing about the relationship between me and my mum,’ I hurl.

‘No, I didn’t mean …’ he starts, but I cut him off, not wanting to hear any more.

‘She’s my best friend and she’s weeks away from one of the biggest days of her life. So huge in fact that it affects me and my life directly,’ I say, feeling the fire in my chest and unable to stop myself from continuing. ‘Being with her
is
living my life. Flying to LA so I can potter around until you finish frolicking about on set pretending to be some ninja warrior, or whatever it is you’re doing over there, is not living my life in the slightest. In fact I’d say
that
would be wasting my time and taking me away from the arduous task of living my own life!’

And just like that I end the call, turn my phone off and seethe at the day’s events as any effort to stay calm is obliterated for good.

Who does Billy think he is telling me how to behave with my mum when I made sure not to say anything about his, even though she acted like a petulant child and I overheard her speak badly of me? If either of us needs to question the relationship we have with our mums to assess whether they’re healthy or not it’s certainly him and not me. My mum is nothing like the manipulative matriarch I witnessed in action in LA, and for that I’m bloody
thankful. At least my mum has good reasons for being the way she is – she’s not just a spoilt brat who pawns her son out so that she can continue living the lavish lifestyle that she doesn’t lift a finger for.

I’m fuming so much it’s a good job I got off the phone when I did. I know doing so was a childish thing to do, but if I’d stayed on the line a second longer I know I would have said something worse, something irretrievable. It’s much better that I removed myself from the conversation and allowed myself to mutter profanities at my bedroom walls for a few moments instead.

Anger is not an emotion I’m used to expressing – I’m definitely more of a lover than a fighter. But my sudden outburst feels so good after months of bottling up my worries and concerns.

It feels so cathartic to let loose and get some of the tension out, even if only my bedroom walls can hear it while I bang around noisily. Billy doesn’t need to hear everything on my mind – but some of those thoughts just need to be set free, because keeping them contained isn’t doing me any good.

I leave my phone off for the rest of the night and unplug the landline. Thankfully, before I came up here, Mum headed over to Colin’s with him and the kids to iron their school shirts for the following day so I don’t have to worry about explaining myself to anyone.

Knowing I’m completely unreachable feels good. It’s freeing somehow. And even though I know I’m going to have to face everything that’s going on maturely at some point, I allow myself to be reckless. Because that is not who I am and, right now, I like that feeling.