The Mighty Storm (51 page)

“
It
’
s fine. I mean, he
’
s dead, and I hadn
’
t seen him since … so, you know…”

“
I know,” I breathe. “
I
’
ll come to you now. I
’
m getting the next flight to LA.” I start to climb up out of bed.

“
No. It
’
s fine. I
’
m fine. I have to come to the UK, for his funeral.”

“
You
’
re going?”

“
He was my dad, Tru.” His tone is sharp.

“
I know. I
’
m sorry. I didn
’
t mean
–”

“
No, I
’
m sorry,” he backtracks. “My head
’
s just a little fucked up right now.” He sighs. “I just need you, Tru.”

“
I wish I was with you. I
’
m so sorry I
’
m not.” I chastise myself for this whole time apart thing.

“
When are you coming to the UK?” I ask.

“
I
’
ve chartered the jet for a midnight flight. I
’
ll be there early evening your time.”

“
Where is the funeral being held?”

I have no clue where Jake
’
s dad has been for the last seventeen years.

“
Manchester. In two days. I
’
m arranging it. There
’
s no one else to do it.”

“
Leave it to me. You don
’
t want to be doing it, baby.”

“
It
’
s okay, I mean Stuart
’
s helping
–“

“
I want to help.”

“
Okay … um … speak to Stuart see what he needs.
”

“
I will … so should I meet you in Manchester?”

“
No, I
’
m coming to London first. I need to see you … and the funeral's not
‘
til Friday … is it okay if I stay with you at your place? I just
–”

“
Jake, you don
’
t even have to ask, I want you here. And the funeral, do you want me to come with you?”

I don
’
t want to presume he
’
ll want me there. I don
’
t want to presume anything at the moment.

“
I can
’
t do it without you.”

“
Then I
’
m there. It
’
s you and me now, Jake. And what about your mum? Is she coming to the funeral?”

“
No.” His tone is curt.

It
’
s understandable why Susie wouldn
’
t want to go, but I thought she would to support Jake.

“
Okay,” I say, unsure what to say right now.

There’s a pause between us before Jake speaks again.

“
I need you, Tru.” I can hear his ragged breathing down the line.

“
I’m here. I
’
m always here for you.”

“
I know it
’
s late there, but will you stay on the phone with me?”

“
Of course I will. So what do you want to talk about?”

“
You and me. Our future. What we
’
re going to do together.”

“
You mean you want me to talk about that house we
’
re going to build on an island in the Maldives that belongs just to us, and we
’
re going to live off the land like a pair of castaways.”

“
I love you, Trudy Bennett.”

“
And
I love you, Jake Wethers.”

“
So tell me more about this island?”

And I do. I stay on the phone with Jake until the sun rises, and it
’
s time for him to catch his flight to London.

I shower, dress, force a little bit of breakfast down, and then head into work taking the Tube.

I’m tired. I
’
ve had little sleep, but I couldn
’
t sleep at the moment if I tried, I
’
m too worried about Jake.

Vicky beams brightly at me when I knock on her open door, then I watch as her face drops when she sees mine.

“
What
’
s the matter, my darling?” she asks worried, getting out of her chair, coming over to me.

“
Jake
’
s dad died.” My voice wobbles and I know I
’
m set to cry any minute now.

I
’
m not upset about Paul dying
–
not at all. I
’
m upset because Jake is.

I can feel his pain like it
’
s my own even though there
’
s an ocean between us.

He hurts. I hurt.

“
Oh, sweetness.” She puts her hands on my arms, looking searching into my face. “How is Jake doing?”

I shrug. “He hadn
’
t seen his dad in a long time. They had a ... difficult relationship … but honestly, I think it
’
s hit him pretty hard.”

“
Come, let
’
s sit.” She guides me over to the little sofa in her office.

“
I
’
m really sorry to do this to you again, Vicky … but I need to take some time off to be with Jake. He
’
s flying in today, and the funeral is in Manchester on Friday. Of course I
’
ll work from home, and I
’
ll catch up on whatever I miss before I go to the US for the rest of the tour.”

“
It
’
s fine, Tru.” She takes my hand patting it with her other. “Everything is in hand here with your column. The important thing at the moment is Jake, and making sure he’s okay. We can worry about the bio and everything else later.”

I feel the weight lift off my shoulders.

“
Have I told you lately how wonderful you are?” I can feel tears forming in my eyes.

“
It
’
s been a while.” She winks at me.

“
Well you are, and I love you lots and lots.” I wrap my arms around her, hugging her.

Then the tears start to run from my eyes.

How am I going to cope without her and Simone when I move to LA? And my Mum and Dad for that matter?

I can
’
t even tell Vicky about the move at the moment. I will soon, but dropping this on her is enough for now, I think.

“
Oh, my darling girl, don
’
t cry,” she says hearing my sniffling, she hugs me tighter.

Thank god I wore waterproof mascara today. Subconsciously, I must have known I would be crying a lot today.

Releasing myself, I get a tissue from my bag, and dry my eyes.

“
Sorry,” I mumble.

“
Don
’
t be sorry. You
’
ve had an emotional time of late, a lot of changes in your life. I
’
d be worried if you weren
’
t crying. Now, do you want something to drink?” she asks, getting to her feet, moving toward her desk.

“
Coffee?”

“
I was thinking something a little stronger.” Her tone is conspiratorial. Then she pulls a bottle of Jim Beam from out of her desk drawer.

“
Perfect,” I say, a little smile forming on my lips, as Vicky grabs two cups off her shelf.

I leave work a little over an hour later, having spent that time in Vicky
’
s office talking and drinking whiskey.

I feel a little lighter after the chat, and a lot lighter after the whiskey, and now I
’
m more than ready to see Jake.

Eight hours to go.

As I push out of the glass doors of my building, the cool air hits my skin, and the lightness, kindly provided by Jim Beam, unfortunately, starts to lift.

Taking a right, I turn to head toward the Tube station for home.

“
Tru?”

Pausing, I turn around to see Will standing about twenty yards away from me.

He
’
s dressed in blue jeans, a plain white T-shirt, and a black leather jacket. He looks like he hasn
’
t shaved in a while, and I can see the bruising left from his fight with Jake around his eye. I hate that they fought because of me.

He looks different, but still handsome. Just Will. The Will I loved
–
love.

I feel a sudden pang for him. The intensity of it surprises me.

“
Will? What-what are you doing here?
”
I try to recover myself from the shock of just seeing him here in the street.

“
Sorry I just
–”
he takes a step forward.

“
Have you followed me?” I ask.

That sounded really conceited. I wish I could take it back.

“
No,” he answers softly. “I’d just popped into work to drop something off, and I saw you go into your building. I just … I wanted to talk to you, so I hung around and waited.” He pushes his hands deep in his pockets. “I called you … left messages but you never called me back.”

“
I
’
m sorry.” I hug my bag to my side. “I just didn
’
t think it was a good idea to talk then, you were angry … rightly so and I didn
’
t want to make things worse for you.”

“
How are you?” He takes another step closer.

“
I
’
m okay.” I tuck my hair nervously behind my ear. “How are you?”

“
Oh, you know.” He shrugs, and runs his hand through his lovely blonde hair. It looks all mussed up. Very un-Will. It suits him.

His eyes meet with mine.

He looks nervous and sad. My heart is aching seeing him here standing before me looking this way.

This is what I
’
ve done to him.

“
Do you have time to have a coffee?” he asks.

“
Um…”

“
I mean if you too busy, I understand.”

“
I
’
m not too busy. Of course I
’
ll have coffee with you.” I smile.

He smiles too. It
’
s nice to see. I
’
ve missed his lovely smile.

I
’
ve missed him. I just didn
’
t realise how much until now.

“
Shall we go to Callo
’
s?” he asks.

“
Yes, lets.”

We walk side by side in relative silence for the five minute walk to Callo
’
s.

When we arrive, Will holds the door open for me. I walk into the café, the aroma of coffee hitting me straight away, and memories, so many memories.

This was our place. We always had lunch together here.

It
’
s sad being here with him now, like this, apart. I guess I never thought there would be a day that I would ever be without Will.

As it
’
s early Callo
’
s is empty, only Will and I here, so we get a small table by the window and order two lattes.

“
Are you not in work today?” I ask, at a vain attempt in small talk, while we wait for our drinks.

“
No,” he shakes his head. “I took a little time off after I got back from Paris
–
you know.”

I bite my lip. I can feel tears forming in my eyes, but I don
’
t want to cry in front of him. I don
’
t deserve the right to cry.

I knot my fingers on the table in front of me. Taking a deep breath, I say, “I
’
m so sorry, Will. For everything. For the pain I
’
ve caused you”

He meets my eyes, and all I can see in them is hurt. And I can
’
t help the tear that escapes from my eye.

I quickly catch it falling.

“
Tru, that day … when I pushed you away in the hall and you fell … I didn
’
t hurt you did I?” He sounds tormented.

After everything I have done to him, and he still cares whether he hurt me or not.

It makes my heart hurt more.