The One We Fell in Love With (28 page)

He leans forwards, resting his elbows on his knees.

‘Can I meet your mum before I go?’ I ask tentatively.

He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. ‘What’s the point?’

‘I will come back eventually, you know,’ I say gently. ‘And we can keep in touch, right? We can still be friends?’

He turns and stares at me directly. As the seconds tick by and he doesn’t speak, butterflies take over my stomach.

He shouldn’t be looking at me like this. I’m too old for him.

‘Toby?’ I ask warily. ‘Friends?’

He abruptly averts his gaze and gets to his feet. ‘Yeah, of course,’ he says.

I’m still avoiding Angus so I stay on at
Jennifer’s
again that night and Gavin and I cross paths once more.

‘Working late?’ he asks with surprise as I wash my hands at the bakery sink.

‘I wanted to finish off the outdoor space before the weekend. It’s done now,’ I add.

‘Let’s have a look, then.’

I lead the way outside and he stands and stares at the sight before him. As well as the wall, I’ve painted some of the old crates that I used to carry the pot plants. They’re now a
dark blue and lined with heavy-duty black polythene, acting as higgledy-piggledy plant boxes. I’ve taken out a few of the paving stones along the back wall to create a small garden bed and
filled the space with sizzling orangey-red crocosmias, burnt-orange helianthemums and flaming red dahlias. The exotic colours seem to smoulder in the late afternoon sun and are set off beautifully
against the painted wall. I’ve filled the planter box with aromatic herbs like sage, rosemary, thyme and mint. The duck-egg blue outdoor furniture from home complements the colour scheme.

‘Just gorgeous, Rose,’ Gavin says, shaking his head with amazement. ‘Jenny would love it.’

This is the first time he’s mentioned his wife, so I’m honoured to hear it.

‘Make sure you give me your receipts so I can reimburse you,’ he adds.

‘No,’ I tell him. ‘Most of the plants were free, and anyway, I wanted to do this. Plus, it’s not like I ever asked for your permission.’ I meant to check with him,
but in the end I cracked on with Toby’s approval.

‘I might not be the most generous of bosses, but I don’t want you being out of pocket. I insist,’ he says.

‘Okay, thank you.’ I sense this is not an argument I’m going to win. ‘I’ve also planted some bulbs,’ I reveal. I dug them up from home, too.
‘You’ll see them in the spring. This space will be bursting with orange and red tulips and yellow daffodils. The flowers I’ve planted are perennials, so provided they don’t
get taken out by a harsh winter frost, they should come back year after year.’

I found I remembered a lot from my gardening sessions with Mum all those years ago.

‘Jenny loves fairy lights,’ Gavin reveals with a fond smile. ‘She’d have them all around the walls. I can imagine her sitting out here, decorating her
cupcakes.’

‘Do you think she’ll come to see it?’ I ask hopefully.

He shrugs, his smile fading slightly. ‘Who knows? We’re working on it. Thank you for the leaflets, by the way.’

I rang and asked a former colleague to post some.

We wander back into the bakery and I grab my things.

‘I meant to say,’ Gavin says as he ties up his apron. ‘Someone phoned me earlier, asking about the position. Are you sure you want to leave us?’

My stomach squeezes, but I nod. ‘I’m going to take some time out to go travelling,’ I tell him. I’ve already been on the internet researching my route.

‘Is that right? Never understood the lure, personally. I like what I know.’

I smile at him. ‘Toby doesn’t take after you, then.’

‘Toby?’ He scoffs as he pours water into the Hobart’s large silver mixing bowl. ‘You’ve got to be joking, right? He likes what he knows, too.’

This is probably one of those moments where I should keep my nose out of other people’s business and not interfere, but a leopard can’t change its spots overnight.

‘Toby told me he’d love to go to Australia,’ I reveal.

‘Did he?’ Gavin looks surprised as he grabs the flour.

‘But he doesn’t feel like he can leave you with so much on your plate.’

He pauses mid motion, then puts the flour back on the counter with a thump and gives me a hard stare. ‘Is that what he said?’

I stand my ground. ‘Yes.’

‘Hmm. Well, he’d bloody well better start saving, then,’ he mutters, getting on with his task. ‘Flights to Oz cost a bomb.’

Angus’s Land Rover is parked on the road outside the apartment when I get home, but he’s not in the living room and his bedroom door is closed. I’m concerned,
so, despite his recent insistence on privacy, I knock on his door. He can have his apartment back to himself when I’m gone.

He doesn’t answer so I cautiously open the door. He’s curled up in a foetal position on the bed, dressed in black jeans and a blue T-shirt.

‘Angus?’ I ask softly, but he doesn’t answer, and while I wait and watch, his chest rises and falls, slowly and evenly.

He’s facing away from me so I tiptoe around to the other side of his bed. He’s out cold and looks peaceful, but even sleep can’t disguise the dark circles under his eyes. I
have to fight the urge to reach down and brush his hair away from his face.

I care about him so much
, I think to myself. I always have and I always will.

The end wardrobes are slightly ajar and I can’t resist pushing them shut as I pass, but they spring back open again and reveal Phoebe’s possessions spilling haphazardly out of the
boxes. Her grey hoodie is on the top, and I feel a wave of guilt as I reach in and take it, leaving Angus’s room and quietly closing the door behind me.

I’m confused as I get on with preparing vegetables for a stir-fry. I’ll make enough dinner for Angus, too, just in case he wakes up and feels like joining me. I wasn’t sure if
he’d be here tonight. I thought he might be with Eliza, but from what she said, they’re keeping their distance from each other. It must be so confusing for them both.

I feel a sudden swell of jealousy at the thought of them together. Why does it bother me so much?

Fragments of Eliza’s diary scribblings come back to me, and when I think about the way she wrote about him, with such longing and such passion, I pause. Did I ever write with that
emotion?

I never read my own diary around the time that I rediscovered it in the loft, but I did bring it here with me.

I leave the cooking preparations on the kitchen worktop and go into my bedroom, closing the door behind me. Five minutes later, I’m sitting on my bed with the third and final purple
journal in my hands.

Half an hour later, I’m still sitting there, squirming with discomfort.

I sound like a lovesick teenager. I
was
a lovesick teenager. The first half of the diary sees me go through four different crushes that I had on various boys at school, and when Angus
finally comes on the scene, my ridiculousness jumps up a level.

‘I’ve just seen Angus and Phoebe kissing. My heart hurts so much, I know I’m going to cry myself to sleep.

I love him. I love him! Why did he have to fall for her? If only he loved me instead.’

My face is hot with embarrassment as I read. I sound twelve, not eighteen. I thought I was the mature one, heading off to university before my sisters, but I can see now that I was anything
but.

Angus doesn’t appear for dinner and, after surfing the net for flights and hotel deals, eventually I retire to my bedroom to read some more of Phoebe’s diary. In this entry,
it’s May Bank Holiday and we’d all gone to Primrose Hill for a picnic together – Josie and Craig, included. I remember that day – Gerard got called into work at the last
minute, but I still had a lovely time with my sister and friends. I can almost feel the warm sun on my face as I read about it...

I wake up, sweating and anxious.

I stumble to the bathroom, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror. No wonder I feel so hot; I put on Phoebe’s cashmere hoodie before I went to bed in lieu of PJs, and I’m
boiling inside it.

I press a cold, damp flannel to my face before leaving the bathroom, flicking off the light as I go.

I come to a sudden stop. Angus is standing in the doorway of his bedroom, naked except for his boxer shorts. He seems unsteady on his feet, as though he’s still half asleep.

Horror engulfs me as I remember what I’m wearing, and I can’t take it off because I have nothing on underneath. I’m about to ask if he’s alright, but he speaks first.

‘Phoebe?’ he whispers.

My insides turn to ice.

‘Rose.’ I shake my head quickly. ‘Angus, it’s me, it’s Rose.’ My voice doesn’t sound like my own.

‘Why are you doing this to me?’ he asks, anguished. He looks so lost that I can’t bear it. I run over to him and throw my arms around his neck.

‘I’m sorry,’ I cry.

He stands, frozen under my touch, and then his hands slowly slide around my waist.

‘You feel like her,’ he whispers, his grip on me tightening. I tense as he nestles his face against my neck and hair and breathes in deeply. ‘And you smell like her.’

I push him away, stumbling backwards. His eyes are shining in the dark light.

‘Are you trying to make me mistake you for her?’ he asks quietly, almost sinisterly.

‘No.’ I shake my head fervently, unable to believe that we’re having this conversation.

‘Because it wouldn’t be the first time I’d fucked up like that, would it?’

‘Angus, stop it!’ I say with distress, detesting his tone. It’s not like him to be cruel, but I know he’s trying to hurt himself as much as he’s hurting me.

‘Go back to bed,’ he says dully, turning away from me.

‘I know about you and Eliza!’ I call after him. His footsteps falter. ‘I saw her today.’

I hear his fast intake of breath, but he keeps his back to me.

‘She came to see me at the bakery. She and I are going to be okay,’ I tell him weakly. ‘We’ll work out our differences.’

‘I’m happy for you,’ he replies in a monotone before going into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

I toss and turn for the rest of the night, eventually giving up in the early hours of the morning. I shower and get dressed in a distinctly ‘Rose’ outfit: a red and
white floral-patterned dress which is fitted at the waist and kicks out into a full skirt around the knee, then I go into the kitchen and make a pot of tea.

Angus emerges sooner rather than later, and from the weary look on his face, he’s been awake half the night, too.

‘I’m sorry about—’

We both speak at the same time.

‘I’m sorry,’ I mumble, hurrying over to give him a hug. I stiffen only briefly when he hugs me back, but there are no signs of him going weird on me again.

‘Me too,’ he says, releasing me. ‘I never should have said those things to you.’

‘It’s okay.’ My eyes fill with tears. ‘It was my fault for taking her hoodie again. I’ll get it for you now.’

He grabs my arm to stop me from leaving. ‘You don’t have to,’ he says firmly, pulling me back. ‘She was your sister. I should never have made you give me her things back.
That was wrong of me. You can take what you like of hers. The other night, I’d just come back from seeing Eliza and I was in a bit of a state. Seeing you in Phoebe’s clothes sort of
tipped me over the edge. I’m sorry.’

I bite my lip, staring at the floor.

‘So, you know about us?’ he asks gently, bending down in an attempt to make eye contact. I meet his gaze.

‘Yes.’

‘I should have told you I was seeing her.’ He sounds contrite.

‘I understand why you didn’t,’ I reply. ‘I’ll admit I have mixed feelings about it.’

He rakes his hair back from his face and goes to sit on the sofa with a heavy sigh. I join him. Time for our heart-to-heart, it seems.

‘To be honest, I’m not sure if it’ll go further than this.’ He looks drawn. ‘We’re both pretty messed up.’

I raise my hand.

‘Yes, you too,’ he says with a wry smile. ‘I guess it was to be expected.’

‘Maybe I should never have moved in with you.’ I sound depressed.

‘Don’t say that,’ he mutters. ‘I’m glad you did.’

‘I won’t be here for much longer.’

I belatedly fill him in about my plans.

‘You want to go back to where Phoebe died?’ He looks shocked.

‘Yes. I know it’s going to be hard, but I hope it’ll also be sort of beautiful. Phoebe wanted me to see the things that she saw on her year out. I want to go to the top of the
Aiguille du Midi, I want to hike across a mountain and see the view down through the valley. I was actually wondering if you might consider coming?’

His mouth falls open. He shuts it again. ‘No, I couldn’t. I couldn’t bear it. I can’t believe you can.’

‘I was going to ask Eliza, too,’ I say.

This time his lips tilt up at the corners. ‘Are you mad? She’d never agree to do that.’

I laugh under my breath. ‘You’re probably right.’ For one she’s scared of heights, for another she hates prolonged goodbyes. ‘But I thought I’d ask her
anyway. I’m sure I’ll end up going on my own.’

He actually looks quite impressed.

‘Have you spoken to Josie recently?’ I ask him, and I don’t know why, but his whole expression becomes strained. ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask.

He shakes his head. ‘Josie and I haven’t been in touch for months, but I’ve been meaning to call her. I need to talk to her about something.’

‘What?’ I ask.

‘I’m hoping she’ll tell me everything she knows about Phoebe and Remy.’

Now it’s my turn to look shocked as he fills me in.

Eliza

I’m working the Saturday lunchtime shift at
Roxy’s
, but on my way out the door, Rose rings me.

‘Eliza, it’s Rose.’

‘Hi,’ I reply with surprise.

What follows is a head-fuck of a conversation about Remy, Josie and Phoebe’s purple diary from her gap year because, it turns out, my dear sister recently read that, too.

‘You are opening a whole can of worms,’ I warn, deadly serious. Maybe Phoebe’s secrets are meant to go with her to the grave.