The One We Fell in Love With (37 page)

‘Shit! I can’t believe I forgot his birthday!’

‘Don’t worry, the new girl was showering him with attention.’

‘What’s she like?’ I ask nervily.

‘Ha! Gotcha,’ she says, instantly cottoning on to my jealousy. I squirm in my seat. ‘Late thirties, very mumsy. Can’t see it happening.’

‘The point is,’ I say, trying to regain control of the conversation, ‘Mum struggled for years to get pregnant, and my biological clock is ticking, too.’

‘You’re not even thirty!’ she exclaims.

‘But Toby’s nowhere near ready to settle down.’

‘No, I don’t imagine he is, but Jesus, Rose, what’s the big rush? Why are you so desperate to shack up and have kids? People do that a lot later in life now.’

‘That’s easy for you to say. You have Angus.’

‘Angus and I aren’t in any hurry,’ she states firmly. ‘Your problem is that you think you can plan how your life is going to pan out. You’re like Phoebe in that
respect. But love doesn’t have an order. It happens when it happens.’

‘I’m not in love. I just have a stupid crush.’ Another one.

‘Whatever. You have to work this out on your own.’

In the next couple of months, I travel through Germany, Holland, Belgium, France, Portugal, Spain and Italy. I visit the Bauhaus museum in Berlin, ride a bicycle along the
canals in Amsterdam and eat too much chocolate in Bruges. The Sistine Chapel is closed, but I tour the Vatican in Rome, window shop in the grand arcades of Milan and snigger at the size of the
statues’ willies in Florence, trying my best to look impressed at the mastery of Michelangelo’s David. I eat too many tapas at the Mercado San Miguel in Madrid and tone my legs walking
up most of the seven hills in hot and sticky Lisbon, and I sit on a beach in Biarritz, watching the surfers with the Pyrenees mountains in the background.

It’s a small world when you’re riding the train tracks of Europe, and I bump into the same people more than once. At first I feel out of place – like I don’t belong with
so many youngsters on their gap years – but soon I find I have things in common with people and make friends, regardless of age.

I speak to Eliza regularly, and she seems as keen as I am to strengthen our sisterly bond. She’s now a personal assistant to the head of an indie record label and she loves the role, but
they work her to the bone. She doesn’t mind – she’s much happier being surrounded by musos instead of demanding, unappreciative customers. She’s also thrilled that Joe wants
her to continue to play regular gigs – I’ve asked Angus to record a couple of songs next time and email them to me.

I spoke to Angus before I left the Alps and gently brought him up to date with everything Remy said. It was a heart-wrenching conversation and I’m not sure that it answered all of his
questions, but I think he’s coming to terms with it and is ready to lay Phoebe to rest. He’s committed to Eliza, one hundred per cent.

I talk to Mum too, of course, and I also frequently text and call Toby. I’ve given up trying to control my attraction to him. Who knows where we’ll be in a year when I return? For
now, we’re friends, and I’m not going to fight it.

Eventually I end up back in Paris, ready for my flight to Brisbane the next day.

Eliza calls me when I’m at the top of the Eiffel Tower.

‘I can’t believe you’re so close and I can’t see you,’ she says.

‘You should’ve come over here for the weekend,’ I say, trying to swallow my mouthful of
pain au chocolat
. I’m eating on the run.

‘Why didn’t you suggest it!’ she cries, sounding traumatised.

I laugh. ‘Don’t worry about it. It’s only just occurred to me, to be honest.’

‘It’s going to be horrible without you here at Christmas,’ she says miserably.

‘It’s going to be hard for me, too,’ I agree.

I’ve tried not to think about it too much. The first Christmas without Phoebe was unbearable. The second will be almost as challenging, but with every year that passes, we just have to
believe that it will get easier.

‘Have you spoken to Toby recently?’ she asks.

‘Last night. We speak quite regularly. Why?’

‘Still think it’s a crush?’

‘Oh, I don’t know, Eliza.’ I feel my face start to warm.

‘Don’t be so prickly, Rose,’ she teases.

‘Bugger off,’ I reply, making her hoot with laughter. ‘I do like talking to him,’ I admit when she composes herself. ‘And I miss him much more than I could ever
have imagined I would.’

‘But do you
fancy
him?’ she asks in a cheeky voice.

‘He can be quite flirty on the phone,’ I confide. ‘I don’t discourage him, but I probably should.’

‘You like it too much.’

‘Mmm.’ I feel like my face is about to catch alight.

‘Good,’ she says, and I can practically hear her smile cracking her features.

I end the call soon afterwards because the tower is swaying slightly and it’s making me feel nauseous. The world seems keen to let me know that I’m not so great at heights, after
all.

Toby rings me an hour later as I’m wandering alongside the river on my way to a museum.

‘We only spoke last night,’ I say, but I’m smiling as I locate a bench to perch on.

‘Eliza said you’re missing me.’

‘Has she been into the bakery?’ It’s Saturday.

‘She comes in all the damn time, giving me grief.’

I laugh. ‘Do you ever think she’s me when she walks through the door?’

‘Never,’ he replies quite seriously. ‘But I wish she
was
you. I miss you.’

‘I miss you too, but, Toby...’ I sigh. ‘You know I’m going to be away for a long time, right? Who knows what’s going to happen. You shouldn’t wait for
me.’ Even as I say it, I feel a wave of nausea about the idea of him being with someone else.

‘
Do
you miss me?’ he asks after a long pause.

‘Of course.’ I sit up straighter. ‘You’re not in Paris, are you?’

‘Do you wish I was?’

‘
Are
you here?’ I scan the crowds urgently.

‘No, I’m not,’ he tells me, and I’m unprepared for the disappointment I feel. ‘Sorry. It’s my mum’s birthday,’ he explains. ‘We’re
having a small family celebration at the bakery tonight. She’s not ready to go out to a restaurant or anything yet.’

‘Oh. That sounds really lovely.’ I try to sound like I mean it because I do. I have no idea why I feel like crying.

‘What time is your flight tomorrow?’ he asks.

‘Nine forty-five in the evening.’

‘Will you text me when you get there?’

‘Sure.’ My mobile bill alone will wipe out my budget if I keep making phone calls once I’m Down Under.

‘Are you okay?’ he asks gently.

‘I’m fine!’ Honestly, though, my throat is swollen and if I try to say more than two words, he’ll hear how choked I sound.

‘Rose,’ he says quietly.

I burst into tears.

‘Hey!’ He’s mortified.

‘I’m sorry!’ I reply, gulping for air. ‘I just thought for a moment that you were here.’

‘I’m really sorry,’ he says, but he sounds more amused than apologetic.

I brush away my tears and gather myself together.

‘I’m glad you want me there so much.’ He’s a bit too pleased with himself, but I don’t deny it. The phone is pressed up against my ear and it’s leaving a
painful impression, but I’m still sad when he makes a move to end our call.

‘Listen, I’d better go,’ he says reluctantly. ‘Vanessa’s out the front on her own and it sounds quite busy.’

‘Are you in the garden?’ I ask.

‘Yes.’

‘With the windows open?’

‘Just a crack. I’ve taken the frosting off,’ he answers my next question before I can ask it.

‘Good.’

We both fall silent for a long moment, but I know he’s smiling. He speaks first.

‘I love you, Rose. Have a safe flight and remember to text me,’ he reiterates.

‘Okay, I will.’

After we end the call I stare down at the phone in my hand, stunned. Did Toby just tell me he loves me?

Despite their refutations, I go through the next few hours hoping that Toby and Eliza have indeed concocted an elaborate plan to sneak over to Paris and surprise me, but by the
time I’m tucked up in bed that night, I have to concede that they were telling the truth. I fall asleep feeling disheartened and lonely, and the feeling doesn’t leave me all the next
day.

On Sunday night I board a long flight to Brisbane via Dubai, and on Tuesday I step off a plane into a cool Australian morning.

My Uncle Simon and his partner Katherine meet me at the airport, and I’m happy to be in the company of family again.

Simon is my favourite of Dad’s three brothers. Uncle Jack lives in Scotland, but he’s a cantankerous old git who doesn’t like visitors – although Phoebe and Dad used to
drop in on him when they went on climbs there. Our other uncle, Gerry, lives in America with his third wife and we barely see him at all, but Simon has come to visit often – he and Dad were
very close.

I’ve only met Katherine on three separate occasions and one of those times was when she came to Dad’s funeral, but I really like her. I’d actually forgotten that she’s
thirteen years older than Simon, because a stranger wouldn’t be able to guess if they saw them standing side-by-side.

The first time I met her, she had long greying hair, but she’s gradually cut it shorter and it’s currently layered into a tawny brown mid-length style with dark-blonde
highlights.

As for Simon, he’s now the same age Dad was when he died and he’s grown to look more like him over the years. I feel a pang as his face breaks out into his brother’s grin, but
the unfamiliar Aussie twang in his accent soon has me smiling again.

Simon and Katherine used to live in Sydney, but they moved to Byron Bay a few years ago and opened up an art gallery. It’s only a week until Christmas so by the time I arrive the town
centre is jam-packed with tourists here for the festive season and we sit in bumper-to-bumper traffic all the way down the hippie-tastic main street.

Katherine’s nephews are coming over with their families for Christmas, but I have a couple of days to get over the worst of my jetlag before they arrive. I’ve never met them before,
but my uncle assures me that I’ll love them. At least, he hopes so, because apparently it’s going to be a bit of a squash.

I don’t know why he’s worried. The house is huge with four double bedrooms and a large open-plan living area that opens up onto a wide balcony on the first floor. They have an
infinity pool down below which has the most incredible view, broken only by two tall palm trees in the sloping garden. A white sandy beach stretches all the way along the coast, with a multitude of
surfers riding the cool, blue waves. Katherine and Simon actually live on a hill overlooking Wategos Bay, which is just over a five-minute drive to much busier Byron. Simon tells me there’s a
beautiful walk from here up to the lighthouse and Australia’s easternmost point.

Simon is right: I really like Katherine’s nephews and their families, although he was also right about the house feeling crammed now there are eleven people staying in it.

Sam is warm and friendly and his wife Molly is a blast, making me laugh every time she pretends to be completely harassed by her three boisterous children.

Nathan is less outgoing than his brother, but just as warm, and his wife Lucy and I hit it off immediately. Although she’s often distracted by the demands of their unbearably cute
eighteen-month-old son, Finn, we find time to chat and bond over our shared love of Somerset while nursing cups of tea out on the balcony. Lucy spent quite a few years growing up in England and her
mum has a place in Dunster, not far from where my Aunt Suzie lives. I think I might have actually been to her mum’s teashop in the past.

After a few days, it occurs to me that my jetlag is kind of a blessing because I’m naturally waking up early – I wouldn’t stand a chance of a sleep-in with all the noise
created by the children each morning. I love that the house is full and lively because it’s helping to take my mind off an approaching Christmas without Mum and Eliza, not to mention Phoebe.
But two days before Christmas, Simon notices me taking a couple of headache tablets at breakfast and encourages me to head down to the beach for some peace and quiet. I sit on the cool white sand
and stare out at the ocean, watching the surfers expertly navigating the waves.

‘G’day,’ I hear a voice say and look to my left to see Nathan walking towards me, carrying a surfboard. His black wetsuit has been rolled down to his waist and his dark hair is
wet from the surf.

‘I didn’t know you were down here,’ I say, trying not to gawp at his chest. Lucy’s a lucky girl.

‘Yeah, I’m just going back up. You staying here for a bit?’ he asks. ‘I think Lucy wants to bring Finn down for a play in the sand.’

There goes my peace and quiet. Not that I mind.

‘I’ll be here,’ I say.

‘Cool, see ya later,’ he says, and my eyes follow him as he wanders off along the beach, his tanned feet making imprints in the sand.

‘Is that my competition?’ I hear a deep, familiar voice say.

My heart nearly jumps out of my chest as I shoot my head around to see Toby standing behind my right shoulder.

‘Oh my God!’ I murmur, scrambling to my feet.

He raises one eyebrow at me.

‘Oh my God!’ This time I squeal it, throwing myself at him.

He laughs as his arms close around me.

‘Oh my God!’ I say, pulling away to look at him.

‘You’re starting to worry me now, Rose,’ he says drily. ‘Have you lost the ability to speak?’

‘Holy shit!’ I exclaim.

He looks thoroughly entertained.

‘What are you doing here?’ I demand to know, gawping at the wide khaki green straps coming over his shoulder and then grabbing his arm and turning him to see the enormous backpack on
his back. ‘You’re not!’ I gasp.

‘I am,’ he replies with a grin. ‘Turns out I won’t be buying a car yet after all.’

‘Oh my God!’

‘Rose!’ He shakes me slightly. ‘Are you happy to see me?’

‘Are you kidding? Oh my God, are you coming backpacking with me?’

‘Oh my God, only if you want me to,’ he replies, mimicking me and then smiling.