Page 48 of An Island Promise

Her cheeks burnt hot. ‘Exactly that.’ She picked up the tea and blew on it, needing something else to focus on.

‘I didn’t think I’d be good company today.’ Dimples formed in his stubble. ‘But there you go, you made me smile. I didn’t even want to speak to Cara. I didn’t want to get upset and I knew I’d start thinking too hard and getting angry at how fucking unfair life can be.’

‘I take it being on your own didn’t help?’

‘Nope, not one bit.’ He slid his arm along the back of the sofa. ‘All I’ve done is felt sad and bitter, moping about being unsociable and miserable when I should have been channelling my efforts into remembering Paloma for all the good she brought into my life. How blessed I was to have had her love for seven years. It ultimately made me a better person. But in reality all I’ve done is be angry at the world.’

‘I sometimes get angry at the world as well, but you have reason. Something shitty happens to me and I think I’m being punished when actually bad shit happens to everyone. That’s life. Sometimes you just have to deal with things and not place blame. It’s not life conspiring against me even if it feels that way.’

‘It’s hard not to think like that though.’

‘Yes, when you’re young you believe you’re invincible and the world revolves around you.’

Caleb grunted in agreement.

‘I used to think like that after having the best time at university, acing my degree while playing a lot harder than I worked.’ Belle took a sip of the peppermint tea and put the mug back on the table. ‘After graduating I had an incredible summer with our holiday to Ibiza, then I split my time between Sheffield where I went to uni and back home with friends before movingto London. I had the best time followed by the worst. It was out of my control, but I felt my decisions and not being brave enough to take a chance on something contributed to it, because part of me wanted to stay here on Ibiza.’ Her cheeks flushed hot again, undecided if she should explain her feelings. But not being open about things in the past had always led to heartache. ‘I was pretty infatuated by Diego.’

Caleb shook his head but his smile eased her worry about talking so openly. ‘He has that way with women. It’s nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about.’

‘Even though I had this exciting new start in London to look forward to, I was gutted to leave Ibiza. And London did get off to a good start. I made new friends and although the job itself wasn’t quite what I’d hoped for, it was my foot on the career ladder and I was earning decent money. Life was pretty good. Then shit hit the fan.’

Caleb rested his forearms on his knees, leaned closer and looked at her with concern. ‘What happened?’

30

SEPTEMBER 2013, TEN YEARS AGO

In the six weeks since Belle had moved to London, she’d started her first job in marketing, made new friends and had kissed one guy. As things went, her new life post-uni and away from her parents in Norfolk had got off to a good start, even though the long commute from her shared house was the worst part of the working week and the job wasn’t exactly what she’d been hoping for.

The thought of sharing a house with three strangers had been nerve-wracking but also the perfect way to not feel quite so alone in a big city. They were all professionals. Two were in their mid-twenties, and the third, Hannah, was new to London as well and had just spent a gap year in Australia. She was also working in marketing, although for a publisher rather than a corporate events company. They’d hit it off immediately.

Ibiza felt like a distant dream, yet Belle frequently woke up thinking about Diego and often fell asleep fantasising about him too. She and Hannah had been on a couple of nights out, one when they’d got chatting to a couple of men. While Hannah had gone home with one, Belle had felt nothing when the bloke flirting with her had kissed her. Admittedly, he didn’t haveDiego’s Spanish good looks, his charm or utter deliciousness, nor were they basking under the Mediterranean sun on the White Isle either… She certainly had post-holiday blues and the thought of jacking it all in and heading back to Ibiza was massively appealing, particularly when the job proved to be little more than grunt work. What marketing she did get to do was uninspiring, which wasn’t helped by her tetchy line manager.

Belle’s fifth week in her new job started off as normal. She’d got into a routine of grabbing breakfast in the shared kitchen, saying a quick hello to any housemates who were around, then walking to the bus stop. She’d been late two days in a row in her first week due to roadworks and snarled up traffic, which hadn’t gone down well with her easily irritated boss. Belle had now switched to an earlier bus which meant getting up at silly o’clock, but at least she wasn’t pissing anyone off by being late. The commute sucked, but she was able to listen to music or read. She was beginning to see the same people on the journey, a couple who even returned her smile.

Monday morning was her least favourite time of the week, not helped by it being a drizzly day at the end of September, but at least she managed to get a seat downstairs by the window. Summer seemed a long time ago. Her one regret about Ibiza was not suggesting to Diego that they kept in touch, but not having the chance to see him one last time had been out of her hands.

She opened up her text messages and clicked on Diego’s name, re-reading for what felt like the millionth time the one she’d sent him after Gem had finally got back to their hotel.

I’m so sorry I didn’t get to see you last night. Laurie was sick so I had to help her and I didn’t have my phone so couldn’t contact you – it was a nightmare, the worst bit not seeing you x

She scrolled down to the reply he’d sent.

No problem. Things happen.

That had been it and her heart had sunk. Even two months later it made her tearful. She’d wanted to suggest they met briefly before they headed to the airport but there was no hint from that text that he’d want to, no sense that he’d missed spending one last night with her. Not knowing how to respond, she hadn’t replied at all.

With a sigh, she clicked off the messages. Even with the bus lanes, the journey was slow, all stop and start. She glanced out of the grimy window to see where they were then scrolled through the photos on her phone, stopping when she found one of her and Diego in Ibiza, a selfie she’d taken on the second evening they’d spent together. His arms were draped over her and their beaming smiles matched. She remembered the thrill of being with him, buzzing with the love or lust coursing through her. It highlighted how emotionally lost she felt now.

She could still message him and see if he wanted to connect on social media, but each time she thought about it she stopped herself. What would she gain beyond torturing herself, glimpsing his carefree Ibiza life, wondering who he was hooking up with while mulling over the ‘what ifs’? There was no point. And as the days, then weeks, went by since the holiday, the idea of reconnecting with him seemed less and less likely.

Belle sighed again, clicked off the photo, popped her earphones in and listened to a dance hits playlist. The bus wasfinally going faster so they must have been out of the worst of the traffic.

A man in a seat across the aisle stood up, a frown creasing his forehead.

The bus was still moving and a couple more people were on their feet. Belle peered through the window. With the rain streaking the glass, she couldn’t see much but she didn’t think they were near a stop.

She pulled her earphones out and Avicii’s ‘Wake Me Up’ was replaced by raised voices.

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