Page 65 of The Island of Hopes and Dreams

Despite Polly’s insistence to give them all the gossip, none of her friends pushed Lola for details. After breakfast, Polly’s quiet ‘So, did you have a good night?’ within earshot of Deni and Sarah was answered by Lola’s flushed-cheeked smile, nod and a whispered ‘The best.’ Polly had hugged her, Deni had grinned and Sarah had knocked her shoulder against hers, commenting ‘About time too.’

Perhaps they sensed she was hurting, sad and confused even if she had the delicious memory of the night before. Rhys had been worth it; not only did he make her feel worthy and wonderful, but he was gentle and passionate, thoughtful, sexy and open. His suggestion to go travelling with him had surprised her. It was tempting, but she couldn’t upend her life, not when she had a job and responsibilities. It wasn’t as if there was a realistic future for them.

She squashed that thought, unwilling to imagine a different path, one that included Rhys. She didn’t want the burden of conflict, not when she needed to focus on ensuring her ex stayed out of her life. That was her priority before she could think about anything else.

On the plane with Deni and Mark sitting quietly next to her, and Sarah and Polly in the row behind, she had too much time to mull over the last couple of weeks while she was in limbo between Sardinia and home.

There was no pretence with Rhys; he was willing to talk about his feelings, his hopes and dreams as much as his fears and regrets. Going travelling was his way to heal and figure out what he wanted. He was at a crossroads and perhaps she was too, she just hadn’t realised it till now. Life was a merry-go-round of adult responsibilities, work and friends, relationships and big dreams. But what was her dream? She had ambition, but what did she want long term? In the early days of her relationship with Jarek when she’d been swept up in love, her imagination had run away with her thinking about their future, and her focus had shifted from being totally career-minded to settling down and starting a family. A shudder stole through her. How trapped she would have been if their relationship had become serious – she couldn’t even bear to think about the horror of having had a child with him.

Lola gazed out of the window to a silver streak of a river winding through a mountainous region far below. A thought had been seeded a while ago of what shape her life could take with someone she loved, with someone who treated her right and loved her unconditionally. She hadn’t dared believe it could be more than a fantasy. Her days revolved around work and a social life, yet she wanted more, but she hadn’t realised what it was she was missing out on.

Her friends were all growing, moving on and pursuing things that enriched their lives. For Lola, a feeling of loss had been building following the end of a destructive relationship, then witnessing her best friend changing her life so drastically for Fabs and their future, but Mirabel was doing it for love. When Lola really thought about it, what was more important than that?

39

The Eurostar train leaving London St Pancras and heading for the Channel Tunnel felt much like a metaphor for what Rhys was doing; careering headfirst into the dark and unknown. He wasn’t running away, but trying to find his way back to the person he used to be.

It was ironic that his first stop was Paris, the city of love. He’d been brave and made a romantic gesture by inviting Lola; he had to remind himself she hadn’t shot him down, she just wasn’t in a position to pause her life for an adventure with someone she had only just met, however intense, eye-opening and emotional their time together had been.

However jumbled their emotions had become, their love pact had been just that, a pact. The love bit wasn’t real, even if it had felt like it at times and things had developed between them physically. She was more than just a good memory, though. He was going to keep in touch with her; he just hoped she’d meant it when she’d reciprocated his desire to stay friends.

Rhys rested his forehead against the window as the countryside outside of London passed by in a brown-green blur. He was on his way to Paris, while Lola had been dealing with a huge headache back in London, reporting Jarek and pursuing a legal route to ensure he stayed out of her life. She had Barnaby on the case, supporting her legally as her representative but as a friend too – a role Rhys himself had wanted. He’d even considered delaying the start of his travelling, but what use would he be in Bristol while she was in London? She didn’t need any handholding, plus during their last morning in Sardinia she’d encouraged him to reshape his life. They’d erased their sadness with one last tumble in the sheets, a memory that resurfaced frequently. He just wished they’d had more time, more of each other, more everything. They’d messaged each other a few times since they’d returned from Sardinia, and he’d suggested they meet up in London ahead of him leaving for Paris, but unfortunately that had coincided with her working away.

He sighed deeply and his breath fogged the window. Travelling was supposed to be the start of his journey to renewal, so why did it feel like he was leaving everything important to him behind?

* * *

Rhys had been craving time alone, but he’d underestimated just how alone he’d feel ambling along the streets of Paris. Of course there were plenty of other people on their own, but that didn’t stop him from noticing the couples walking hand in hand. He really had nothing to be sad about when his time was his own and he was free of the mundaneness of everyday life, a freedom that would continue till almost the end of the year. He’d head home refreshed, revitalised and raring to go again. At least that was the plan.

The Eiffel Tower soared into the sky, bold against the rain-grey clouds. The air was damp and the trees were autumn-tinged: gold and red and wintery brown. Underfoot, the paths were carpeted by soggy leaves. It was a long way from the perfect sunny days they’d experienced in Sardinia; it was as if the flight home had switched the seasons from summer to autumn. The view was iconic, but it seemed less romantic on a grey day. Holding his phone up, he captured the whole of the Eiffel Tower and took a picture. After Sardinia, he believed he was in a better place emotionally, but he felt adrift without Lola; being on his own again only highlighted how wonderful their time together had been. He hadn’t had much time to dwell on things when he’d been back in Bristol unpacking, repacking and getting his house ready for his cousin, but he had all the time in the world now to think.

Sarah and Gareth had set up a Sardinia WhatsApp group for them to all keep in touch. There’d been so many messages wishing him well as he’d set off to catch the Eurostar, but it had been Lola’s ‘bon voyage’ that had meant the most.

After pounding the Parisian streets, Rhys returned to Montmartre. Before heading to his hotel on one of the winding cobbled streets, he detoured to a restaurant he’d put on his list of places to visit.

Large boughs of red, white and purple flowers decorated the wall above the canopy that covered the typically Parisian tables and chairs. The day had slowly brightened, and now it was early evening, the sky had cleared, bringing with it a glimpse of sunshine.

He nabbed a table on the pavement which enabled him to watch the world go by to a backdrop of crisp autumn colour. A breeze tunnelled along the street, sending leaves spiralling down from the trees. He ordered and sipped a glass of Sauvignon Blanc while he waited for his food. It was hard to believe it was a week day. The stab of guilt that he wasn’t teaching his Year 5 class was expected and, on day one of travelling, he felt like he was skiving. Doing what he pleased would take some getting used to.

His phone buzzed. He turned it over and his heart did a flip when he saw who the message was from. Lola. He clicked on it.

Bonjour Rhys! Es-tu arrives? That’s the extent of my French, desolee! How is Paris? I’ve been thinking about you all day. I was gutted to be up in Yorkshire while you were in London yesterday, but hey ho work calls (not that I can really call the last couple of days work!). I think what you’re doing is brave, adventurous and just darn wonderful – enjoy every minute of it, even the bits that you struggle with, because I’m sure the good will outweigh the bad. Send me pics! x

That little voice of worry became a lot smaller and his heart flickered back to life. He shouldn’t have questioned if she’d really wanted to remain friends when her message was effortlessly breezy. The warm tingle in his heart grew. He’d chosen to go travelling by himself, but that didn’t mean he was alone. If the time in Sardinia had taught him anything, it was that he had some good friends. He’d also been surprised by the connection he’d had with the people he hadn’t been that close to, because when he returned he would meet up with Gareth for that drink. While there would always be a distance between himself, Freddie and Zoe, it didn’t mean they couldn’t have a tentative friendship. Even with Fabs living in another country, they would always be best friends. Of course there would be challenges as their lives veered in different directions, but that didn’t have to change anything if Rhys didn’t let it. He’d see more of Barnaby too, because comparing himself to his friend’s success both professionally and personally was futile; there was true friendship there and a connection that had been strengthened by their time away.

And as for Lola, his feelings and thoughts may have been scrambled when it came to her, but in his heart he knew how he felt and he wasn’t scared. It was a feeling he would embrace as he strolled the streets of Paris and continued on to Barcelona, Lyon, Milan and beyond. Rebuilding his confidence, learning to accept who he was and focus on the good in his life was within grasping distance. He just needed to let go of his fear, his worries and that nagging thought that he didn’t deserve happiness or was worthy of finding love.

A waiter brought him a plate of chicken supreme and topped up his wine. The rich creamy smell of the mushroom sauce spiralled into the chill air; people strode by, their heels clipping the pavement, and the early-evening sun made the shuttered buildings opposite gleam in the retreating light.

He turned his focus to Lola’s message and started a reply.

Paris is wonderful

Rhys’s fingers hovered over the keys. He knew what he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure if he should. But why hide what he was thinking and feeling? Burying his emotions and worrying had done him no good. Wasn’t it better to be brave and say what he meant, rather than wonder what could have happened?

He finished writing the message and sent it.

Paris is wonderful, much like you.

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