Page 55 of The Library of Second Chances
‘Not bad,’ Chloe remarked later, holding her box of chilli baked potato smothered in salty butter in her hands. People were lining up for hot chocolate and marshmallows, and the air held a heavenly mix of savoury and sweet food. Chloe huddled next to Harry, his warmth a relief in the cold night. The fireworks display would start in fifteen minutes.
Some children played with sparklers, laughing as they waved them around to spell their names or make shapes. They went to see the fire pit, which Chloe thought was quite small, but its warmth was delicious. Harry bought Chloe a hot chocolate and she happily sipped. It was gloriously creamy.
‘It’s starting,’ said Harry, flinching only ever so slightly as the first of the fireworks screeched and popped into the sky. People oohed and aahed at the bright display. Chloe glanced around to see the people watching with delight. A few dogs cowered between their owners’ legs; others looked unbothered. A man wrapped an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders, cuddling him close as they looked skyward. It was a beautiful moment, everyone stopping what they were doing to stand together and watch the fireworks.
Harry had a smile on his face, the lights reflecting in his eyes. Maybe it was the atmosphere or the fireworks, but Chloe thought he had never looked so handsome. His lips were parted in wonder, a look of innocent joy on his face.
A loud bang of a new firework caught her attention. It fizzed and crackled into hundreds of silver lights that faded into smoke. Harry’s hand took her free one and squeezed tight.
The crowd watched in awe as the display hit its climax, colours exploding high above them in an orchestra of squeaks and pops and crackles. When the lights faded and all that was left was the sharp scent of lingering smoke, Harry turned to look at her, pleasure on his face. It made his eyes crinkle in a charming way.
‘Fireworks,’ he said, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. ‘They never get old.’
He leaned down towards her, and Chloe felt a wave of joy, almost giddy with happiness. She nodded slightly and wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him towards her. Their lips met. His were soft, the scent of his aftershave filling her nose, and his mouth parted eagerly to taste her, sending a shiver of desire to her core.
People talked and laughed around them, but Chloe didn’t mind. Harry’s strong arms wrapped around her waist as he kissed her, his touch full of promise. No one had kissed her like this in ages, and heat rushed to Chloe’s cheeks, a contrast to the cold air. When he pulled back, he was grinning and she was breathless.
‘You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘I like you, Chloe.’
His words made her laugh. Chloe spent the rest of the evening on cloud nine. He held her hand for the rest of the night, his large thumb often running over the back of her hand. She was still walking on clouds when Harry dropped her off at home later. After he’d turned off the engine, he cupped her face in his hand and kissed her slowly, deeply, seducing a groan from her throat. Now they were alone, he lingered, planting soft, gentle kisses along her lips and her cheek. She sat in her seat, low music playing, pleasure tingling across her skin as she craved more.
Did he want her to invite him inside? Chloe wanted to, whether Gwen was in there or not. Her fingers found the top of his jacket and clung to his collar. She was about to ask him when Harry’s lips reached her ear. His breath warm on her earlobe, he whispered, ‘Goodnight, Chloe.’
She closed her eyes, reminding herself to breathe. Right. He wasn’t ready. And that was okay.
‘I had an amazing time,’ she said, opening the car door. ‘See you again.’
‘Soon,’ he promised, and she felt his eyes lingering on her as she climbed out of his car. He waited until she was at her door, and she waved at him, watching until his car had disappeared around the corner, the rumble of the engine fading away.
She still saw fireworks when she blinked, the taste of the hot chocolate and the masculine, comforting scent of Harry still on her lips as she went inside the house, sighing happily like a teenager on her first date. What was happening? She felt scared of these new feelings blossoming for Harry, but at the same time, she wanted to embrace them. She pressed her fingers gently against her lips, wishing she could keep the sense of him on her for longer.
Gwen wasn’t here, the house empty. The thought was strangely lonely; she had gotten used to her sister greeting her and badgering her with questions when she returned. Oh well. This was peaceful. Now she could soak in the glorious aftermath of her date with Harry with no distractions.
When Chloe flicked the lights on, she noted that Gwen had managed to clean up after herself – the living room was neat, the cushions in their proper places and Dad’s coffee table free of curled-up receipts or forgotten plates. The kitchen, too, sat unblemished, only a few things in the drying rack. Chloe put them away, wondering if Gwen was on a date of her own again. Maybe with the same guy as before. Chloe made a mental note to ask her sister how it’d gone.
The house was quiet, though fireworks occasionally popped and banged outside, people still celebrating. It almost felt like it had at the beginning after Chloe had come back, the first night she had spent here alone after the funeral. The aunts and distant relatives had gone home, some with boxes of clothes and other bits not precious enough to keep hold of that they promised topass on to charity shops. With the last box in the attic and Mum and Dad’s room door closed, Chloe had sat here and cried for hours.
After that, she’d gone back to Sheffield and her marketing job, and for several months she’d tried and failed to find some normalcy with this dark hole in her life where her parents used to be. Then when a solicitor had contacted her to sort out the legality of the property, she had taken it as a sign to finally admit defeat and leave her office job and tiny flat and move out here. Soon after, she had found the ad for the job at the library.
The library had been a solace. She didn’t know what she would have done without Mrs Cook, Clementine, the library, and even Eric. Now she allowed herself to think about Harry, to enjoy a harmless fantasy of going on more dates with him, holding his hand, talking about anything.
But that was only a distraction. Gwen’s presence could be annoying, but at least it was noise. Noise that distracted her from old memories.
Chloe wandered through the house and paused at the bottom of the staircase, where the moonlight shone through the arch-shaped frosted glass of the front door window. She couldn’t keep looking for distractions.
She let the memories of her childhood wash over her.
Dad coming home from work, coughing from smoking too much as he closed the door to announce he was home. Chloe playing with Gwen as a child, then fighting over something silly, then making up. Playing a board game with their parents. The memories were painful, but Chloe let herself feel them. That was the way to get over the past – by facing it, feeling the agony, then letting it fade on its own.
Pushing it down or running away from it only made it fester in the deepest, darkest corners of your mind. Then it wouldcome back at the worst possible moment, in the form of tears or anger or worse.
Chloe let her tears fall now, sinking onto the bottom stair. She missed her mum and dad more than she could bear. She wished that she had made more of an effort to spend time with them. A Facetime call every few weeks and the occasional text had not been enough. They had been so young that she had assumed, foolishly, that they would live for decades yet, that they would grow old together, sitting in rocking chairs with grandchildren on their laps. Mum’s hair, blonde like Gwen’s, would turn grey, her pretty face wrinkled. Dad, who shared Chloe’s chestnut brown curls, might have gone bald eventually, or he would have proudly sported thick hair of salt and pepper.
If they had been on that road only a few minutes before or after, they would have been fine. Would have maybe heard of an accident with another car, an anecdote before they carried on with their lives. At least they had died together, on the same day. Horrible for Chloe, but perhaps a comfort for them. Mum and Dad had been soulmates, everyone could see that.
For a long time, Chloe had felt angry with the old man who had driven down the wrong side of the road and crashed into them. Of all the terrible people in the world who could have died that day, why her parents? They had been good people. Normal, nice, had worked hard and loved their daughters. But the old man had been having a mental breakdown, or so Chloe had heard. He’d been confused and panicking.
It didn’t make the loss any easier to bear.
