Page 71 of The Love of Our Lives
I don’t know why exactly but I already feel I can trust this woman who I’ve technically just met, but feel insanely close to, in a way I just couldn’t with Emily’s mum. And if she says it’s better for me here, I think I have to listen.
‘It’s not my decision to make,’ she says eventually and her expression softens. ‘You know Colin and I always wanted kids . . . but it never quite happened for us. You were like a daughter to me, Emily, so all I want is for you to be happy. And if that’s here in London, then that’s lovely. You achieved such an incredible amount in such a short space of time, and you have great friends too. A great life. But if it’s Edinburgh, or anywhere else you pick, then that’s also wonderful. The main thing is to make your own mind up about your life, whatever that may be, and stop doing what someone else thinks you should.’
‘Even you.’ I say, mischievously.
‘Even me.’ Jackie grins, and if you do that, then you’ll never have anything to properly regret. Things can go wrong – they will go wrong – but as long as we know we followed our heart, and weren’t just dictated by fear, we can rest easy. Because this life goes by much quicker than you’d think . . .’ She reaches for my hand now. ‘Your mother will get there eventually. Just give her time.’
I squeeze her hand back. ‘Thank you,’ I say, even though I want to say that we’re running out of time much quicker than she knows.
She looks at my hand, up at me, squints. ‘You seem different somehow.’
I swallow. ‘Well, I suppose I have been away for a while.’
She shakes her head. ‘No, it’s not that . . . oh, I’m just being silly, aren’t I? You’re still my darling Emily and always will be. Just maybe give me a call the next time you disappear, even if you can’t call your mum.’
I look up to see tears in her eyes now and realise in this moment, just how loved Emily was, by so many people. I can’t bear the idea of putting them through more grief.
But it’s not my choice.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I won’t do it again.’
‘Good.’ Jackie says, wiping a tear away. ‘Now, will you stay overnight then?’
‘Sure,’ I say, curious to spend a little more time here.
Jackie nods, pleased. ‘Well, your room’s all made up. I’m just popping out to meet a friend for coffee,’ she says, getting up, ‘but I’ll be back for tea later. Maybe we can watch one of those silly—’
‘Horror movies,’ I finish softly, as that new detail about Emily drifts back to me, and she smiles. ‘Sounds great.’
She gets up to clear the bowls away, before I stop her. ‘I’ll sort this out.’
Jackie cups my cheek with her papery hand. ‘You were always such a thoughtful girl.’
It feels odd once she’s gone, as though I’m a stranger in someone else’s home, but it doesn’t take long before it all comes back to me fully – the cream, untouchable drawing room to the right of the entrance hall; the shiny, mahogany dining room to the left; the study and the cold conservatory; the annex for Jackie at the back, and the six huge bedrooms upstairs, including Emily’s childhood bedroom. When I walk in, I immediately feel her, not in the ivory walls or the perfectly neat white bed (both chosen by her mother, I can tell) but in the colourful jewellery still hanging off one of those branch things, in the butterfly cushion sitting on a beige chair and the turquoise rug by her bed; the general warmth in this room, which lingers on.
A solitary print hangs on the wall with a quote that says, ‘Every adventure requires a first step’, fromAlice In Wonderland. There’s a photo on the bedside table too, which I go to pick up now. It’s of Emily with her parents when she was younger – maybe eleven or so – and she actually looks really happy in it; they all do. Emily’s pulling a silly face and her mum has her head tipped back in laughter. Her dad is grinning to the side, and just behind it, I see something I think I know. The outline of a cobbled archway, and a sign.
Dunbar’s Close, I whisper, as the memories finally trickle back – coming up to Edinburgh and visiting the castle, skipping down the Royal Mile and going down all the little closes, until I found the one I loved the most. It was a rare weekend my parents weren’t working, so they let me choose any activity I wanted and eat wherever I pleased. We grabbed pizza slices for lunch and waffles for tea. We stayed up watching movies together at the hotel, and for just a moment in time, we slowed down.
It became my favourite place.
So that’s why you went up there, I think at the exact same time. Almost as though the two sets of thoughts are merging into one, and I shiver.
But did you stay?
Flopping down on the bed, I stare up at the ceiling, only to find a dreamcatcher floating gently above my head.
And as I look up at it, I get the sense that she once lay here, debating what to do too.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
‘E!’ Fran says, running across the private dining room towards me at lunchtime the next day. The place is incredible, with murals across the ceiling and heavy gold drapes at the tall Georgian windows. A long table down the middle of the room is covered in silverware and candelabra.
‘Oh my gosh,’ she gushes, pulling me towards her, ‘I can’t believe you’re actually here.’
‘I can’t believe I’m actually here either,’ I say into her silky hair. She smells of expensive perfume and something else that I instinctively just know.
Pulling back from me, I take her in, the beautiful knee-length green dress, with its silky wraparound front and capped sleeves, which highlight her lean, tanned arms, the golden brown of her eyes.
