Page 97 of The Love of Our Lives
I just hope she’s ready for everything I’ll do next.
Walking through the leafy Meadows as children play on the sun-soaked grass and runners pass me by, I can’t help thinking that, just over a year ago now, it was Emily running through these pathways.
It was me too.
And I wonder who came here a few days ago, on the actual anniversary of her death. Probably not her mum, as the official grave was in London.
But Adam?
Adam. Even his name makes me ache all over. Because it feels like only five minutes ago that I was lying beside him in bed as the sun rose on his skin, those lips I kissed a hundred times. I miss him every second of the day.
But I realised in the end I could never keep him. Never find what we had as me, Maggie in my own body, because he won’t remember a thing. And all those memories between us – as unique to us as they were – must surely all be gone, leaving nothing but his time with Emily.
The way it was always supposed to be.
I can’t help being grateful, though, that he’s still out there somewhere. I’ve looked up his upholstering website and it’s active at least, though it says he’s not taking orders over the summer. And I wonder what’s he doing instead.
It doesn’t take me long to find the bench, not too far from the children’s play park and with a view of Arthur’s Seat up to the side. Because it was here where I used to come running, where she must have run too.
I read the words on the inscription—
‘Every adventure requires a first step’
In Memory of Emily Isabella Perin, loving daughter, friend, and partner in life.
And I know, even if no one else does, that it all really did happen, some way, somehow. I lived that life, I was that daughter, that friend – that partner.
The happiest and most incredible year of my life.
‘Hello,’ a deep voice says beside me, and I turn sharply to see him – William, looking at me curiously. A year older perhaps, but no older-looking somehow. His eyes are still that pale-blue, his white hair tucked neatly back under a flat cap. He’s wearing his chinos and trainers, a light-green jacket, and my heart floods with warmth at the sight of him.
My friend.
I want to hug him but I won’t. I can’t alarm him.
‘Hello,’ I say back instead, and smile.
‘Did you know her?’ he says, roughly, but with a strangely hopeful look in his eye. ‘Emily.’
I swallow. ‘I did . . . once. We were very close’
He nods at that. ‘Well, then you’re one of the lucky ones.’
‘I know,’ I say. ‘She was inspirational.’
He lets out a small laugh. ‘Yes, she was, wasn’t she? We miss her terribly, but I still come here most days on my walk. Just to say hello to her, and we have a natter about what mischief her cat’s been up to, or what adventure I’ve had that day.’
‘That’s lovely,’ I say, trying to fight back the tears.
A beat.
‘You’re welcome to take a little memento from her flat if you like? Before the rest goes to charity, I mean.’
I turn to him sharply. ‘What do you mean, her flat? How could it still—’
‘Oh, it’s silly, really,’ William says, waving a hand at me. ‘I couldn’t bring myself to rent it again after it happened, and then I wanted to give her family the opportunity to come up and take a look around. They did eventually, after quite a few months, took a few personal items of course, but her mum was a bit ofa state at the time. I’m not sure if she really knew what she was doing. We’ve cleared most of her things into boxes and a young couple is taking the keys next week, but I could take you in for a quick look around, if you’d like?’
My heart – her heart – skips with the idea. ‘I’d love that.’
