Page 109 of Forever, Maybe
The view from the window was unchanged, frozen in time. The sun, now low in the sky, cast a soft golden glow over the stark outlines of the trees. The old willow drooped as it always had, its branches sagging toward the ground like it was mourning something unseen. Beyond it, the weathered fence marked the border of what had once been the Hardys’ garden.
Nell knelt and unzipped her suitcase, pulling out her iMac and carefully placing it on the dressing table. It felt strange, setting something so modern in a space that seemed determined to stay tethered to the past. But she needed the connection to her current world, even as this house and its memories pulled her back into the person she’d been long ago.
At home, she had a proper office chair, ergonomically designed to ease the discomfort of long hours hunched over a screen. Here, in her childhood bedroom, no such luxury existed. Eight hours spent trying to work at the old desk would be torture, sending searing pains up her back, across her shoulders and into her neck.
Nell rubbed her neck now, anticipating the ache, and closed her eyes.
Crying was a luxury she didn’t deserve. An indulgence she had no right to grant herself. But Cate’s fragile state and the scarily fast unravelling of her own life forced hot tears to spill over. She sank to the floor, her fingers clutching the old, familiar shag-pile pink carpet like it could anchor her.
Just a few minutes,she told herself.Mum and Dad think I’m upstairs unpacking. I’ll pull myself together, plaster on a bit of make-up and a smile, and go back downstairs…
Below, she heard movement in the living room. The faint hum of the television flickering to life, followed by the steady, familiar cadence of Channel 4 news. Krishnan Guru-Murthy’s voice carried through the floorboards: Sweden’s Sarah Sjöström had shattered the world record in 55.48 seconds to win the gold medal in the women’s 100m butterfly at the Rio de Janeiro Olympics.
The sound blurred as her thoughts shifted.
Oh, Danny. God, I miss you.Her chest ached as she thought of him.I understand. I wish—I wish with everything in me—that I’d never done what I did. But it was…
Her fist pressed into her eyes, trying to block out the memory.What was it, exactly?
What had happened with Jamie Curtice? A drunken mistake? Yes and no. He’d just been there when the resentment she felt toward Danny and his endless work hours had reached its breaking point. It was like all her frustration had needed an outlet, and Jamie had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
And yet. And yet. And yet.
Her mind returned, as it always did, to Danny. To the Danny who’d bolted after her that night at the student union, his desperation and sincerity so obvious they were almost laughable. She could still picture him standing in front of her, his voice cracking as he spilled out the daft stuff he’d come out with in a bid to impress her.
She pressed her forehead against the carpet, willing the memory to go away. But it didn’t. It never did.
What’s that book all the lassies like? Circle of Friends? I’ve no’ read it, but my mate’s girlfriend has, and she read us bits o’ it. Sounded alri-wfy good. My mum, I’m nice to her! Flowers! They’re fantastic. Make-up’s brilliant too, and if you ever need me to buy you fanny pads, that’s fine!
The conviction she’d felt in that moment. It wasn’t just a thought or a feeling—it was something alive, something that pulsed through her body like a drumbeat. A truth that didn’t yet have words but moved through her cells, her arteries, her veins. It hardened, calcifying deep in her bones.
This. This is the man for me.
Another face swam into view, younger than Danny had been then. Freckled skin, an oval face framed by sandy-blonde hair, laughing eyes, and an overbite that pushed his top lip out just slightly.
Nelly-welly, fancy a trip to Cromer? I’ll buy you some chips…
She’d spent years working to bury him—his face, his voice, everything about him.
“Nell? Nell?” Bobby’s voice floated up the stairs, pulling her back to the present.
She grabbed a tissue, blew her nose, and rummaged through her handbag. Finding her face powder, she dusted it over her reddened cheeks, then applied a quick sweep of eyeliner, hoping the contrast would make her eyes look brighter, less raw.
Downstairs, she stepped into the back garden, where her parents were lounging in striped deckchairs. The kind of late August evening Norfolk did so well stretched out around them. The sun hung low, its golden light spilling over the garden. The air was thick with the heady scent of honeysuckle, insects buzzing lazily around the yellow-orange blooms and sparrows chattering to each other in bursts of song.
Nell sank into the deckchair next to Cate, tilting her face toward the lingering warmth of the sun. She kicked off her sandals, letting her feet sink into the cool, overgrown grass, and closed her eyes for a moment, relishing the simplicity of it all.
Bobby muttered something about getting dinner started but made no move to leave his chair.
“Yoo-hoo!”
The shout startled them all. Lorraine, Artie’s wife, had let herself in through the side gate. Dressed in her dark blue nurse’s uniform, she couldn’t have stopped at home before coming over. Nell stood as she approached.
“Hello,” Lorraine nodded briefly at her, then turned to Cate, who was struggling to sit up straighter in her deckchair.
“Don’t get up. I’m just here to check if you’re all set for tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Nell asked, glancing between them.
