Page 122 of The Life We Almost Had

‘Be careful it doesn’t burst,’ I had said as Adam’s foot furiously worked the foot pump to inflate the air bed.

‘It’s nowhere near full.’ Adam’s T-shirt had been damp under the arms.

‘I didn’t mean the mattress might burst. I meant your head. Your face is bright red! For someone who plays football—’

‘I’ll have you know I’m in the best shape of my life,’ Adam had said breathlessly, taking a break. ‘All muscle.’ He patted his stomach.

‘All pizza and beer,’ I had joked, but I didn’t mind that he’d gained a few pounds since we’d met.

When he had finished inflating the bed, I’d laid on it while he put the pump back in its box. Then he’d flopped down next to me. As he landed, his weight had propelled me into the air and across the room. My arms and legs flailed for something to grip but there was nothing. I had landed with a thud, face down on the carpet.

‘Anna!’ Adam’s hands had touched my heaving shoulders. ‘Are you okay? Please don’t cry—’

‘I’m not.’ I had rolled over, tears of mirth streaming down my face. ‘Best shape of your life…’ I had howled with laughter until my ribs ached.

‘It’s not because I’m fat that you went flying through the air, it’s… physics!’ He had said, but he was laughing too. ‘You never did understand science.’

I still don’t.

As I wander from room to room, I remember, I remember it all…

Texting Adam that I was wet and miserable after my first experience running with a local keep-fit group. When I had eventually staggered through the front door, he said, ‘Told you you’d hate it. Never mind, I’ve something that will warm you up.’ He had pushed a piece of paper into my hand. On it a sketch. ‘I’ve drawn you a bath!’ He laughed.

‘Thanks for nothing.’ Unamused, I had stomped up the stairs, into the bathroom. My eyes filling with grateful tears when I saw the steaming bubble bath waiting for me.The tea lights flickering on the windowsill. The glass of chilled wine on the edge of the basin.

Downstairs, I recall the time I had come home to find the kitchen in a state, and Adam’s face in a mixing bowl.

‘What on earth—’

‘Anna.’ He had looked up, his face dripping with milk. ‘I tried to make a curry but I got chilli seeds on my fingers and rubbed my face. It’s not funny. My eyes. My skin!’ He, too, was laughing. We had ended up with a takeaway.

As I sift through our time, instead of sadness and regret I feel a sense of gratitude for the years we were together.

That despite our ups and downs we were happy.

And this is what I take from the house as I lock the door behind me for the very last time, the knowledge that life isn’t always perfect – I am not always perfect – but there are times you have to fight for what you want, and times you have to let go.

Today I am doing both. I climb into the car where Josh and Nell are singing ‘The Wheels on The Bus’ to Harry.

‘I’m ready,’ I say, and instead of looking back as Josh pulls away, I keep my eyes fixed firmly forwards.

Chapter Eighty-Two

Our leaving party is at The Star; it seems only fitting. Rather than wearing black clothes and reminiscing about the past, today the guests are wearing bright fabrics and looking towards the future.

Everyone is here, Mum, Nan. Josh’s parents have driven down. Oliver, if it weren’t for him, Harry wouldn’t be here, and Nancy, who allowed him to be mine once more. Nell’s Chris has brought their children and the pub is filled with happy chatter.

‘Shall I bring the food out?’ the landlady asks and my stomach growls in response. I’d been so busy packing up the house that I missed lunch and now I’m ravenous.

‘Please.’

Trays are carried out of the kitchen, laden with some of Adam’s favourite foods and some of mine.

Harry sits on my mum’s lap, a plate of Marmite soldiers on the table in front of him. He picks up a piece of bread and squishes it into his fist before aiming it at his mouth.

‘Marmite!’ I say to my son, opening my eyes wide and slapping my hands either side of my cheeks.

He giggles, white teeth and gummy gaps – Adam would be so proud – before smearing his buttery fingers all over Mum’s skirt, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

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