Page 44 of The Art of Loving You

‘Stop.’ I placed a hand over my forehead. ‘You’re not making things any clearer.’

‘Sorry.’ Faith turned around the picture and when she did I covered my mouth with shock. ‘I wanted to know if he’d told you that he’d tracked down the place and that he wanted to take you back there? Told you why?’

Lightly, I touched the painting, running fingertips over the oils. It was the spot in Norfolk where Jack had first told me he loved me. He had captured the landscape perfectly, the brilliant sun bouncing off glistening waves. The lighthouse stood to the right. In the foreground the wind was whipping the long grasses we had made love in and, underneath the greenery, if you knew what you were looking for, you could just make out the silver glint of the manhole cover that led to the bunker, a hidden world that nobody knew about. I could smell the salt. Hear the gulls. Feel Jack’s hand in mine.

On the top of the painting, trailing in a plane’s frothy trail, written in beautiful swirling dark blue letters across a bright blue sky was ‘Please will you’.

‘Please will you?’ Puzzled I looked at Faith.

‘He hadn’t quite finished it.’

‘What was the end of that sentence going to be?’

‘Libby …’ Faith shook her head sadly.

‘Please what?’ I demanded. ‘Tell me, Faith.’

And when she did, my heart broke all over again.

Chapter Sixteen

Jack had been going to propose. I knew it, hoped for it at least, but to have it confirmed cut me deeply. He had planned to give me the painting on our anniversary. That was why he’d been so eager to go to the studio that weekend, both to finish it off and to bring it home. Not only was he going to propose, he’d spoken to a celebrant about conducting a ceremony at our special place in Norfolk, made enquiries at the registry office about signing the paperwork before we went so it was all legal. Faith had been on hand to help finalise the details once he had spoken to me about it all.

She held me while I cried and even when she’d gone I couldn’t pull myself together. After staring at the picture most of the night, in the early hours of the morning I carried it to one of the spare rooms on the third floor, as far away as possible, and shrouded it with a sheet. I just couldn’t deal with looking at it knowing what it signified.

Forever.

It’s not as though you were married, Jack’s mum had said, but we would have been. We could have had the wedding and children and the happily ever after. I tossed and turned in my lonely bed, teetering on the precipice of sleep before being wrenched away from slumber.

I could smell Jack’s aftershave.

Sense his presence.

‘Jack?’ I fumbled for the lamp. Honey light cast shadows on the wall. A flicker. A movement in the corner catching my eye. It was the curtain moving in the breeze that pushed through the gaps around the sash window.

The room was empty.

I was alone.

Of course I was alone. I breathed in deeply, desperately, trying to recapture the smell of aftershave but it had been a figment of my imagination, a hopeless desire.

Eventually I snatched a few scant hours of fitful sleep and now Alice was here to pick me up. Our journey to the hospital for her scan was silent. Alice had one hand on the wheel, the other at her mouth as she nervously chewed her fingernails. I didn’t reassure her that everything would be fine because Jack had taken all my promises with him.

It wasn’t until we’d parked and were walking towards the hospital that Alice asked, ‘What did Faith want yesterday then?’

‘She …’ I glanced at her. Her attention wasn’t on me but on the appointment letter in her hand. I didn’t want to tell her that Jack was going to propose, it wasn’t the right time or place. Instead I shared, ‘Faith and Michael are moving away.’

‘What? Running away?’ she said bitterly, glancing at me. ‘I mean what are you supposed to do with the house and the studio and everything now without Faith’s help?’

‘I don’t know. I want to try for Jack … For Liam—’

‘No, Libby,’ Alice said. ‘It has to be for you. What doyouwant?’

‘I don’t know. I’d have to get all the contractors back and—’

‘I could help. If you wanted to go ahead. I can organise and make calls and … I don’t know.We can figure it out together. We don’t need Faith and Michael. We have each other. You and me, we’re a team. And the baby. We’ll muddle through it all, won’t we?’

She scratched furiously at her wrist.

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