Page 100 of From Now On

‘I kissed her and… I think she kissed me back, at first, but then there was a noise behind us and she shoved me away. I turned and saw Sean glaring at me and I ran out of the door. He followed me and shouted, “Nina, what the hell are you playing at?”’ Nina covers her face. ‘He sounded so angry, and Maeve… Maeve didn’t say anything then, or since. She hasn’t been in touch at all. Charlie, I… I repulsed her.’ Even now, remembering this pinches the air from Nina’s lungs. Once home Nina had texted Maeve –Sorry. I love you –but Maeve hadn’t replied. Nina had placed her heart in the palm of Maeve’s hands but she hadn’t closed her fingers around it. She hadn’t tried to hold on to it at all as it floated away. She hadn’t wanted it.

She hadn’t wanted her.

She tells all of this to Charlie, who holds her as she cries, and afterwards she is so exhausted by her tears, her emotion, she crawls under the covers.

‘Sing to me,’ she whispers.

Charlie sits on the edge of her bed and strokes her hair the way Mum used to do to her, still did to Duke right up to the accident,and probably once did to Charlie. Before he even opens his mouth she knows what he will sing.

‘All The Things You Are’.

He calls her inspirational. Loyal. Kind. And the words bypass her ears and land gently on her battered heart.

Her eyelids are drooping. Heavy.

She doesn’t make it to the end of the song.

Nina wakes in a strange bed, in a strange room. She checks the time, it’s only 10.30. How long has she been asleep? Two hours? Three? It all comes flooding back and when it does she feels, not shame, but something else. Supported. Understood. Things might never be the same for her and Maeve again but, although she might have lost her best friend, she has gained a brother. For the first time she feels she can rely on him. She listens now for his breathing but the room is silent. She rolls over, the orange streetlight outside pushes through the thin curtains illuminating the empty bed beside her.

Confused, she sits. Glances towards the bathroom. It’s in darkness, the door open.

Charlie has gone.

Chapter Forty-Seven

Duke

Duke’s mobile rings. There’s only four people who would ever call him and one of those is in the room with him. He thinks it’s probably Charlie but deep down he hopes it’s Nina.

It’s Pippa.

Duke’s stomach performs a backflip the same as it did when he’d heard middle-of-the-night knocking on his door last New Year’s Eve. The same as it did on the first day of school. The flip that tells him that even if he hopes that things will be okay, they won’t.

He’s tentative when he answers the call, expecting bad news.

And it is.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Charlie

There are so many things in Charlie’s head as he marches along the seafront, each step taking him further away from the B & B. Further away from Nina who was in such a deep sleep he doesn’t think she’ll wake until morning. He had felt so many emotions as he sang the same song to her that Mum used to sing to him when he was small. Love comes in many forms. He knows this now undoubtedly. Love is unconventional. Unpredictable. It is there in an unexpected cup of tea, a home-baked cake, a smile.

A song.

It is there in a handful of change pushed into a child’s hand, not so he can go to the arcade and keep out of his mother’s way, but so he can find a distraction in the flashing lights and enticing machines. So he can forget, just for a short while, that one of his parents didn’t love him enough to stay. But he doesn’t know if this is true anymore. Love can be separated. Compartmentalised. Pushed away and locked away.

He leans his forearms on the railings and gazes out to sea. The water is dark, the sky an orange-streaked salmon. The promise of a hot day tomorrow.

It’s still early, the pubs haven’t yet closed. He doesn’t blame Nina for falling asleep. Her night of hitch-hiking is still something they need to talk about but right now she needs to rest. He’d left her a note telling her he’s gone for a walk but he’s been stalking at brisk pace for half an hour now and it is not enough to calm him.

He needs a drink.

He glances up at the cliffs, remembers the café that has long since closed, the fizzy Coke in a bottle. He craves that sweetness now. The bubbles.

A cider.

There’s a pub ahead – the Crow’s Nest – and this is where he heads. He doesn’t need the board outside to tell him there is live music. He hears it, the woman singing something he doesn’t recognize.

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