Five Years From Now

  Ed returns and hands me my bag. ‘Thank you. You don’t have to go,’ I say quickly when he heads out the door again.

  ‘I’ll grab another drink,’ he replies.

  I stare after his departing back and then return my eyes to the screen.

  ‘He’s there late,’ Van notes with a slight frown.

  ‘He’s staying in the annexe tonight.’ I think I carry off nonchalance, but I feel slightly on edge. ‘We went out for dinner and then he came back to help me. We thought DIY would be more fun with alcohol.’

  No comment from Van.

  ‘Anyway, as I said, we were celebrating!’ I inject enthusiasm into my voice as I pull out my copy of Fudge and Smudge. ‘Ta-da!’

  ‘You’ve got finished copies at last!’ His demeanour completely transforms.

  ‘Yes!’ I tuck the tiny hardback under my chin and smile at him.

  ‘Ah, man.’ He shakes his head, blown away.

  ‘I wish you could have been there today to see them in the shop window. Ed came in early to put them out.’

  ‘I’ll see them on the weekend. Are we still going in?’

  ‘Yes.’

  We’re doing a signing at the shop – Ed has had posters made up and everything. It has been the weirdest thing, serving customers while my face – and Van’s – stares out from behind me on the wall.

  ‘I don’t know how I’m going to get through the next few days,’ I say with a sigh. The last two months have dragged by. ‘If I could fall asleep now and wake up on Thursday, I would.’

  He smiles. His eyes are even darker on the screen than in person – midnight-blue, I’ve taken to calling them in my head. ‘You should get back to Ed. Can you say thanks to him from me? I feel bad that he’s had to help you with that.’

  ‘He didn’t mind. He’s a nice guy.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He inhales sharply. ‘Love you.’

  ‘I love you, too.’

  We sign off and I sit there for a minute, feeling slightly dazed. Then I crawl to the end of the bed and gingerly navigate the ladder.

  ‘Ed?’ I call on my way downstairs.

  ‘In the kitchen. I opted for coffee,’ he says with a smile when I appear. ‘Want one?’

  He’s managed to find what he needs.

  ‘Nah, think I’ll stick to water. Van said to tell you thanks.’

  ‘It’s no trouble. It’s been fun.’

  ‘Yeah. It has.’ We smile at each other, but look away at the same time.

  ‘I don’t think I’m going to be long out of bed,’ I say with a yawn.

  ‘Me neither,’ he replies. ‘I’ll get this down me first.’ He takes a sip of his coffee.

  I linger for a moment longer, making him promise not to rush off in the morning.

  ‘I owe you a fry-up!’ I call cheerfully before ducking into the bathroom.

  ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ he calls back.

  I didn’t hug or kiss him on the cheek, which would’ve been normal and appropriate behaviour for us. It’s just that… That moment… upstairs… It wasn’t the first time it’s happened.

  Last month, I went to a birthday dinner for Ed at his flat. His brother and a few close friends came down from London. I’d met them before at his house-warming party, and they’ve all been rallying round since the split. It was a brilliantly fun night and, afterwards, I stayed back to help Ed clear up. He and I reached for an empty bottle of wine and our fingers brushed. When we met each other’s eyes, I got the same edgy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  It freaked me out for a while afterwards, but I reasoned that I was feeling lonely and neglected after a year without Van, and it was understandable that my body responded to a bit of human contact. I try to tell myself the same thing now and resolve to put it out of my mind.

  Ed knocks on the cottage door as I’m preparing to make breakfast. He chuckles when he sees the dark glasses I’m wearing.

  ‘Oh dear. That bad, hey?’

  ‘How are you?’ I ask, returning to the kitchen.

  He shrugs. ‘I’m all right. I didn’t drink that much.’ He surveys the contents on the counter: eggs, bacon, sausages, a tin of baked beans, bread… ‘What can I do?’

  ‘Nothing. I promised.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ he mutters, grabbing a knife and slitting the bacon package open. ‘Are you really going to be able to stomach all of this?’

  ‘It’s for you,’ I reply.

  ‘I’d be just as happy with a bacon butty.’

  Ooh. Maybe I do want food…

  We end up out on the patio at the bench table, sitting side by side so we’re both facing the view. It’s a gorgeous, bright morning and the tide is in, the river surface as still as glass. The mature oaks are clumped so close together from high up on the steep banks to right down by the water’s edge that their green treetops look like one big spongy mass. Birds in flight swoop under and around each other, like jet planes in a Red Arrows display, and a heron takes off from the branch of a dead tree trunk, defying gravity as its enormous wings shine white against the blue sky.

  ‘What a place to grow up,’ Ed murmurs appreciatively.

  ‘It was pretty special.’

  For the most part, I add silently to myself, thinking of the painful years after Ruth’s death when Van had left, too.

  ‘How did you cope with Luke and the water when he was little?’

  ‘We were very careful,’ I say. ‘But yeah, we should’ve put a fence up. I thought I’d sort it out for next time, but there never was a next time.’

  ‘You’re only thirty-five,’ he says.

  ‘It’s not going to happen now.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘With Van on the other side of the world?’ I cast him a look. ‘It’s always been one of his greatest fears that I’ll fall pregnant. He didn’t even meet his dad until he was seven and that’s no way to live. It would kill him to leave Libby, and there’s no way Sam would let him take her – at least, not permanently. He’d have to split himself in two.’

  I always thought I’d have at least two children close together in age. I would’ve loved a boy followed by a girl, and when Luke was born, it seemed that might become a reality. But the older Luke grew, the further away my dream drifted. Now he’s had almost ten years of being an only child.

  Maybe Nick and Stefanie will make a big brother of him, but I can’t see how I ever will. Van is rooted to Australia until Libby turns eighteen – that is the earliest he’ll consider leaving her. I can’t imagine ever leaving Luke and relocating to the other side of the world – not even when he’s an adult. I know Van is burying his head in the sand about it because the move will devastate him, but the alternative to both of us is incomprehensible.

  ‘Do you want kids?’ I ask Ed.

  ‘Yeah, I always thought I’d have a couple.’

  ‘You and Tasha never…’

  ‘We talked about it. It was supposed to be part of the plan for moving from London, but it was never the right time. I’m so glad now that we didn’t bring children into that mess.’

  ‘At least there’s no rush for you. You’re a guy.’

  ‘Thank you for that observation.’ He casts me a wry grin and polishes off the last of his breakfast.

  Four days later, I make my favourite journey in the world – driving to the airport. At least, it’s my favourite journey until it becomes my least favourite journey when I’m dropping Van and Libby off again, but I’m trying very hard not to think about that.

  Luke is in the front seat beside me and we’ve got the music turned right up. I’m singing ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ by the Glee cast at the top of my voice and Luke is indulging me. I’m probably far too old to be obsessed by this television series, but it makes me feel young. It’s the sort of thing Ellie and I would’ve watched religiously as teenagers – she’s hooked on it now, too.

  I still miss my old friend, who’s firmly rooted in Newcastle with her husband Liam and their two children, Thomas, who’s ne
arly two, and Ciara, who’s four months. They’re coming to Cornwall next week for a family holiday so we’ll catch up then. I’ve managed to tie it in with a date for our barbecue next Sunday. Brooke and Ed will both be there, although I’ve promised the latter that I won’t interfere from here on in.

  The song comes to an end and Luke turns down the volume.

  ‘You all right?’ I ask.

  ‘Can’t she sleep in with her dad?’

  I sigh heavily. ‘Come on, Luke, don’t start that again. It’ll be fun sharing with Libby. Anyway, Van will be in my room, not the annexe.’ We’ve talked about that, too…

  He huffs and stares out of the window. ‘Fine. But I’m having the top bunk.’

  ‘I thought we’d decided to discuss that when we got home,’ I say carefully. We were supposed to be keeping an open mind – I don’t know how Libby will feel about taking the bottom bunk. ‘Please be nice,’ I beg, patting his leg. ‘You know how much I’ve been looking forward to them coming.’

  He turns the music back on.

  An hour later, we’re standing in the arrivals hall and I’m trying to steady the bouncing ball of nervous anticipation ricocheting off the walls of my stomach. Luke is kicking his foot against the railing, fidgety with boredom.

  ‘Stop that,’ I berate him, ruffling his blond curls.

  ‘How much longer?’ he moans.

  ‘Any minute now.’

  He rolls his honey-coloured eyes.

  When I next look back at the door, I’m staring straight at Van.

  ‘There they are!’ I cry, fighting the urge to run to him. We’ve already agreed that we’ll keep our enthusiasm contained so we don’t freak the kids out, but by God, it’s hard. I’m giddy with joy.

  He’s heartbreakingly handsome: tall and tanned, his broad chest filling out his faded orange T-shirt and a dark-grey hoodie tied casually around his waist. His blue eyes sparkle as he approaches. I can barely drag my gaze away to smile at Libby, but then I do and, gosh, she’s so pretty. Her daddy’s eyes stare out at me from behind a wispy fringe – her hair is auburn-coloured and comes to her shoulder blades, and she’s so tall! Even taller than Luke. She’s wearing hot-pink leggings with white trainers and a light-grey hoodie covered with silver stars. She’s smiling as I step forward to hug her.

  ‘Hey, Luke!’ I hear Van say in a warm, deep voice as I prattle on to Libby about how good it is to see her. Van shakes Luke’s shoulder affectionately – they don’t hug. We meet each other’s eyes with a smile and then he steps forward and clasps my face in his hands, planting a chaste kiss on my lips.

  Nope, no way.

  I hook my arms around his waist and squeeze him hard, feeling my heart slamming into his. He feels amazing… It aches to let him go, but we do so with a meaningful stare. We’ll say a proper hello later.

  ‘Luke, you know Libby.’

  They’ve only met on FaceTime.

  ‘Hi,’ he says shyly, hanging slightly back.

  Her corresponding hello is more confident.

  ‘I can’t believe how much you’ve shot up!’ I say to her. ‘You must be the tallest girl in your year?’

  She shrugs. ‘There are two others taller than me.’

  ‘Must be all that Aussie sunshine.’

  ‘It was bucketing down when we left,’ Van says. ‘Wasn’t it, Libs?’

  ‘Yep. Is it summer here?’ She seems unconvinced, like she’s been told this fact, but will believe it when she sees it.

  ‘Supposedly,’ I reply with a grin.

  ‘It’ll be warmer than back home,’ Van promises.

  I wrinkle my nose at him. That’s not necessarily true…

  He grins at me and my heart does another somersault.

  ‘Come on, then, you cheeky little piskies,’ I say with a smile. ‘Let’s get you home.’

  Libby and Luke glance at each other and pull faces. Judging by their expressions, I won’t be able to get away with using that term of affection for much longer. I’d better make the most of it.

  Libby is a chatterbox. She talks and asks questions for most of the journey home. I keep glancing across at Van, trying to contain my laughter.

  ‘She doesn’t take after you,’ I tease when his daughter is too busy talking about Pokémon with Luke to pay us any attention. Luke is also being surprisingly animated. We don’t know where he got his usual ‘car journey quiet’ from – not Nick or me, that’s for sure. Must be my dad.

  We come to a stop at some traffic lights and I reach across and rub my knuckles along Van’s jaw. His beard is surprisingly soft. I’ve been dying to stroke it for months.

  ‘What is your mum doing to my dad’s face?’ I hear Libby ask circumspectly.

  I snatch my hand away and Van shakes his head, staring at the roof of the car as I crack up laughing.

  I have a feeling that this trip is going to be quite a bit different to the last time when it was almost entirely just the two of us.

  ‘Can I sleep in the top bunk?’ Libby asks as soon as she sees Luke’s bedroom.

  ‘Um…’ My son glances at me uncertainly.

  ‘Libs, if that’s where Luke wants to sleep…’ Van starts to say.

  ‘No, it’s okay,’ Luke interrupts awkwardly. ‘She can if she wants.’

  ‘Yay!’ She proceeds to climb straight up there.

  Luke glances at me again and I give him a questioning look. Is he sure?

  He shrugs at me.

  ‘Come up!’ Libby urges him.

  ‘Er, okay.’ Luke walks hesitantly over to the ladder.

  ‘See you downstairs when you’re ready,’ I say to them both, but mainly addressing Libby. ‘Your dad and I will be in the kitchen.’

  ‘Can we go out on the rowboat?’ Libby calls after us.

  ‘Maybe later, Libs,’ Van replies. ‘Let’s chill out here for a bit first, eh?’

  She’s already chattering away to Luke by the time we reach the stairs. I cast a smile over my shoulder at Van, but manage to wait until we’re in the relative privacy of the kitchen before throwing my arms around him. He holds me so tight that I can barely breathe, but I’m quite happy to make do without oxygen. We move to kiss each other at the same time and our lips stay locked as he walks me backwards to the kitchen counter. He lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his waist, shivers rocketing up and down my spine as we kiss each other senseless. Neither of us hears Libby and Luke appear until the former speaks.

  ‘Urgh. Grown-ups are gross.’

  We break apart, instantly. I blush madly and Van drags his hand across his face with embarrassment.

  ‘Sorry, kids,’ I apologise, mortified. ‘Who wants a biscuit?’

  ‘Me!’ they both cry simultaneously.

  I’ve turned into my dad…

  ‘Can we go on the rowboat now?’ Libby asks as I crack open a whole packet of Jaffa Cakes.

  ‘Libs,’ Van groans.

  I giggle. Like I say, I think this trip is going to be a bit different to last time…

  Libby conks out at six forty-five, having gone thirty-eight hours with only four hours’ sleep, but it’s another hour and a quarter before Luke takes to his bed with a book.

  Poor Van had even less sleep than his daughter, but he’s determined to stay awake until we can safely retreat to my room. We sit in the kitchen and talk while his eyes grow heavy-lidded with exhaustion.

  I reach across and trace my fingertip across the scar on his eyebrow, my insides contracting.

  He swipes my hand and kisses the tips of my fingers. He doesn’t want to dwell on his surfing accident. We’ve been over and over it on the phone.

  ‘Sorry you have to wait so long to take me to bed,’ I say.

  ‘You’re worth waiting for,’ he replies.

  ‘Ohhh, so corny!’ I crack up laughing. ‘You should be the writer, not me.’

  ‘How’s the next story going?’ he asks with a grin.

  ‘Slowly. I’ve been too excited about you coming to write.’

  ‘
Has Ed seen any of it?’

  ‘Before you?’ I frown. ‘No.’

  He regards me thoughtfully and I experience a small, strange stab of guilt.

  ‘Did you bring your art gear?’ I ask.

  He nods. ‘I brought a couple of recent illustrations, too. I wondered if Luke might like them for his room.’

  ‘That’s a great idea! We’ll get them framed.’

  He smiles and leans forward in his seat, taking my other hand, too. We stare at each other for a long moment.

  ‘Come here,’ he says eventually, pulling me towards him. I straddle his lap and he cups my face in his hands, kissing me.

  ‘Bugger this, let’s go to the annexe,’ I mutter. ‘I’ll turn the old baby monitor on so we’ll hear Luke if he comes downstairs.’

  We hurry outside, not bothering with shoes, and as soon as the door’s unlocked, I’m up against the wall.

  ‘What is that?’ he asks, sliding his mouth away from mine.

  ‘A surf board.’

  ‘Yeah, I can see it’s a surf board, Nell.’

  ‘Nick left it for you to borrow while he’s abroad.’

  ‘God, I love your husband.’

  ‘Ex-husband,’ I correct as Van picks me up and carries me to the bed.

  The shock of our bare skin colliding reverberates throughout every inch of my body. It feels achingly good to be close to him again and we don’t waste time with foreplay – the last twelve months have been more than enough.

  Van conks out straight afterwards and I kiss his forehead and let him be, pulling on my clothes and returning to my room so I’ll be nearby if and when the kids wake up. But in the middle of the night he climbs into bed with me. I wake up in his arms.

  On Friday, it’s Nick and Stefanie’s wedding. Luke is the ring bearer and I’m bursting with pride at the sight of him standing beside his dad at the register office. He looks so grown-up.

  Nick and Stefanie are heading off on their honeymoon tomorrow for two weeks, leaving the pub in the hands of Drew, who’s returned home from Buckinghamshire with his wife and two children for the summer. Drew is a sports therapist now, and it’s good to catch up with him and his family.

  The next day is Saturday and time for our one and only book signing. The kids are excited, but Van and I are nervous. We have no idea if anyone will turn up to the shop, but Ed has asked us to sign the stock in any case, so it won’t be a wasted journey.