‘They wanted you to soar,’ I say, going along with his metaphor.
‘Precisely. So they set me free,’ he smiles, his hand swooping in the air between us and he makes a ‘swooshing’ sound with his mouth.
‘Didn’t you think about coming back after your dad died?’ I ask. It’s a personal question, one that perhaps shouldn’t be asked, seeing as I’ve only met him a handful of times, but there’s this air between us – this familiarity, this openness and honesty – that propels me to delve further, to understand why my dear friend Molly, a woman with a heart of gold, was left here on her own, without the two men that she loved more than anything.
‘I did,’ Peter replies, a momentary frown forming between his brows at the question, or maybe my assumption that he didn’t. ‘I came back and mourned with Mum for a bit … but then what? Death is the one thing we can be certain of. We all know that saying. It’s drummed into us so that we’re not afraid of the inevitable outcome we all face. However, Mum didn’t want my life and dreams to die along with Dad’s. She made it clear that each of us had already lost enough, but that I had a life to live, and, just like before, she wanted to release me back into the world.’ He pauses, lost in thought for a few moments. ‘It was tough. I didn’t just leave and forget,’ he mutters, almost to himself.
‘I’m sure you didn’t,’ I gasp, hoping that’s not what he thinks I’ve been getting at.
‘I knew she was happy. Eventually, anyway …’ He stops, rubbing his lips together as he mournfully looks to one side. ‘I told you when we met last year about how she said the shop healed hearts,’ he continues, looking at me to see if I remember the conversation we’d had in my kitchen.
I nod to show I do.
‘Well, the first heart it healed was hers. Something that became even more apparent when you started working there. She had so much love for you. Right from day one. I might’ve been the bird she set free, but you were her little songbird. You lifted her heart. The shop gave her that. It gave her you. You were what she needed,’ he says, winking at me with a soft, warm smile.
A lump forms in my throat as I feel my eyes prickle.
‘Now, this is going to sound like a crazy pick-up line, and it’s not,’ he says, swiping his hand through the air between us, his eyes smiling across as me. ‘But now that I’ve met you I completely understand the effect you had on her. She loved you. I can see why.’
A grin warmly lifts on to my face. Hearing someone so close to Molly say those words makes my heart sing – although, obviously, his compliments also make me feel rather embarrassed too. I’m not used to having near-strangers say such lovely things about me.
‘She spoke about you a lot, too,’ I say, coughing the emotion away while attempting to take the focus of the conversation off me and give him comforting words back. I want to spread the feeling of Molly’s timeless, unwavering love that he’s shared with me.
‘Oh, I’ve no doubt she did,’ he laughs, the sentimental moment almost broken as his guffaw loudly rings out, causing other diners to look over from their dinners to see what was so funny. ‘I was her golden boy off travelling the world. I know she’d have been telling anyone who’d listen all she could about what I was up to,’ he admits, taking enjoyment from what he’s saying, rather than seeming annoyed Molly had shared endless information about his adventures overseas. ‘That’s probably why they feel like they know me now, because they’ve been told so much.’
‘True … plus, you’re like her.’
‘I am?’ he asks, looking genuinely shocked to hear me say it.
‘So much so,’ I frown, surprised he can’t see it.
‘Glad to see travelling the globe hasn’t rid me of my roots,’ he chuckles, picking up his beer and taking a gulp as the waiter comes over and gathers up our empty plates. Something I’m thankful for as I should have stopped picking at what was left a long time ago. I’m now more than stuffed.
‘It really hasn’t. It’s astonishing,’ I gush, stopping myself from saying that part of me feels I’ve been with Molly all night. That would probably be a little strange for him to hear.
‘I’m glad you think so,’ he beams back.
‘I hope this isn’t too … harsh, or maybe intrusive,’ I begin, trying to find the right words for the question I’m longing to ask. ‘But did you ever regret your decision?’
‘There were moments,’ he nods, looking at me as he ponders what I’ve asked. ‘I’ll admit that much, but they came and went. They never clung on for too long. I always managed to see past them.’
‘Right …’ I say, wondering if that’s how I’d have felt if I’d plucked up the courage to just leave when I was younger and was toying with the idea. I’m dubious that we’d have shared the same emotions. I don’t think anything would have made me get on that plane and fly away. My wings didn’t long to be spread. My heart had no desire to soar.
‘Well, that’s the tough reality when talking about regret,’ Peter says, his eyes narrowing and his face becoming serious and thoughtful once more. ‘I’ve always felt it’s better to regret something you did, rather than something you didn’t. “If only” is a turn of phrase I absolutely hate,’ he continues passionately. ‘Life is to be lived, so we have to go out and grab what we want. I know my parents agreed with that. They didn’t feel like I abandoned them. They gave me life, a mind of my own and a beating heart. So it wasn’t my role to be there by their side with no ambition of my own. My happiness gave them happiness, and all I hope is that my decisions made them proud.’
‘I’m sure they did,’ I say, knowing it to be true and feeling ridiculous for not being able to offer something more when he’s given a touching and intense speech. I wasn’t expecting to get such deep and profound answers from him, but then, thinking back to our previous conversations, this side of him does seem to pop up every now and then. He really isn’t the rough and rugged Aussie man he falsely bills himself as. There’s far more heart, warmth and compassion than he lets on. He is so much like Molly.
‘Funny thing is, I know Mum always hoped the right girl would come along and pin me down. But she knew timing was everything and that I’d have to be ready for it. I don’t think I realized that finding the right person would mean I didn’t feel pinned, or caged at all. That it would give me a whole new level of something else, rather than just taking away what I thought was a necessity,’ he says, looking up at me and seeming to deflate. ‘My one big regret though – despite everything I’ve just said – is that I’ll never see her be grandma to my children. I mean, I’m single and incredibly far away from that right now. It is not on my radar. But, I wish I’d seen her in that role.’
‘She’d have loved it.’
‘Yeah …’
A silence descends as the thought lingers.
I picture Molly running around and playing with her grandchildren, making them laugh with her silly ways and giving them naughty little treats like she used to do with any young child who walked through the shop doors.
A heavy sadness fills my heart. Once more I’m hit by the unfairness of life. I wish it could have been a little kinder to the lady who had given so much.
I take my glass to my lips and have a sip of the beer Peter poured for me earlier. Until now it has gone untouched, but that was before the conversation took this unexpected turn. Now I feel in need of a swig of something stronger than water.
As I do so, Peter taps his thumb on the table.
‘So, LA was good?’ he asks, rehashing the question he asked earlier in the week.
‘Really good,’ I nod, realizing it’s the first time this evening that the chat between us has felt awkward and forced. ‘You ever been?’
‘Nope. Not yet. It was never a place that appealed to me,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘You going back?’
‘I think so. Well, I will at some point,’ I admit. ‘Just not sure when yet, though.’
‘Nice,’ Peter says, raising his eyebrows at me. ‘It must be difficult. Bein
g so far away.’
‘It certainly makes things harder,’ I nod, smiling at the waiter as he hands me a dessert menu, even though I know I won’t be having one.
‘I couldn’t do it,’ Peter shares adamantly, his mouth screwing up at the thought as he looks around the restaurant. ‘But maybe that’s because I’m more selfish than you are. Or greedier. Call me crazy, but if I’m with someone I like to be with them, you know?’ he says, his eyes landing on mine.
‘Yeah … though sometimes life just isn’t that simple,’ I reason.
‘Ain’t never been a truer word spoken,’ Peter laughs, and the sound instantly lightens the mood once more.
As agreed, we go Dutch on the bill. However, Peter insists on walking me home even though I’m adamant that I don’t need a chaperone and that I feel completely safe on the streets of quiet Rosefont Hill.
Thankfully, the mood remains light and upbeat throughout our after-dinner coffees and during the short walk back to mine, leaving a friendly and warm atmosphere sitting between us.
Being out in this way, and not tucked up with a book on a Saturday night (or any night), is such a rarity for me. I think I surprised myself when I agreed to dinner without even thinking, but what’s surprised me even more is the fact that I’ve had such a lovely time. I would say I should let my guard down and do it more often, but it definitely has more to do with the actual company, rather than me just getting out of the house and doing something different for a change. It makes me wonder if years of blocking out friendships has left a gaping hole … although I’ve never felt that way before, so why should one nice dinner with a friendly man, who I’d love to see more of, make me feel any different? It’s just nice to chat to someone so great (who isn’t a family member) and is actually here in the flesh rather than thousands of miles away in another time zone.
‘Oh, Mum asked whether you wanted to come over for a Sunday roast next week?’ I say, suddenly remembering her invite the other night. Even though it’s not been discussed since, I’m sure she’d still love to have him over.
‘I’ve been gagging for a home-cooked roast!’ he says hungrily, jumping on the offer with great enthusiasm.
‘That’s what she thought,’ I laugh, getting my keys out of my pocket as we walk up the familiar driveway. ‘Well, I’ll text you in the week and let you know the plans, but we usually eat around one o’clock.’
‘Sounds perfect,’ he grins, turning up the collar of his coat in an attempt to keep out the cold that’s been nibbling away at our skin the whole walk back.
‘Great. I’ll let her know,’ I say, sliding my key into the lock and feeling the heat radiate from our home as soon as I push the door open. ‘Thanks so much for tonight.’
‘Pleasure was all mine,’ he grins, shuffling away from me, walking backwards down the driveway with his hands wedged into his pockets. ‘I’ll see you next week, if not before.’
‘Get home safe,’ I sing.
‘Will do.’
He turns on his heels and heads off into the darkness.
As I close the door behind me, I pull my phone out of my pocket just in time to find Billy calling me.
‘Mr Buskin,’ I grin, feeling a gooeyness swirl inside me.
‘Miss May,’ he softly chortles, somehow sounding relieved.
‘What are you up to?’ I ask, locking the door before bending down to take off my boots.
‘Day off. Heading to the gym with Johnny in a bit. Yesterday was such a long day that I don’t really feel like it, but I’ll feel better for going.’
‘I’ll take your word for it,’ I laugh. Having never set foot inside a gym, the very thought horrifies me. It’s not just because I hear everyone ogles at each other there despite being hot and sweaty, but because my fitness levels are appalling.
‘Good night?’ he asks.
‘Lovely. I literally just walked through the door.’
‘Nice …’ he replies thoughtfully, as though he’s about to ask more but stops himself. ‘Are you off to bed now?’ he asks, completely side-stepping the topic.
‘I will be,’ I say lightly, grabbing a glass of water and a Bounty chocolate bar from the kitchen (I don’t know how there’s any space left but seeing it on the side made me fancy it) and making my way up the stairs to my bedroom. ‘Mum’s over at Colin’s tonight, so I’m planning on curling up in bed with a film.’
‘Not The Holiday again,’ he softly mocks.
‘I’ll think about watching something different,’ I laugh, knowing I was actually thinking of doing exactly that. I know what I like and I’ve never been one to crave variety. ‘It’s just odd when neither of you are here. Anyway, I can’t have a late one, I’m up early with Mum and Charlotte.’
‘Your girlie day!’ he remembers.
‘Exactly,’ I nod, grabbing my pyjamas from the bed and doing my best to step out of my jeans and jumper before shimmying into my comfier clothes, all the while staying on the phone. ‘We’re off into town to find Mum the wedding dress of her dreams. One that probably looks almost nothing like a wedding dress but still makes her feel special.’
‘Interesting concept …’ he replies. ‘So your letter arrived this morning along with an excited one from Charlotte. She sent me some diagrams.’
‘Of what she wants Mum to wear?’
‘Exactly as you mentioned in your last letter.’
The way he says it tells me he’s grinning.
‘Ah …’
‘Can’t really imagine your mum in any of them, but Charlotte’s so particular about what she likes. She’s even put herself into something similar.’
‘Oh, I know. She’s sketching nonstop.’
‘It’s very sweet how excited she is,’ Billy says fondly.
‘She’s certainly got a vision for the day,’ I smile, loving how creative Charlotte has been and that she’s enjoyed getting involved in the planning, because as much as I know we’re all happy within the situation, I can’t help but wonder what it must be like for Charlotte and Aaron to witness their dad marry someone new. There are moments when I find it difficult to cope with, and my dad died many moons ago. But for them, it’s all a little fresher, and they’re so much younger. ‘I think I might ask Mum to try one on anyway. It’ll make Charlotte’s day. Actually, I think I’d find it pretty funny, too.’
‘It’ll be a great day. Has she mentioned any more about moving?’
‘No, but I think I should bring it up at some point. Just get it out there again. She’s probably got so much on at the moment that she’s not even thought about it.’
‘Or maybe she’s trying to bury her head in the sand like you?’
‘I must get it from somewhere,’ I agree, knowing I’ve not been very forthcoming with the topic. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s just waiting for me to ask more about it.
‘You know, we could buy it,’ Billy suggests matter-of-factly, as though buying my childhood home is no big deal.
‘Huh?’
‘It’ll be an investment. I know we haven’t got around to finding somewhere of our own yet, but it’s been on the cards for a while now. We can’t always stay at your mum’s, we need somewhere of our own.’
‘I know,’ I sigh, fully aware that most people leave home as soon as they can afford to, wanting to be free of the parents who’ve invested so much love and money into their upbringing. ‘But it’s a huge commitment.’
‘Well, I’m committed,’ he says defiantly, as if I’ve questioned our loyalty to each other.
‘As am I,’ I say, finding myself frowning as a million thoughts cloud my brain and stop it from functioning properly. It’s a simple solution, of course it is, but something about it doesn’t sit right with me and I can’t quite pinpoint what that is.
‘I’m just saying, it’s an option. That way you don’t have to say goodbye to something that means so much to you,’ Billy says, although I can barely hear him through the fog. He continues, though, my silence spurring him on. ‘I wish I’d b
ought my family home back in Surrey or urged Mum and Dad to keep it as an investment. I’ll always regret not thinking that one through.’
‘Right …’ I manage.
‘Either way, you’ve got to talk to your mum. Time to suck it up, Miss May.’
‘Maybe,’ I sigh, picking up my Mr Blobby from the bed and giving him a little squeeze.
I’ve had this cuddly toy for as long as I can remember. He’s seen me through my darkest days. Most people say that about a person or an animal, yet here I am saying it about a yellow-polka-dotted pink monster … it’s true though. I left him behind when I first moved to London and I hated it. Really hated it. I felt far better when I was back at home and we were reunited. Maybe that says more about the comfort I get from this room than the larger-than-life character from Live and Kicking! I’m not sure.
I usually hide my comfort teddy when Billy is around, or at least put him somewhere out of sight (he’s quite tattered and grimy but I can’t stomach the thought of him going into the washing machine). Whenever Billy isn’t around Mr Blobby is back on my bed, lapping up the attention.
Billy cuts into my thoughts by changing the subject. ‘So, guess what Rhonda has talked me into.’
‘Oh God, what?’ I ask, instantly worrying at what our relationship is going to have to face next.
Billy laughs at my reaction. ‘Check out @BillyBuskin on Twitter and Instagram.’
‘You haven’t.’
‘I have. Well, only just. Rhonda’s team have been trying to get my name from a couple of fans who were reluctant to hand it over until they knew it was for me.’
‘Bet they were chuffed.’
‘I’m probably sending them loads of signed stuff in thanks.’
‘Nice. So have you posted your first pic or tweet yet?’
‘No … but I’m sure Johnny will show me how to work it all when I see him. On that note, I’d better go,’ says Billy abruptly, just as I’ve flopped on to my bed and immersed myself under the duvet. ‘I was meant to be at the gym ten minutes ago.’