Never Forget You, page 13
His mouth twisted into something approaching a smile. It wasn’t lost on him that Lili had promised him that too, to never forget him, and yet, here she was standing right in front of him, having done exactly that.
God, he wished he hadn’t let her talk him out of abandoning his year of travel. Yes, it had reaped huge rewards in terms of his career, but it hadn’t outweighed what he’d lost.
‘Well … I suppose this is goodbye.’ She smiled, but the light in her eyes dimmed a little. ‘Norina’s rustled up a little daypack for me for my clothes, so I’m heading over to the B&B in a minute to collect it before I catch the bus at four.’
She made a hesitant move and then raised her arms and gave him a hug. It started out awkwardly, but after a second or so, they clung to each other. Ben felt something inside himself soften and release, something that had been wound tight, yet he hadn’t even realised had been there.
‘I’ll miss you …’ she mumbled as they held onto each other. ‘For a little while, you were the only person I knew in the whole world.’ She squeezed him a little tighter, then pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before pulling away, looking down at the carpet.
‘Bye. Have a good journey …’ His words sounded hollow to his own ears. So trite and meaningless in comparison to all the big declarations he had locked away inside.
‘See you,’ she said, holding a hand up to say farewell.
‘Wait!’ he said as she turned to go. She stopped, looked at him. ‘Have you bought your bus ticket yet?’
‘No.’
‘Then at least let me drive you to Glasgow. I won’t really be happy until I see you board that train with my own eyes.’
She gave him a huge smile, and he felt his insides light up in response. ‘That would be amazing. I was a bit worried about getting the bus on my own and then finding my way to Glasgow Central for the train. Norina gave me a map, but …’
‘Well, how about you go and get ready, and I’ll see you at about four?’ That should leave enough time for the ninety-minute journey, and he’d be able to pick Willow up from school before he left.
‘See you then. Thanks, Ben.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
Eight months before the wedding.
AFTER MY PART in the performance, I hid, tucking myself behind one of the wings, earning myself more than a few puzzled looks from the dancers that flowed past me on and off the stage as the rest of the show continued. I truly didn’t know whether I should laugh or cry.
I’d used to think that freezing in front of an audience was the worst possible thing that could happen to me, that I would die of shame and embarrassment if I did it again, yet not only was I still living and breathing, I’d managed to pick myself up and carry on.
But then I’d think about Justin’s face as he’d silently pleaded with me to save him from whatever backstage disaster had occurred, how I’d completely failed to do that, and my stomach churned. How was I ever going to face him?
I was supposed to meet him once the programme had ended, but I dithered, waiting until the stage manager shooed me out.
The large foyer in front of the theatre was being used as a bar area, and it was packed. I slithered in, avoiding anyone’s gaze, and spotted Justin all the way over on the far side of the room.
I paused behind one of the large pillars, trying to work out the least conspicuous route, and accidentally began eavesdropping on a discussion happening on the other side of it.
‘That first piece of the night was …’ a deep male voice said, trailing off to find the right word. Unseen, I winced as I waited for him to finish his sentence.
‘Oh, I know!’ a soft female voice replied. ‘It was utter brilliance.’
I blinked. Surely, I couldn’t have heard that right?
A third voice joined them. ‘The way Justin used the sound – and then the absence of it – defying our expectations, was astonishing. It really added intensity to the message of the movement.’
‘I thought so too,’ the man replied. ‘And Haru Morishita’s performance was breathtaking. I don’t know why Justin didn’t finish with that. It was clearly the strongest piece.’
I turned and pressed my back against the cold plaster of the pillar, my mouth hanging open. I must have emerged from backstage into a parallel universe because these people clearly hadn’t been watching the same performance I’d been part of.
I brushed my confusion aside and sought Justin out again. Sliding through the gaps in the bodies, I made my way over to where he was standing and ended up hovering behind him, not knowing how to break into the conversation.
After a few moments, Justin turned to replace his empty champagne flute on a waiter’s tray, and he caught sight of me. I held my breath. Even if all these people were fooled, thinking the gap in the music had been part of some brilliant creative plan by the choreographer, he and I knew the truth. Felix would probably be upset, and that wouldn’t please Justin either.
But his eyes held none of the disappointment I’d sensed when he’d been sitting in the front row. He leaned in, kissed my cheek warmly, slid a hand around my back, and introduced me to the group he’d been talking to.
The rest of the evening went past in a blur. Person after person came up to Justin and wanted to congratulate him on his innovative choreography. His hand was on my waist the entire time, guiding me from one group to the next, introducing me with glowing terms. Every so often, he’d lean in to whisper something in my ear or to kiss me on the cheek. Gradually, my nerves subsided to a manageable level.
I didn’t deserve this man. I’d let him down tonight, I knew I had, but he was being nothing but lovely, and I knew, despite the disappointment he must be feeling on his own behalf, that he understood what a breakthrough this was for me. However, it wasn’t until we were in the car he’d booked to take us back to his flat that I was able to talk to him properly about what had happened during the performance.
Not long after the driver pulled away, I turned to him. ‘I’m so sorry. I tried my best, I really did. Maybe I’d have been okay if the track had played, but—’
‘Do you mind if we don’t talk about it right now?’ His voice was so soft I could barely hear it. I’ve been putting on a good show, but I have a pounding headache.’ Then he turned his face to the window, closed his eyes, and rested his forehead on the glass.
I sat with my hands folded in my lap and stared at the windscreen between the headrests of the front seats. He was more disappointed than I’d realised. Tears welled behind my lashes. Of course it was okay if he didn’t want to talk. After the mess I’d made of things, he didn’t owe me anything. But I owed him. Big time. He’d put his trust in me, and I’d let him down. I refused to blink and allow the tears to fall. It would have been selfish to let them.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Now.
WILLOW CAME RUNNING down the steps of the B&B waving a grey knitted beanie. ‘Uncle Ben! Wait! You forgot your favourite hat!’
‘Thanks, sweetheart.’
Alice had been about to get into the passenger seat of the car, but she paused to watch as Ben knelt so Willow could put his hat on for him and rose again with it almost covering one eye. He gave Alice a lopsided smile over the roof of the car as he adjusted it.
A thin pair of arms then came around Alice’s middle and squeezed her hard. She looked down to find Willow looking up at her. A lump rose in her throat.
‘Bye, Alice,’ Willow said, holding onto her even more tightly. ‘Will you come and visit us again, you know, when you’ve got your proper name back? And what if it is Moana? That would be really funny!’
‘It would,’ Alice agreed, ‘and I’d like to come back to Invergarrig one day.’
Norina peeled Willow from around Alice’s waist. ‘Come on, wee miss. They’ve got to get going.’ And she leaned in and gave Alice a one-armed hug, then picked Willow up to sit on her hip, giving the little girl a kiss on the head as she did so.
Alice’s heart contracted, and her eyes began to sting. ‘Thank you so much,’ she said. ‘I’ll miss you both.’ It seemed a strange thing to say, seeing as she’d only known them for a few days, but it was true. And then it was time to get in the car, strap herself in, and wave goodbye.
Driving over the humpbacked bridge that led out of Invergarrig opened up a whole new world to Alice, full of new sights and experiences. There were high mountain passes, snow-capped peaks, even a stag watching from an overlooking rock as they drove on the road below, but soon enough, they entered the urban sprawl of outer Glasgow. By the time they reached the station, she was exhausted. Every sound, shape, colour and smell was something new for her freshly scrubbed brain to process.
They stopped a short distance from the wide bank of digital departures boards. She pulled her phone from her bag and snapped a photo of the board that said ‘London Euston 18:40’ then tucked it into the back pocket of her jeans, noticing that the digital clock said it was five fifty-five. In just over half an hour, she’d have to say goodbye to Ben too, something that made her feel more and more nervous the longer she thought about it. What if he was right after all? What if she should stay in Invergarrig and wait for other people to sort her life out for her, find out who she was?
They wandered around the station for a bit, killing time exploring the shops, but ended up back in front of the departures board. Her attention was snagged by the giant digital display hanging next to it. An ad for Glasgow Botanic Gardens ended, and one for an upmarket hotel began to play. There were shots of a grand facade and luxurious rooms in the slideshow, followed by a shot of a bride and groom embracing each other in the formal gardens. As she watched, it felt like all the blood drained from her body and then – boom! – an image appeared in her mind, so clear and fresh it was as if someone had hooked her brain up to an HD video feed.
‘Are you okay? You’ve gone as white as a sheet.’ Ben’s hands hovered near her, as if he thought he might need to catch her falling body at any second. To be honest, his assessment wasn’t far off.
She grabbed onto his arm, shaking her head, and he steered her to one of the solid banks of metal chairs and helped her sit down. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked softly as he crouched down in front of her.
Alice looked back at him. Her mouth moved a couple of times before she managed to form words. ‘I think … I think I just remembered something.’
‘About here? This station?’
‘I don’t think so … I was in a … in a …’ The image was fluttering around in her head like an elusive butterfly. She screwed up her face in an effort to pin it down and turn it into words. ‘I saw a wedding shop … a boutique. There were all these dresses hanging up, and there was a mirror … I was standing on the sidelines while a bride tried on her dress, but when I tried to focus on her face, it all just kind of …’ She wiggled her fingers, mimicking the way the final part of whatever she’d seen had disintegrated and shimmered away. ‘Oh, god … I think I’m going to be sick.’ She leaned forward a little and concentrated on taking in slow, deep breaths, which was no mean feat, given that her heart was racing at three hundred miles an hour.
‘I’ll see if I can find something to—’ Ben frantically looked around. ‘Where’s a rubbish bin or a plastic bag when you need one?’ Failing to spot either, he pulled his grey beanie from his head and held it out, open and upside-down, which made her want to cry, and that wouldn’t help at all. She sucked in a little more of the stale station air, then said shakily, ‘I think it’s passing … Thank you.’
‘Hold onto this, just in case.’ He pressed the hat into her hands.
She nodded reluctantly but clutched onto it, the wool soft against her fingers. ‘A bridal shop … That has to confirm I’m on the right track.’ She paused to pat her bag, where the wedding invitation was safely stowed. ‘If I was there for a dress fitting, I must know the bride well. I might even be a bridesmaid. This is a good sign, isn’t it? It shows my memory might be starting to come back.’
Ben did not look the least bit convinced. ‘Yes, it could be a memory. But you can’t be sure about that yet. It might be better to wait and see if it happens again, if you get something more concrete before—’
Just at that moment, the Tannoy above their heads sprang into life. Alice didn’t really pay attention until the word ‘London’ drifted past her ears. She quickly glanced at the departures board, willing her eyes to focus properly, and there it was – the 18:40 – now boarding on platform five.
‘Time to go,’ he said. ‘That’s your train.’
She pushed herself to stand but reached out for the solid metal arm as she did so, clamping her lips together. For a moment, she really thought she might need to make use of his hat, but then the rolling sensation passed, and she smiled weakly at him. ‘It’s okay. I’m good …’
Ben stared back at her, looking most perturbed. ‘No. You are not good.’ But his tone wasn’t hard and frustrated as it had been in Norina’s garden; it was warm, concerned.
She reached for her little bee pendant, felt the curve of the wings for comfort, and saw his expression change from worried to … she wasn’t sure what. It just looked as if he’d made a decision about something.
‘I can’t let you get on that train on your own,’ he said. ‘I can’t just walk away. Not again …’
Not again? But she didn’t have time to ask him what he meant. ‘Ben, I know you’re right, but … I need to go. I need to find out who I—’
‘I know,’ he said, glancing around the station, then pulled his wallet from his pocket. ‘Which is why I’m coming with you. Stay here …’ And then he started jogging in the direction of a bank of self-serve ticket machines.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Seven months before the wedding.
JUSTIN AND I never really did talk about what happened at the preview of his new show. I prepared myself for a big heart-to-heart, tearful apologies, great make-up sex … But none of it came about. If I tried to raise the subject, he’d merely kiss me on top of my head and say I should just forget it.
However, my ‘mistake’ had caused problems that rippled out from that night and affected everything. We’d both agreed I shouldn’t try to play live when the programme ran at Sadler’s Wells, but if they played the track I’d recorded before the preview, people would hear the difference. If anyone guessed it had all been a giant cock-up, Justin’s glowing early reviews about his innovative use of sound would seem hollow. The only solution was to get a new version of the track edited so it mimicked what had happened that night.
Surprisingly, my part in the performance hadn’t damaged my career prospects. I was approached by another choreographer who’d been in the audience who wanted me to work on a project with her. It wasn’t the path I’d envisioned for myself when I’d begun at the Conservatory, but I was starting to realise there were other ways to play professionally, and I was excited about working on smaller projects with other creative people, rather than feeling lost sitting in the middle of an orchestra.
Justin was thrilled for me, of course, said we should go out to celebrate when we had a night free, but then the shows began at Sadler’s Wells in early July, overshadowing everything. I knew this was a big deal for him, so I attended every single night, even though I usually had to sit alone because he was dashing around backstage and would often watch from the wings, only occasionally managing to slide into the auditorium and stand at the back.
When we returned home after the third performance, Justin slammed the front door behind us. He strode into the living room and threw his keys on the coffee table. They skidded across the glass surface and landed on the rug on the other side. ‘It was a hot mess! Did you see how the principal dancer messed up her solo on the final piece?’
‘I’m sure no one will notice. And the applause afterwards was just as loud as it has been the other nights.’
I hadn’t realised that Justin had been careful to invite only friends and supporters, along with a few ‘nice’ critics, to the preview performance. The reviews that had come out in the last couple of days had not been so complimentary.
‘They’ve got their knives out,’ he said darkly, heading for the sideboard that contained the spirits. ‘Just like they always have. Because once someone is successful, they have to knock them down again.’ He pulled out a bottle of brandy and poured himself a glass, offered one to me.
‘I don’t like it, remember?’
‘Don’t start picking at me, Angel, not after the night I’ve had.’
‘I’m not! I … Sorry.’ I led him to one of the large sofas that stood in the middle of the living room and sat down next to him. He took a large gulp of brandy, placed his glass on the coffee table, then closed his eyes and let his head loll back on the sofa cushions. ‘I wouldn’t be so frustrated if I hadn’t just given the whole company a good talking to. They’re just not working hard enough, especially Diya … I should never have promoted her to principal. It’s as if she deliberately wants to ruin things for me.’
I leaned across and snuggled into him. ‘Remember what you say to me …? Don’t let what others say upset you. Who cares what the critics say?’
‘I do,’ he said wearily, not opening his eyes. ‘They were vicious about my last show … “Justin De la Hay is going stale, churning out the same old dances, rehashed with different lighting and different costumes.” Or how about, “De la Hay was the enfant terrible of the dancing world when he first arrived on the scene, but now he’s settled into conservative hum-drum”.’ He opened his eyes, sat up and looked at me. ‘If the Arts Foundation no longer thinks I’m a trailblazer, they might cut my funding, and I can’t afford to float the company on my own – I plough enough money into it as it is. It could be the end of my career!’
‘I’m sure it won’t. The reviews haven’t been all bad.’
He humphed, reached for his glass, then stood up and began to pace on the wide stretch of floor between the back of the sofa and the window. ‘They like that first piece,’ he said, staring out into the night beyond the glass.
