Never Forget You, page 16
He turned to face me. ‘You really don’t need to go busking any more. I have enough money for both of us.’
‘I know. But you also said you thought it would be good if I contributed, and until more session work comes in …’
‘It’s hardly worth it. I mean, it’s just pin money.’
I thought about the notes and coins in my violin case, and I knew he was right, but it still felt as if he was squashing my accomplishment. And it wasn’t just about money; it was about healing, moving forwards, getting stronger.
I decided to try and jolly him out of his dark mood. ‘I made enough for a decent bottle of wine. I’ll treat you.’
He sighed and turned to face me. ‘You only get that kind of cash because the men in the audience think you’re stunning. Remember that I’ve been there … I’ve seen them watching you.’
I blinked, taken aback. First, I wasn’t stunning – I’d have placed myself at ‘distinctly average’ on the beauty scale – and second, I hoped there was a more important reason people threw money into my violin case. However, I knew Justin could get a little insecure because of his ex-wife’s infidelity, so I ignored the edge in his voice and looped my arms around his neck.
‘You used to be one of those men, remember?’ I smiled up at him, willing him to laugh along with me. ‘You didn’t seem to mind it much then.’ I kissed him on his lips softly, and he closed his eyes, so I kissed each of his eyelids too, and his arms came around me, pulling me even closer.
‘That’s kind of my point,’ he said wearily into my ear. ‘I just can’t …’
‘Shh … It’s okay. I understand. But it’s you I love. I promise you I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Can I ask you something? A favour?’
I rested my head against his shoulder. ‘Anything. You know that?’
‘Will you stop?’
I raised my head to look at him. ‘Stop what? Stop this …’ and I began to move my hand up his thigh. However, the look he gave me was so heartbreakingly forlorn, I paused.
‘Will you stop busking? I know I’m an idiot … And I know I’m not being reasonable, but I just can’t stand the thought of other men looking at you that way, wanting you the way I want you … wanting all of you.’ And he pulled me into his arms and crushed me against his chest, his breathing ragged.
‘I … Justin …’ I understood what he was saying, but even though I’d just said I’d do anything for him, I felt a kernel of resistance inside. ‘It’s really not fair of you to ask that. I’ve never even looked at another man since we’ve been together. And you know how much busking means to me … It’s the only way I can properly let off steam.’
He moved me away from him, and suddenly there was cool air between our bodies. ‘I thought you said you loved me.’
‘I do!’
‘Then can’t you do this for me? I do so much for you.’
I looked down at my feet. He was right. He did do so much for me. Wasn’t I always thanking my lucky stars how supportive and encouraging he was? He’d made it possible for me to follow my dreams.
Was I being selfish?
He slid off the stool, took his wine glass and walked across the room to stand in front of the vast fireplace. ‘I didn’t want to say this, but all the time you’re putting your creative energy into busking, it’s diverting it from other things you could be doing – should be doing. It’s a safety net, and you need to get rid of it. You need to be brave, not weak, Angel. You’ve got to push yourself to do more than the things you find easy, palatable. That’s not what a true artist does.’
‘You think I’m weak?’
He gave me a pleading look as I walked towards him. ‘Not weak, but … I just think you’re very afraid sometimes. You’re not going to get anywhere unless you push yourself. Look at the preview … You did more than you ever thought you could do, even if it was a shaky start. I knew it was a better decision for you to play live instead of using the track.’
Did he have a point? I thought I’d been doing so well, but was I still a scared little girl, hiding from what life wanted to give me? But then something he’d said snagged my attention. ‘What do you mean, “instead of using the track”? I was supposed to play along with the track and something went wrong. There was no “decision” to do that … Was there?’
Justin shrugged noncommittally.
‘Justin …’
He took a sip of his wine, breaking eye contact as he did so. I could read him well enough by now to sense there was something he wasn’t telling me. But what could …?
Oh.
An icy feeling began to bleed through me, my instincts catching onto something a couple of seconds before my conscious brain registered it. ‘Did you …? Did you tell them not to play the track? On purpose?’
He wouldn’t meet my eye.
‘Oh, God … I can’t …’ I walked away, back to the windows and placed my palm on my abdomen to quash the vaguely breathless feeling creeping over me. I felt like I was a snow globe, like someone had just picked me up and shaken me violently, and now everything inside me was flurrying in different directions. ‘You did, didn’t you?’
For a long moment, Justin said nothing, and then he blinked slowly and turned to look at me. His face was unmoving, his eyes expressionless. ‘Yes, okay. I did it. I told them not to play the track.’
‘Why? Why would you do that?’ The tears were thick in my voice. ‘You knew how terrified I was, and you didn’t even warn me! You left me standing there like a lemon, and then I …’ I trailed off as my brain started working overtime, thinking back to that night and the conversations we’d had since, trying to piece it all together like a rather complicated puzzle. ‘You blamed me for messing up!’ I let out a hollow laugh. ‘And look where it got you! If you’d played the track as planned, it wouldn’t have mattered that I’d made a mistake! It would never have been a problem.’
‘Angel, you’re becoming hysterical.’
I stared back at him, hardly knowing what to think or say.
I did have a tendency to go off at the deep end when I got wound up and, yes, I was getting emotional, but I had good reason: the man I thought was my rock, my foundation, had just admitted to sabotaging me. He’d known how terrified I was about even being on stage that night, and he’d done it anyway.
I didn’t understand how he could be so calm, so unemotional. This was our first fight, and I was hating every second of it.
He put his wine glass down and came closer, laid a hand on my shoulder. ‘I did what we agreed. You said you were feeling confident, that you wanted to do it for me …’
I shook his arm off. ‘I didn’t say that.’
‘You didn’t?’
I thought back to that night, to the few words exchanged between us as we arrived at The Fire Station. ‘Okay, I may have said something like that, but that wasn’t what I’d meant. You knew that.’
He looked wounded. ‘Those were your exact words. When I asked you if you’d do it, you said, “I want to – for you. I really do … ” Don’t you remember?’
I stared back at him, unable to either nod or shake my head. ‘No …’ I murmured, even though I couldn’t quite get the whole thing straight in my head.
He stepped towards me. ‘And I think it’s unfair to blame me if you were overoptimistic. If you’d have said no, I’d have gone with it. But you didn’t.’
I shook my head. ‘I’m sure I did!’
‘You really didn’t.’
It was true, I realised. I hadn’t actually said the words, but thinking back, I could see the expression on his face, the nod that signalled his tacit acceptance of my refusal before we’d walked into the foyer. I knew I was right about that, no matter what he said.
‘I’m finding these accusations of yours really quite hurtful, Angel. Like I said earlier, I did it for you, not me. Haven’t I been your biggest supporter? I mean, I gave you the job in the first place. And now you’re doubting me?’
He was turning this back on me so that I was in the wrong?
I stared at him. Who was this man? Where was the Justin I knew and loved?
He turned and headed for the bedroom at that point, effectively ending the discussion. ‘If we don’t start getting ready now, we’re going to be late to meet your parents.’
And just like that, it was over. For him, at least. Dumbfounded, I followed him, then watched him peel off his practice clothes and pull a suit from the dressing room rail.
I stood there, aware of nothing but my own heartbeat for a few moments, and then I said, ‘Actually, I think it’s better if I go on my own.’
Justin stopped, one foot in a trouser leg. ‘What do you mean?’ For the first time since we’d started arguing – well, not exactly arguing; he’d been too calm for that – since we’d been disagreeing about this whole situation, he looked worried.
I took a breath, tried to calm myself down. ‘I mean it’s probably a good idea to give ourselves a bit of breathing space, and I don’t want to spoil Dad’s night with an atmosphere.’ Before he could argue with me, I picked up my bag and walked out the door.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Now.
ALICE READ THE hotel sign overhead – Travel Inn, Penrith. Tiny, pale flakes spiralled in the air above her head. ‘It’s snowing.’
Ben looked up. ‘The forecast said it wasn’t going to be heavy. It probably won’t even settle.’
They made their way into the lobby along with almost two coachloads of other stranded passengers.
‘Right,’ the receptionist said when they got to the front of the queue. ‘Room one-o-three.’ And he handed over a key card, then looked expectantly at the family standing behind them.
‘What about the other key?’ Ben asked. ‘For the other room?’
The receptionist frowned and checked some papers on the desk in front of him. ‘Ben and Alice Robertson?’
‘Yes,’ Alice said.
‘No,’ Ben said simultaneously.
When the railway staff had been taking names and details for overnight accommodation, it had become apparent that she was missing a surname. Ben had suggested she just use his to save long explanations.
‘We’re not … together,’ she said to the receptionist and felt her cheeks heat as she kept her eyes away from Ben’s.
‘You’re not married?
They both shook their heads.
‘Brother and sister?’ the guy asked hopefully.
A blush crept up past Alice’s chin to warm her ears.
‘It’s complicated,’ Ben said.
The receptionist merely blinked, then said, ‘Of course, West Coast Rail may well be happy to sort out another room for one of you, but it won’t be at this hotel. We’re fully booked now, and they’re sending everyone else to Carlisle. If you’d like to stand to one side, I can get them on the phone for you.’
There was shuffling in the queue behind them. People were getting restless. ‘Carlisle is north of here,’ Ben said to her. ‘We’d be heading in completely the wrong direction.’
Alice nodded. It made no sense to go back there. It also made no sense for her and Ben to split up. ‘I don’t suppose you have any twin rooms left?’
The receptionist shook his head. ‘But some of our rooms have a sofa bed. I can put you in one of those?’
She shot a look at Ben. He met her gaze and nodded. ‘I’d have slept on the floor if need be,’ he told the receptionist, ‘but that would be great. Thank you.’
While Alice was in the bathroom, Ben slipped out of his jeans and slid between the sheets of the sofa bed situated next to the window. One of the hotel staff had come and removed the back cushions and made it up not long after they’d got to the room. It was turning out to be surprisingly comfortable.
The bathroom door opened. Alice emerged looking a little awkward in a pair of too-large pyjamas. He opened one of the reading apps on his phone to both distract himself and give her a little privacy.
The sheets on the bed rustled. ‘Are you okay if I turn out the light?’
‘Of course.’ She flipped the switch, and then the only source of light in the room was the dull glow of his phone screen. ‘Will this disturb you?’ he asked.
‘No, it’s okay. I think I’ll be out for the count once my head hits the pillow.’
Alice predicted well. Her breathing slowed not long after he heard her plumping up the pillow, but while she was right about the speed with which she fell asleep, she was wrong about the quality. He read on his phone for the next hour or two, during which she had patches of tossing and turning. He’d just about nodded off, his phone lying on his chest, when she suddenly gasped and sat up.
Ben also lurched to a sitting position. ‘Are you okay?’
She breathed heavily for a moment, then said, ‘Yes … Just a bad dream.’
He knew all about bad dreams, had been plagued by them for a good while after Cat had died. They hadn’t been identical, but they’d all run along the same theme: she was in danger – locked in a house, being sucked under swampy mud, flailing far out at sea – and he could never get to her in time to save her. ‘What was it about?’
He heard her inhale and then exhale, and then she began talking. ‘I can’t remember. It was a feeling more than anything … of being breathless. And being trapped. I was trying to get away from something when I woke up. But it’s like the atmosphere of the dream is still with me now I’m awake.’
He hated it when that happened. ‘This is a stressful time for you. It’s not surprising it’s leaking into your dreams.’
She was quiet for a moment. ‘It’s not just the dream that’s making me feel this way,’ she replied quietly. ‘It’s real life.’
He propped himself up on his pillows and turned towards her. ‘In what way?’
‘All I’ve wanted since that day I met you outside the café was to find out who I am, to slot back into the life I left behind. After talking to the doctor, I have to acknowledge that I might not like what I find. Things might not be perfect. I thought I was ready for that, but now we’re on the way, now we’re getting closer, it’s all becoming very real. And I’m scared. Does that make sense?’
‘Yes,’ he said softly.
‘It does?’
‘It was hard to come back to Invergarrig when my sister died. I thought I knew what my future looked like, and then one day – poof! – it was gone, and I had no idea what would replace it. I still don’t, really … That was daunting enough, even when I knew who I was and where home was supposed to be. I can’t even imagine what it must be like to not know those things either.’
She nodded, and he thought he could see a rather wobbly, grateful smile curve her lips. ‘It just feels very …’
He waited for her to finish her sentence, but the room was completely silent for almost a minute, and then he realized why. In the dim light, he could see she’d covered her face with her hands.
‘Alice?’
She tried to answer, but all that came out at first was a gurgling sniff, and then she managed, ‘I just f-feel so lonely. All the time. It’s like I’m in this world with everybody else, but I’m from a separate planet, a place no one else understands because they’ve never been there. I just … I just want it all to end!’
It was all Ben could do to stay anchored to his stupid sofa bed and not leap over to where she was and gather her up in his arms. But he kept his backside glued to the mattress.
When she’d composed herself, she said, ‘I keep thinking about that image I saw so clearly in my mind back at the station. It could be a memory, but you’re right – it could just be my addled brain playing yet another horrible trick on me. But then I think, “What if it isn’t? What if it’s real?” and I go round and round in circles trying to work the answer out. It’s exhausting. And I keep thinking: all I want is one thing, just one fact to know about myself to anchor me in place, to make me actually feel like a real person … not a figment of someone’s imagination that might disappear at any second.’ She buried her face in her hands again, and her shoulders began to shake. Ben’s eggshell-thin resolve cracked.
Don’t do it, don’t do it, a voice warned inside his head as he threw his duvet back and stood up. She needs a friend, not …
Shut up, he argued back. I know that. Don’t you think I know that? And to prove his point, he didn’t get into bed beside her but stayed on top of the duvet, putting an arm around her from the side so she could lean into him. She let out a strange little sob, and then the floodgates opened.
He’d never been that good with other people’s emotions. Not really, even though he was definitely a people person. There was getting deeper, connecting, and then there was … this. It reminded him of his sister, how she’d worn all her feelings on her sleeve for the world to see, how he’d tried to tell her over and over to buckle them up inside when she got upset because you never knew when the door would slam open and an angry voice would tell you to shut up or they’d give you something real to cry about.
But, somehow, he didn’t want to crawl away, find an excuse to do something else, go somewhere else, while Alice turned the front of his T-shirt into a lake. He didn’t know what to do or what to say to solve her problem, although he desperately wished he could, but he could do this. He could hold her. He could try and absorb some of her pain.
She eventually ran out of steam, becoming heavy against him. ‘Why don’t you try and get some sleep,’ he whispered, but when he tried to pull away, she grabbed his arm, kept it pinned against her.
‘Please … Don’t go. Not just yet.’
He remained still for a couple of heartbeats, then said, ‘Give me a second …’ before putting one foot on the floor and reaching over for the single duvet on his bed. When he returned, pulling the duvet with him, Alice had sunk onto the mattress, facing away from him. He scooted in close, staying on top of her duvet but pulling his over him until he was spooning behind her. Close but not too close.
There. All very platonic. No skin was touching skin, except if you counted where his forearm lay across hers.
