The One We Fell in Love With (26 page)

I miss her so much. I’d give anything to hear her voice again. I pull out the grey cashmere hoodie that’s lying on the top of one box full of clothes and begin to cry as I shrug off
my cardigan and pull it over my head, sliding my arms into the cosy-soft armholes. I hug the material to my chest, wanting to be engulfed by her. I search through the boxes for her favourite jeans
and my heart jumps when I spy them. I’m still wearing my dress so I tuck the flimsy fabric into the waistband and go to the mirror, taking out my bobby pins as I go. My hair swings down into
a high ponytail.

I stand for a long moment, staring at my sister. We look the same, except for our eyes. Where hers were bright and sparkling, mine are red and puffy. I slide down to the floor and sob my heart
out, raising my wrist to my nose to inhale her perfume again. The lump in my throat is aching painfully, and it shows no signs of diminishing.

I reach into a box for one of the photo albums, but as I lift it out, I spy the navy and yellow notepad underneath.

My heart skips a beat.

I pick it up and skim through the pages and it’s as I could hardly dare to hope: the dates tell me that this is Phoebe’s most recent journal, the one she was writing when she
died.

She’s not gone. I can still hear her voice, if only I dare to read it.

I know full well that my curiosity will get the better of me.

Eliza

‘Sorry about that,’ I say to Angus as I deliver his third cup of coffee of the evening.

My boss has been getting increasingly impatient with the amount of time I’ve been spending at this side of the room.

‘Is your boyfriend going to sit there all night?’ was his last grumble. We’re not even busy. It’s not like they need the table.

I asked Angus to come here so I could tell him about my meeting with Mum earlier. I had hoped my boss might let me leave early tonight – we had no reservations or big groups – but
he’s being a bit of an arse about it.

‘Don’t wait any longer for me,’ I tell Angus downheartedly. ‘I’ll be here until ten thirty, eleven, I reckon.’

He shakes his head and offers me a small smile. ‘I’m happy.’

‘Eliza!’ That’s my boss again. I barely conceal my irritation as I turn away and head back over to him.

‘Take Table 9’s coffee order and then you can go.’

‘Really?’ I ask with delight.

‘Quick before I change my mind.’

After the awkwardness of Monday night, Angus and I don’t go back to my apartment and neither, of course, do we go back to his.

‘I can’t believe I haven’t even seen where you live, yet,’ I complain as we slide into a booth seat in a nearby pub.

He doesn’t reply and the message is clear. Until Rose and I sort out our differences, I’m not going to.

It’s an added incentive, I have to admit, but I’m still in no rush to come clean to my sister about Angus and face her wrath.

He wraps his arm around me and pulls me close so the whole right-hand side of my body is flush to his left. I drape my arm across his stomach and rest my face against his chest. It feels
intimate, being here like this with him, never mind that we’re in public. I tilt my face up and press a kiss to his neck. He holds me tighter in turn.

I wonder if he will ever feel like he’s mine. Completely mine. How long will it take? Years, certainly. He was Phoebe’s for almost a decade. How long before I can wipe clean the
memory of the two of them together?

As soon as the thought occurs to me, I feel poisonous. And then I realise that I’m kidding myself, anyway. I’ll never be able to forget that he should be with her.

Will it ever stop hurting, though?

‘What are you thinking?’ Angus asks quietly, with that uncanny knack of his.

‘Do you still cry about her?’ I don’t know why, but this is the question that spills from my lips and I feel his flat stomach contract under my palm as a result.

‘Sometimes,’ he admits.

‘Do you feel guilty being with me?’

‘A little.’ Again with honesty.

I break our contact, edging away from him.

‘Don’t go,’ he says sadly.

The side of my body feels cold, where before it was warm.

‘She would hate this,’ I say, my voice wavering.

He shakes his head. ‘I disagree. I think she’d want us to be happy.’

‘Come on! She would
hate
us being together,’ I say fervently.

‘Liza, please don’t,’ he begs, reaching for my hand.

I let him take it, but it’s limp.

My head is spinning with questions. I know the answers will drive me crazy and will only drum up more questions, but I need to ask them nonetheless.

‘How many children did you want to have?’

Angus stares at me with dismay and, after a moment, his beautiful eyes fill with tears.

‘She always wanted two when we were younger,’ I tell him, not waiting any longer for his reply. ‘A boy first and then a girl, three years later. Is that what she told
you?’

He averts his gaze and nods.

I continue. ‘She didn’t want three. She wanted the boy to get her full attention and then she’d have a baby girl around the time her son went to nursery, so the new baby would
have her at least some of the time. She had it all mapped out.’

To my surprise, he smiles slightly. ‘She did,’ he agrees, brushing away a tear. ‘But you can’t plan that sort of stuff.’

‘No.’ I nod, returning his shaky smile. ‘You could have ended up with triplets, for all she knew.’

‘Or two sets of twins.’

I laugh. ‘When were you going to start trying for a baby?’

His smile drops from his face.

‘Straight away,’ I answer for him, sensing the truth.

He nods once and I feel a wave of nausea.

‘Was that why she agreed to move back here? She was going to leave her job soon anyway?’ I knew she wanted to write a book, so getting pregnant would have fallen in nicely with those
plans.

He nods again. I let go of his hand.

‘Why are you doing this to us?’ he asks gravely.

‘I can’t help it,’ I whisper. ‘I need to know.’

‘It’s going to consume you.’

‘But I need to know,’ I reiterate. ‘I need to know what your plans were, where you’d be. If we hadn’t lost her, she could be expecting your son right
now.’

‘Stop it,’ he begs.

I fall silent, but it’s a momentary respite, because ‘They’ by Jem starts to play over the pub’s sound system.

‘Phoebe loved this song. She played this album relentlessly the year she met you.’ My tone takes on a flippant edge.

‘I remember,’ he says, staring ahead in a daze.

‘She used to be into dreamy, girlie stuff. Who did she like towards the end?’

‘Mumford and Sons,’ he replies dully. ‘She played their second album on repeat.’

‘I didn’t even know she liked their first album,’ I say. Phoebe and I had different taste in music. ‘I really didn’t know her that well, did I?’

‘She still liked dreamy, girlie stuff, too,’ he says.

But I’m not even listening. ‘We’d grown apart over the years.’

He looks absolutely miserable as he hunches over the table and wraps his hands around his pint. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says.

‘Yes, it
was
because of you,’ I reply. ‘And I was going to leave Manchester because of you, too.’

He doesn’t even ask me to stop. He knows that I won’t.

‘If I could choose between having Phoebe here or being with you, I would choose Phoebe.’

‘I know that!’ Now he sounds angry as he stares at me, his eyes flashing. ‘But for fuck’s sake,’ he hisses, ‘she’s not here. So why are you ruining this
for us? You think that I wouldn’t have found someone else eventually?’

I gawp at him, but he’s not done.

‘My life isn’t over because Phoebe’s gone. And neither is yours. I don’t for a minute think that you wouldn’t have gone off with some other guy sooner or later. And
yeah, maybe you wouldn’t have had this guilt with him, but if you think you could be happier with someone else, then what the hell are you doing here with me?’

It’s a moment before I can speak. ‘But isn’t your guilt worse because you’re with me rather than someone who never knew Phoebe?’

‘No,’ he snaps. ‘Not really.’ He shoves his hair back, still angry and frustrated. ‘Most people want to know about their partner’s past. And any girl I went
out with might have been upset to hear I’d be married right now if my fiancée hadn’t been killed doing Christ knows what up a mountain with some other guy!’

A cold flush comes over me. ‘What are you talking about?’ I ask.

‘Phoebe!’ he exclaims, not even bothering to lower his voice any more. ‘What was she doing going rock climbing with someone who she used to be in love with?’

‘Who?’ I don’t understand.

‘Remy!’

‘Phoebe was up the mountain with Remy? The same Remy from when she was eighteen?’

‘Yes.’ He looks anguished.

‘I had no idea she was still in touch with him.’

‘She wasn’t.’ He looks downcast. ‘She bumped into him the night before she died and decided to go up the mountain on a whim. She hadn’t climbed in years! Why would
she do that?’ He shakes his head, bewildered. ‘She obviously still had feelings for him.’

‘God,’ I murmur.

‘Was she having doubts?’ I can see how confused he is. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking to you about this.’ He shakes his head again, but it doesn’t
hurt as much as it should, witnessing his anguish over my sister. It’s just as well, because he hasn’t finished. ‘I wanted to tell Rose about us tonight. I was going to convince
you it was the right thing to do. But now I don’t know. If you and I can’t...’

My blood runs cold and his eyes well up again as he continues.

‘Well, what would be the point of upsetting everyone for nothing?’

Rose

‘ROSE.’

Angus’s voice rouses me from sleep and I’m disoriented as I come to.

‘What the hell have you been doing?’ His face is white with rage.

I realise with horror that I’ve fallen asleep on my bed, in amongst some of Phoebe’s clothes. In fact, I’m still wearing one of her favourite going-out outfits: a navy shift
dress and black high heels.

‘I wanted to feel closer to her,’ I whimper, getting down from the bed. His eyes rake over me from head to toe and his mouth drops open.

‘Have you been playing dress up?’ he asks with disbelief, backing out of the room.

‘Gus, I’m sorry!’ I call after him, stumbling in the heels.

I chase after him as he storms into his bedroom where everything is exactly as I left it. Jesus.

‘I’m really sorry,’ I say as he swoops down and scoops up a bundle of clothes.

‘Get her things!’ He points out of the door in the direction of my bedroom. I’ve never seen him so angry.

‘I’ll do it,’ I start to say. ‘I’ll tidy up. Just go into the living room and wait.’

‘Get them now!’ he bellows at me.

I run out of his room and grab Phoebe’s clothes from my bed, hurrying back in time to see him roughly shoving her possessions into the boxes.

‘Gus, please,’ I beg. ‘I’ll fold them up again.’

He storms over to me and I flinch as he snatches the items from my arms, turning to stuff them into the nearest box. He yelps suddenly, and I freeze. I tentatively step forward and place my hand
on his back, and then he loses it completely.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I murmur. We’re both sitting on the sofa in the living room, nursing cups of tea, but the last hour has been hell.

I’ve never seen Angus like that before. He’d already moved to this apartment in Manchester when Phoebe died and I was still in London, so I wasn’t on-hand to witness his
immediate grief. Now he is utterly distraught and he hasn’t wanted me to touch him so I haven’t known what to do with myself. I’ve had to watch while he’s sobbed his heart
out like a baby, all the while keeping me at bay.

He’s no longer crying and he accepted my offer of tea, but asked me to get changed back into my own clothes first.

‘I shouldn’t have gone into your room,’ I say.

‘No, you shouldn’t have,’ he agrees in a low voice, blowing on the hot liquid in his cup.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I say again, totally ashamed. ‘I’ll never go in there again,’ I find myself vowing. ‘I just wanted to tidy it.’

‘You don’t have to do that, Rose,’ he says, a little exasperated now.

‘I was just trying to help.’

‘I know, but please don’t.’

My face heats up. There I go again, dishing out help where it’s not wanted.

‘What time is it?’ I ask, stifling a yawn.

He checks his watch. ‘One o’clock.’

‘We’re going to be knackered in the morning. Where were you tonight?’ I ask.

He looks uncomfortable and doesn’t reply instantly. Is this the time for our heart-to-heart? No. I’m not sure either of us can stomach it.

‘Come on, then, we’d better get to sleep,’ I say.

He nods, standing up.

‘Hug?’ I ask cautiously.

He opens up his arms in response. I step forward and they close around me, washing my worries away. My heart constricts as I rest my cheek against his chest. I feel so bad for hurting him. I
breathe in deeply, trying to feel better again, but the scent I pick up is not from his usual deodorant. I go rigid and then step backwards, breaking our contact.

‘What is it?’ He cocks his head at the look on my face.

‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.’

‘Night,’ he calls after me as I walk into my room, shutting the door and pressing my back against it.

I know who he’s been with tonight. And I feel like I’m going to throw up.

I wait until Angus has left for work the following morning before venturing out of my room. I’m going to be late, but I’m handing in my notice anyway. The sooner I
get out of this town, the better.

I can’t believe that Angus has been seeing Eliza. How could they betray me like this? How could they betray Phoebe? Her grave has barely even settled and they’re hopping into bed
with one another.

Of everything Eliza has ever done, this is the worst.

A little voice inside my head reasons that whatever is going on between Angus and Eliza has nothing to do with me. But I shut it back down. It feels like a betrayal. So it is a betrayal.