The Trouble with Love (10 page)

TWENTY

Polly didn't sleep well. She heard the clock downstairs chime every hour from two until eight. Every time she tried to go to sleep, the horrible images of the previous evening threatened to drown her. Ollie at the restaurant. Sam in the park. Ollie in the moonlight, looking at her like he hated her. What was she doing? How would she get through this?

She staggered out of bed at ten and had the hottest shower she could bear. Lobster pink and wrapped in a massive towel, she sat on the floor of her bedroom and wept until her eyes were as pink as her skin. Then she blew her nose and opened her wardrobe. Her dad had texted to confirm that he would meet her on the beach at twelve. There was nothing her mum could do about it. Now all she had to do was struggle with her daily battle of what to wear. It was too much.

All she could think about was Sam's unhappy face in the park, and Ollie's moonlit back as he jogged away from her in the dark. Sam, Ollie, Sam, Ollie. She wanted to scream.

Her phone buzzed.

 

I'm sorry. Please talk to me, Polly.

My heart is broken.

S xx

 

He even got his punctuation right, Polly thought dully. No one ever bothered with punctuation in texts. No one but Sam, apparently.

No sooner had Polly read the message than another one appeared.

 

We only have three days left.

I want to enjoy them with you.

Life is too short for this. Love S xx

 

No boy had ever texted that word to her before. Polly wavered, remembering the magic of Sam's kisses. She put down her phone and looked back at her half-tidied wardrobe. Then she burst into fresh tears and threw herself across the bed, burying her head in her pillow. She couldn't cope with any of it today.

Her mother put her head round the door. She was across the room in two strides, holding Polly and stroking her hair.

“Oh, my baby. What's the matter? Is it Sam? Is it your dad?”

“Sam's leaving,” Polly wept. “His parents are getting a divorce and his mum's moving to London and he's going with her. I can't bear it, I can't bear it. . .”

“I'm so sorry, love,” her mother said, holding her tightly. “Love can be cruel. When your father left—”

“Shut up about Dad,” said Polly savagely, pressing her hands to her ears. “Just
shut up
!”

She shoved her mother away and flew off the bed, pressing her back to the wall, trying to put as much distance between them as she could. Anger and grief poured out of her in a tidal wave.

“I hate how you are about Dad all the time,” Polly shouted.

Her mother's face was chalk-white with shock. “Polly, I—”

“Everyone leaves!” Polly's lungs felt like they were in a vice. She picked up a picture frame and threw it across the room. There was the sound of breaking glass. “Everyone leaves me. Parents ruin
everything
!”

It was the strangest sensation, seeing her own mother cry.

“Polly baby, I'm so sorry. . . I had no idea you felt like this. . . I just want to protect you. . .”

The shattering picture frame had punctured something in Polly. The anger left her, seeping away like poison draining from a wound. She felt bone tired but determined. Her mother had to understand.

“I want to see Dad,” she said simply. “And he wants to see me. That's never going to change, Mum. You have to learn to get along with him for my sake.”

Tears ran down her mother's cheeks. “I'm so sorry,” she repeated, reaching unsteadily for the tissues by Polly's bed. “I've got it all wrong, haven't I? Of course you must see your dad. I . . . will try my best not to interfere any more. Now dry your eyes. You're meeting him at twelve, aren't you? We don't have much time.”

Polly sat on the bed and let her mother pull things from her wardrobe and lay them out for her to choose. She felt calmer. Her heart was still in pieces, but something else felt as if it was maybe starting to heal.

She chose a vintage gold blouse and a pair of bright teal jeans. Then she grabbed a thick oversized cardigan.

“When do you think you'll be back?” asked her mother as Polly headed for the front door.

“I'll call you,” said Polly firmly. Her mother would have to be content with that.

The sun was out, feeling warm on her shoulders, and as she walked into town she realized that she had made a decision about America. Perhaps it was her argument with her mum which had unlocked the answer. Whatever the reason, it was a good feeling, knowing what she wanted to do with her life again.

Her dad was waiting by the seafront, perched on the seawall with two ice-cream cones in his hands.

“Love the colour combination,” he said, kissing her cheek while holding the ice creams precariously out to the side. “You have such a great eye for clothes, Polly-Dolly. How have you been?”

If only you knew
, thought Polly. “Not bad,” she said aloud.

Her father gave her the ice cream. “Organic and local,” he said happily. “Even the cone is made a short way down the coast. It makes it so much more special, don't you think? I know it's bad to eat ice cream before lunch, but I couldn't resist.”

They walked side by side on the beach, listening to the gulls and watching the waves curl and crash on the sand. Polly tried not to think of Sam's boat bobbing out there among the scudding sails on the blue horizon.

Her father was enthusing about his farm and all the plans he had for the land. “When you farm biodynamically, Polly, you harness everything so that it works in harmony—”

Polly interrupted him. “How far is the farm from the beach?”

“About a twenty-minute drive,” he said, smiling. “And what a beach it is. It's a little wilder than here, with no town or anything like that. But it's so beautiful. The dunes stretch for miles.”

Polly dug her toes in the cool sand. “I've decided I want to live with you,” she said. “But don't tell anyone yet, OK? I need to pick the right moment to break the news to Mum.”

When would the right moment be? she wondered. She would have to tell Lila as well. She didn't know which would be worse. But she had made her decision, so she knew that she would find a way. It was time for a fresh start. This was the perfect opportunity to start again.

Her father's face was a picture of delight. “That's wonderful news! We are going to have such a great time, building our life on the farm. It'll be like the old days!”

“No it won't,” said Polly. She smiled, wanting him to know that she didn't mind. “Because these are
new
days, Dad. I want to remember that.”

TWENTY-ONE

By Saturday morning, Polly still hadn't found the courage to tell her mother she wanted to move to the States in a week's time.

She and her dad had planned everything yesterday afternoon, and Polly's head was buzzing with information: about school, and the farm, and the store, and the recycled clothes she would make to sell, and the website they would build together. But every time she built herself up to explaining her plans to her mother, she lost her nerve.

Her mum was trying her best to be nice about her dad, Polly noticed. She hadn't said anything bad about him since their fight the previous day, and was bending over backwards to keep Polly happy. She had even said, “If he ever wants to pick you up from here, tell him that's fine. I could maybe put the kettle on so we can all talk together.”

Polly could see how hard it was for her mum to change years of behaviour overnight. She dreaded to think how she would react to the much more dramatic news that Polly was planning to emigrate for good.

That morning, her mum had made a cake for them to share over a cup of tea before she went to work. Her mum wasn't the world's greatest baker, and the cake was burned around the edges and a little dry, but Polly appreciated the effort. It made her feel doubly guilty about her plans.

“When's your dad moving into his farm then?” her mum asked, slicing the cake.

Polly wondered if her mother could see the guilt in her eyes. “I'm not sure,” she mumbled, and took a bite from the cake to save herself from saying anything else. There was never going to be a good time for breaking news like this, she realized. She would just have to be brave and jump right in.

“I'm sure he'll make it very special,” said her mum. “He was always good at things like that.”

Polly swallowed the cake. It made her throat even drier.

“Mum?” she said hesitantly.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. With a wave of relief, she checked the screen and pushed away from the table. Her news could wait.

“It's Lila,” she said. “I'd better answer it.”

“Send her my love,” said her mum as Polly hurried out of the kitchen, lifting her phone to her ear.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself! We haven't spoken since the apple juice thing. Boy, what a disaster! I was so angry with Ollie, I stormed out of the restaurant not long after you did. Remind me never to sort out a double date again,” Lila sighed. “Listen, do you want to help me throw an end-of-half-term beach party?”

Pain sliced through Polly as she remembered meeting Sam after the last beach party they'd had. Was that only a week ago?

“The weather's still great,” Lila went on, “so I thought we could go back to the secret cove tomorrow afternoon, make a campfire, put together a really great playlist, all the stuff we did before. Only we could make it
extra
special this time by doing some proper food. After last week, I never want to eat another marshmallow again.”

A strange thought struck Polly. If this party went ahead, it wouldn't just mark the end of half-term. It could be her leaving party as well. Her dad was only planning to be in the UK for a few more days, and she would be joining him on the plane to San Francisco next week.

Lila was still talking enthusiastically.

“We could do baked potatoes, although we'd have to put them in the fire as soon as we built it – they take so long to cook, but they are so worth it with beans and cheese and other yummy things on top.”

“We could do bananas and chocolate in foil too,” Polly found herself saying.

“Brilliant!” Lila said at once. “Will you meet me in town to get the stuff this afternoon?”

Downstairs, Polly heard the front door click shut and the car starting up as her mum left for work. She hated the feeling of relief. She would tell her mum tonight, she promised herself. She would make herself do it.

Half an hour later she was standing with Lila outside the supermarket.

“OK, so I've called everyone and they can all make it tomorrow afternoon,” said Lila as they collected a trolley.

“Even Eve and Max?” Polly asked.

“Obviously not them,” said Lila, rolling her eyes in return. “They aren't invited. Rhi hasn't heard a thing from either of them all week. They're probably loved up on Eve's dad's boat right now.” She glared in the general direction of the harbour. “I was going to ask Max to do the music like last week, but hello? Who wants anything to do with the guy now? I'll ask Ollie instead.”

Polly's heart gave its customary flutter at the mention of Ollie's name. She wondered if he'd told Lila about their moonlit fight on Thursday evening.

“What's Ollie's music like?”

“Terrible,” Lila grinned. “But more party-like than mine. I have a list of what we need, let's go.”

They moved through the supermarket aisles, discussing the party as they went along. Polly started to feel quite excited as they piled bananas and dark-chocolate bars into their arms.

“So how's the gorgeous Sam anyway?” Lila asked, reaching up for a box of silver foil to add to the growing pile in the trolley.

Polly's heart gave a jump. She hadn't thought about Sam for several hours because she'd had too much else on her mind. But now he was back inside her head, his hazel eyes full of tears and his voice pleading with her to talk about it.

“That's over,” she said as steadily as she could. “He's moving to London next week. We decided to call it quits.”

Lila's mouth fell open. “What? But you guys only just got together!”

“Tell me about it,” Polly sighed. “He told me on Thursday night. After . . . you know. The restaurant.”

“But what happened?”

Polly told Lila about Sam's parents getting divorced, and his internship with the politician. She knew this was the moment to tell her best friend about her plans to move to America as well, but she couldn't face it.

You're a coward, Polly Nelson
, she told herself with a sigh.

“Did you think of asking Sam to stay, and forget about the internship?' Lila asked.

Polly shook her head. “Politics is his life. He wants to change the world so badly. I can't stand in his way.”

Lila looked troubled. “You're right. Politics will always come first for Sam, won't they? The protest march, now this. That's not good for anyone, being second best.”

Polly frowned. “What do you mean?”

Lila fiddled with her hair. “If I tell you something,” she said at last, “will you swear not to tell anyone else?”

“You can tell me anything,” Polly answered, intrigued now.

Lila pushed her swinging brown hair out of her eyes. “It's Ollie,” she confided. “Things aren't going all that great with him and me at the moment. He's still a lovely guy, but . . . I don't know. It's like the spark is fading between us. We seem to argue a lot, and it's like he doesn't smile at me as much as he used to.”

Polly was glad she was holding on to the trolley. Her legs felt strangely shaky. “Seriously?”

Lila nodded. “It's the weirdest thing, but I always feel like I come second in Ollie's life.”

Polly brought the trolley to a halt. “You knew he was committed to his football when you started going out with him,” she pointed out.

“I thought it was the football at first.” Lila absently opened one of the bars of chocolate in the trolley and bit into it. “But I'm getting the sensation that this is really about something else. Or should I say, some
one
else. I think he's got secret feelings for another girl that he's hiding from me.”

Polly felt sick. “Secret feelings about who?”

“I don't know,” Lila said. Then she shook her head like she was clearing water from her ears and smiled at Polly. “Listen to me, banging on. Like you need to hear any of this when you've got romance problems of your own. Sorry, Pol. Ignore me.” She squeezed Polly's arm, her big blue eyes wide and serious. “I never want anything to come between us, OK? Boys, friends, none of it. You're too important to me.”

Polly felt a terrible urge to climb inside the shopping trolley and hide among the potatoes they'd bought. How could she even
think
of leaving Heartside when Lila needed her so much? It would break her friend's heart. And Ollie—

No. She wouldn't think about Ollie right now. Going to California was the right decision. Wasn't it?

They took the shopping back to Polly's house because it was closer to the secret cove for transporting the party stuff the following day. Their bags were heavy, and Polly had to concentrate on holding them in such a way that they didn't cut off the circulation in her fingers. Her head was full to bursting with everything as Lila chattered on about the next day's party. She wished she could go somewhere quiet and dark and really think it all through.

“Psst,” said Lila suddenly.

Sam was waiting by the gate. Polly's stomach flip-flopped.

“Can we go to yours?” she said in panic.

“You guys need to talk,” said Lila, giving her a gentle shove. “Sam's leaving in a few days. Make the most of the time you have left. I'll see you tomorrow at eleven to get the stuff down to the cove.”

Before Polly could protest, Lila had smiled at Sam, put her share of the shopping bags on the pavement outside Polly's house, and jogged away down the road.

Sam was looking extremely gorgeous in the blustery sunshine, tall and broad-shouldered with bright wind-blown colour in his cheeks. Polly could feel her resolve melting as she looked at him.

“Hey,” Sam said.

“Hey yourself,” she said.

They stared at each other in silence.

“I wanted to say—” he began.

“I'm really—” Polly said at the same time.

They stopped, and laughed a little uncertainly.

“So how are you?” Sam asked.

Polly pointed at the bulging bags on the pavement. “There's a party tomorrow at the beach. Lila and I went shopping.”

That's not even an answer to his question,
she thought hopelessly. Why was she so bad at stuff like this?

“I'm sorry I upset you last night,” he said. “I didn't know how to tell you I was leaving. I guess it was never going to be easy.”

“I guess not,” Polly mumbled, staring hard at the shopping bags.

“Polly, please look at me.”

She felt his hand slide into hers. She looked up at him. Then somehow she was in his arms and he was kissing her, stroking her hair and hugging her and kissing her again.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered against her tear-streaked cheeks.

She clung to him. “I know. I'm sorry too.”

Holding her hard against him, Sam looked down at her. “What are you thinking?” he said.

“This is going to end in a few days,” Polly said. Given her plans for America, this was even truer than Sam knew. “But it's right, what you said in your text. Life's too short not to enjoy what we can.”

He kissed her again. “And we're really going to enjoy it, OK?” he said when he released her. “We'll go out tonight, somewhere really special, just you and me. And we can talk and be with each other and laugh and do all the things we love doing together.”

“Sounds good,” said Polly through her tears.

And it did.