The One We Fell in Love With (16 page)

‘Sure,’ Angus replies with a nod.

‘We’ll just get the bill, please,’ Stewart says to me.

I force a smile and hop to it.

After they’ve paid and left me a generous tip, Stewart goes downstairs to the toilet while Angus waits by the door. I need to get back to my customers, but I’m reluctant to leave
him.

‘What time will you finish tonight?’ he asks me quietly as I smooth down the front of my red and white uniform.

‘Around eleven, I think.’

‘Can I come back for you?’

My heart flutters, but I speak before I can stop myself. ‘Why? I mean, I usually catch the Metro. It’s no trouble.’

‘I’ll come back for you,’ he says decisively.

‘What are you going to do to pass the next three hours?’

‘Pub with Stew and then maybe I’ll go and see a movie.’

‘Okay.’ I grin. ‘Wish I could come.’

‘Do you?’ His face lights up.

A few people bustle in behind him. I glance over my shoulder to see that they – and I – have my boss’s attention. ‘Gotta go,’ I tell him regretfully.

‘I’ll see you later.’ He touches his fingers to mine.

I’m distracted for the rest of the night. Michelle corners me by the kitchen as I wait for the last of my customers’ dessert order.

‘I thought you didn’t want to see him ever again,’ she says.

‘I didn’t say that, did I?’ I carry on before she continues. ‘If I did, it was in the heat of the moment. If Rose is living with him, why should I stay away?’

‘Aah,’ she says knowingly. ‘It’s the whole competitive sister thing going on.’

‘I’m not competing with Rose.’ Am I?

‘You hate that she’s living with Angus, don’t you?’

I’m about to lie, but I can’t be bothered. ‘Yeah, it’s pretty damn annoying. But it’s typical of her. They were mates in London so it doesn’t surprise me that
she jumped right in there.’

‘Well, I’m glad for you,’ she says abruptly.

I flash her a mystified look. ‘What did you say it like that for? He’s just a mate. We’re hanging out.’

‘He’s very good-looking, though, isn’t he?’ she says offhandedly.

‘Oh, look, my ice creams are here,’ I say sarcastically, picking them up from the counter and glaring at her as I go back upstairs to my last remaining table.

‘Do you really have to live here?’ Angus asks with distaste when we pull up outside my tower block half an hour later. He cuts the ignition, but the radio continues
to play.

‘Yes,’ I reply firmly. ‘It’s fine. I’m fine. You don’t have to worry.’

‘I think I’ll always worry about you, Liza.’

I remember him saying something similar to Rose once. He sounded like the big brother we never had. I try not to ponder that thought too much.

‘How’s it going with Rose?’ I ask hesitantly.

‘Good,’ he replies, wriggling in his seat so he’s facing me. ‘She’s easy to live with.’

I experience a spike of jealousy.

‘She wanted to do a barbecue tonight, bless her,’ he continues warmly, and my jealousy intensifies.

‘Does she know you’re here tonight?’ I ask.

He shakes his head. ‘I didn’t mention it.’

‘Why not?’

‘I didn’t think you’d want me to.’

I nod. ‘Yeah, it’s probably best to keep it quiet. I know Mum was warned not to tell me she was living with you.’

‘Where was Michelle off to tonight?’ he asks. He offered to give her a lift, too, but she declined.

‘She’s staying at her boyfriend’s.’

‘Are you seeing anyone at the moment?’

I’m taken aback by his direct question. ‘No. Are you?’

He recoils. ‘No.’

We sit in silence for a long moment. I still haven’t made any move to get out of the car. Alt-J’s ‘Left Hand Free’ is playing on his stereo. I like this song.

An impulsive thought comes to me. ‘Have you got an early start? Shall we go for a drive?’

We don’t talk much – in fact, I turn the music up and sing instead, and Angus bashes the steering wheel like a drum kit on the more upbeat songs, making me
laugh.

It reminds me of how we used to be.

‘Do you remember that picnic we had?’ he asks after about half an hour. We’re already out in the country, winding around the hills of the Peak District on a long, single-lane
road.

‘Of course I do,’ I reply.

‘I think we parked just around this corner.’

He slows right down and a moment later pulls onto a grassy verge. I sit up in my seat, looking out at the hills, which are overexposed and silvery white in the car’s headlights.

He yanks on the handbrake and cuts off the engine, then opens his car door and hops out. ‘Come on,’ he says, slamming the door.

‘Where are you going?’ I call after him.

He doesn’t answer, but I hear the rear door open and when I join him, he’s sitting in the boot space of the Land Rover with his legs dangling out of the back. I perch beside him.

‘Can you hear the stream?’ he asks.

I listen for a moment. ‘Yes.’ It’s tumbling over rocks nearby.

‘Look up,’ he whispers.

‘Wow.’ I gaze at the dark sky twinkling with stars.

‘Are you cold?’ He glances at my bare arms.

‘Not really,’ I reply. The heat from the July day has carried through to the evening, but I take the lightweight jacket he passes me, slipping my arms into the cool material. It
smells of him.

‘So,
Elvis & Joe’s
, hey?’ I say with a wry grin. ‘You did that on purpose, didn’t you?’

‘Sorry I didn’t give you any warning. Stewart hasn’t stopped bleating on about your burgers, and then it occurred to me that we could drop in tonight.’

‘Do you think he’ll tell his dad about me?’ I ask nervously.

‘He will when he’s heard you sing. I gave him a copy of your demo.’

‘You still had one?’ I ask with surprise.

‘Of course,’ he replies. ‘I’ve still got a couple, actually, just in case I ever get a chance to give them to anyone important. I’m not lying when I say I like your
music, you know.’

I’m touched, but I don’t know what to say.

‘It’s been a while since I’ve heard any of your new stuff, though,’ he adds.

‘It’s been a while since I’ve written anything new,’ I confess. ‘I only ever play covers at gigs these days.’

He glances at me with a frown. ‘Why is that?’

‘That’s all they want at social clubs.’ I sigh. ‘It was kind of nice, the first time they asked me to do a few covers. The punters really got into it with everyone
singing and clapping along. But the next time I went back, the manager wanted more of the same. That happened in venue after venue. I was only supposed to tour the working men’s clubs for a
couple of years, but two turned into five and... I don’t know what’s happened. I think I’ve lost confidence. That bloody demo didn’t help.’

‘What do you mean?’ His eyebrows knit together.

‘It was such a headache. I remember finding it so hard to choose between all of the songs I’d ever written and narrow them down to five. I used to think my earlier material was my
best, but I worried that it sounded dated – plus I’d played it so much busking. In the end I went for variety and sent CDs off to a whole bunch of record companies. I didn’t hear
back from any of them. I probably should have stuck to a more cohesive sound.’

‘I wish you’d asked for my opinion,’ he says sadly.

I sigh again. ‘Yeah.’ My confusion over choosing which songs to use eventually led to me feeling unsure about myself. Busking is the only time I ever really sing my own stuff any
more, and I do enjoy it, but I’m not exactly raking it in.

‘I hope Joe says yes,’ I whisper. ‘At least, I think I do.’

‘I haven’t rushed you into this, have I?’ he asks tentatively.

‘Yes.’ I flash him a smile. ‘But it’s good. It’s... just... Thank you,’ I finish.

‘You’re welcome.’ He reaches across and gives my shoulder a tender squeeze.

Phoebe

Today we went on the Montenvers train from Chamonix up to Mer de Glace, France’s largest glacier.

The mountains are lush at this time of year, the ground thick and leafy with ferns. There’s no snow on the pine trees, but the branches still droop downwards as if laden with weight. They
remind me of melted wax dripping down a candle.

The glacier is dirty grey and dusted with shingle, very different to the Bossons glacier, which is icy blue like Remy’s eyes. But you can just make out the ice underneath, rolling like a
huge frozen river down the mountain.

We caught a gondola to the bottom of the glacier and then walked down hundreds of steps to the grotto, which is sculpted fresh out of the ice every summer. The tunnels are lit with colourful
light displays and along the way there are whole rooms carved out of the ice, with chairs, tables and frozen-solid beds in them. It made me think of Rose – she loves that sort of thing. But
Eliza would probably like it too.

On the way back up the steps, I was laughing, telling Remy about that time when the school bully, Danny Riley, grabbed me and asked me if he pinched me, would my sisters feel it? Eliza kicked
his shin so hard that he screamed like a little girl and let me go. She was the smallest of the three of us, for anyone looking closely enough to notice, but she was the bravest. Dad used to call
her the runt of the litter – fondly – although I don’t think he ever said it to her face.

I don’t know why Rose has always given her such a hard time. Rose can be the kindest, sweetest, most giving person in the world – that’s how most of us see her. But she’s
not like that with Eliza. With Eliza, she has no patience. With Eliza, she can be mean.

I remember one time at school during a P.E. lesson. When our classmates were picking teams for games, Eliza would usually get chosen towards the end because she’s so uncoordinated –
unless I was captain, and then I’d always call her name early on. But this time, Rose was captain, and she let Eliza stand there while she called out name after name. The numbers kept
dwindling and Eliza was motionless, staring at her. Eventually the other captain took pity and picked her for his team, but I’ll never forget the look in Eliza’s eyes as she walked
towards him. I could’ve hit Rose. I’d always tried to stay out of my sisters’ arguments, but that time, I let rip.

Later I felt guilty because it was around that time that Mum and Dad decided to separate us into different classes at school. Rose was happy, but she didn’t bank on me being the one to go
with Eliza. I know she struggled that year. Eliza thought it served her right, but I felt so sorry for her.

Rose is naturally a jealous person and it’s not something she can control, but I have wondered if there’s a reason for why she’s like that. She used to be very clingy with Mum
when we were young. If Mum ever tried to leave the house for whatever reason and Rose wouldn’t let her go, Mum would sometimes speak quite sharply to her. Rose would scream and cry and kick
up such a fuss.

With only two parents and three of us going through the same stages of childhood, there just wasn’t enough attention to go around.

Rose eventually got what she wanted when we moved to the new house and she and Mum bonded out in the garden. Eliza gave up trying to get Mum and Dad’s attention and lost herself in her
music instead, but I’ve always felt guilty about her being left out in the cold.

God, I do miss her. And I miss Rose, too. Despite how she is with Eliza, Rose has always been there for me, and if it really came down to it, I know she’d put aside her differences and be
there for Eliza, too. I hope so, anyway.

Rose

Gavin wasn’t back yesterday and Toby was in a foul mood, but when we had a break, I got out the tube of arnica cream I’d brought in and offered to put some on him.
He seemed quite touched.

‘Didn’t you like being a nurse?’ he asked as I was applying it to his cheek, being careful not to press too hard and hurt him.

‘Yes and no. I liked looking after people, but I found it hard to let go when nothing could be done to help them.’

‘Yeah,’ was all he said, but I could tell he understood.

He’s pretty cute, you know. He’s got that indie-rock, skater boy look. He’s tall and skinny and his eyes are a warmer brown than I first thought.

‘Is it okay if I take a set of keys to come back here this evening with my mum?’ I ask Toby at the end of the week. ‘I need to go and collect her and you
won’t want to wait around.’

‘Er, sure, but they’re the only ones we have.’

‘You only have one set of keys?’

‘We haven’t got around to getting any more cut yet,’ he explains.

‘Well, I can nip out and do that tomorrow if you remind me. There’s a key cutter down the road. But tonight I could just drop your keys back to you?’

He doesn’t say anything.

I frown at him.

‘Okay,’ he agrees eventually. ‘I’ll write down our address.’

He doesn’t seem very pleased about it.

That evening, Mum stands and surveys the interior of
Jennifer’s.
She looks reasonably impressed, even more so when her eyes land on the cupcakes.

‘Won’t those go stale overnight?’ she asks.

‘Whoops, I forgot to put them away,’ I say, going behind the counter to retrieve an airtight container.

She looks thwarted as I pop them, one by one, into the container.

‘You can have some if you like, though?’ I’ll make sure the money finds its way into the till. I’ve already given her a loaf of bread today. That’s one of the
advantages of working here – free bread if there’s any left over.

‘Well, it’s just that my new Bridge club is meeting tomorrow morning and I thought perhaps...’

‘Of course,’ I say quickly. ‘How many are you?’

‘Four,’ she replies, looking pleased as I fill up a cardboard box for her.

‘I’ll leave them on the top. Let’s not forget them,’ I say.

‘Thank you, darling.’ She casts her eyes around the interior again. ‘It’s quite smart, isn’t it?’

‘It’s a lovely place to work,’ I say.

‘Doesn’t it get hot up here by the front window?’ she asks.

‘We leave the door open on warm days, but there’s no through breeze, so it’d be nice to be able to open the windows at the back. Have a look.’