Written in the Stars (44 page)

Dear Bea . . .

. . .. and dear March, do come in! I’m so glad to see you. You’re always the turning point in the year: as nature is stirred into action by warmer days, so you inspire us to start the hard work again. It’s a busy time for a gardener, but Bea, know that however manic life might seem right now, very soon you will get to celebrate the culmination of years of your hard work. I know you have spent a long time grafting, turning over soil, planting new bulbs, cultivating new life. I wish I could be there to see what you have achieved. But I know you will always have an appreciative, adoring audience to witness your accomplishments. And I know that now spring has begun in earnest you’ll barely remember the cold days that fell on your garden. You’ll look down and instead of bare ground, you will see the hardy perennials that are already pushing their way back into your life again after a long, hard winter. They are the ones to focus on, Bea, not the ones that didn’t make it.

I love you so much, Bea. I always have and always will.

Love, Dad x

Chapter 69

Bea Hudson is on top of the world.

34 likes.

I stand on the corner of Canada Square and look up at the impressive new building where Hudson, Grey & Friedman will now be based.

It’s small compared to the skyscrapers that surround it and is dwarfed completely by the gargantuan Canary Wharf Tower. With its four-storey glass exterior and exposed roof with the glass spherical ball at the centre, the agency’s new home looks like a small ‘i’ in the middle of a word full of capital letters. But it stands out, because of that very fact.

I feel goosebumps prickle my arms despite the unusually warm March evening. It has surprised me that there has been no snow this year, no late frosts, or winter winds. The daffodils appeared early as did the crocuses and the cherry blossom. Spring arrived in February and has simply stayed.

I’m nervous about tonight not just because it is the official unveiling of the roof terrace project, one I have played a significant part in, but because I’m convinced Adam will be there. It will be the first time I will have seen him since I left his parents’ house on New Year’s Day.

The last two months have felt interminably long without him. When he called me at Loni’s after I got back from the pier I told him that I was wrong to run away, I just needed space to see what it was I wanted. And I knew that I wanted to be with him. I’ve only ever wanted to be with him. But he wouldn’t listen. He told me that I’d been right. He told me that he loved me and that he wanted to be with me but that we can’t be together until we’ve worked out some other stuff. Then he told me he’d handed in his notice to his dad and had decided to go away for a while. ‘Not for long,’ he’d added quickly. ‘I’m not leaving you, Bea, I told you that. I’m never going to leave you. I just need to find myself first.’

‘How long will that take?’ I asked, feeling myself wobble but knowing that it was the right thing for both of us.

‘I don’t know; a few weeks, maybe a month or two. I just want to take some time out to work things out and I think you should too. But I promise I’ll be back, Bea.’

A memory washed over me then, of Kieran saying the same thing. But this time I knew it was different. I trusted Adam. I had faith in us. ‘Will you be OK?’ he asked, and I looked out into the garden.

‘Of course I will. I’ve got the roof terrace project to throw myself into and a university application to fill in. Besides, I’m kind of used to being left on my own. I don’t want to go back to the flat though without you. Milly has said I can stay at her place temporarily and I’m going to take her up on the offer . . .’ She’d told me this the day she’d come home from the hospital with baby Holly Rose. She was been born five weeks prematurely in a hospital in Brooklyn and Milly had already extended her maternity leave to six months from the statutory three you get in New York, and asked them to transfer her back to London.

‘I feel like this is where I’m meant to be. I had this terrible urge – a pain that almost felt like a contraction – because I missed my family so much. And you, of course. I have the rest of my life to work, but I won’t get this time back with Holly. Nor will my parents. I want to be nearer home so I can really enjoy my maternity leave, spend it with the people I love. Work understand, they have no choice really. It’s my decision. And what’s the worst that can happen? I get the sack and end up working for another hedge fund . . . or,’ she added, ‘I set up my own company. You know, I’ve been thinking about using my skills and time to invest in something good.’

‘Like what?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Milly mused. ‘Charities. I thought maybe I could set up a kind of “Philanthropy in the City” group run by ex-City women, for various good causes. Weirdly, Marion inspired it. I mean, I know she’s a pain in the arse, but she actually does loads for charity and this would be a way of incorporating my skills. Encouraging investors to give a percentage of what they earn on their hedge funds to charity. There are a few companies who do it already but I’m sure there’s room for another . . .’

‘It’s a great idea,’ I said. ‘I mean, you’re a natural at helping people. You’ve always been there for me. Plus you’re very persuasive.’

‘Is that code for bossy and controlling?’ She laughed and I joined her.

‘Sure is.’ I heard Holly gurgle then and suddenly I’d felt something deep within me, an ache, a pang, totally soundless but at the same time louder than anything I’d ever heard. As loud as a ticking clock. I imagined the time ball dropping again. Another sign.

Adam had suggested we rent our flat out. ‘Then when I get back maybe we can look for a new place, somewhere we both want to live, somewhere with a garden that will be great for, you know . . . starting a family. It will be different, this time,’ Adam had said softly. ‘I promise.’

I glance back over my shoulder as if sensing his presence. But there’s no one there. A young couple, about my age, are walking down the street, their arms wrapped round each other, and seeing them makes my heart expand. They look so right together. Like nothing could ever break them apart.

I go inside and get in the lift that will take me to the top floor. I feel like my life is at its highest pinnacle. I’m teetering on the brink of a new world, one that I’m completely ready for.

As the doors open into the glass sphere that is set into the centre of the roof terrace I can’t help but gasp with pride at how my and James’s vision has been brought to life. Under the convex dome of the glass roof arched trellises form an inner dome and a fragrant floral canopy is woven up them. The flowers that grow on the trellis can be seasonal but for tonight we decided on red, star-shaped cosmos. This was both a nod to James’s Chelsea Garden but also to me because it’s my birth flower. I also like how their red leaves make the glass sphere look even more like the Royal Observatory’s time ball. It was, James says, one of the concepts that had won us our pitch. The glittering night sky is just visible through the flowers now so it looks like stars upon stars – and the roof has been designed to open on sunny days like the petals of a flower.

I step outside the glass sphere and onto the terrace. People are still running around, checking up on things, and I get caught up in a few last-minute adjustments, electrical problems and a couple of other design issues to deal with. As the decks clear ready for the first guests I look around and realise that everything has come together on time. There are not many things I have been certain of in my life, but for some reason with this I always knew it would.

On the terrace we have embraced the work/play/day/night themes to create a completely original space that is breathtaking.

The 2,000 square foot glass walled-space has been lined with trees and planters and in the centre is a ‘Grow your own herb tea and juice bar’. Lemon and orange trees, chilli plants and a herb garden have been sunk into the middle of the beautifully designed brushed concrete bar and there are ten Eames stools either side of it, in front of each one is an iPad dock. The idea being that the agency staff can come here first thing in the morning, pick their own mint for tea, or camomile, or lemon, and make their own breakfast beverage. Underneath the bar is a locked cupboard full of alcohol so in the evenings and for special events it can be transformed into a cocktail bar.

Uplit silver birch trees and grasses give the effect of living wallpaper. In one corner, in front of the modern terrazzo furniture, there is a contemporary water feature made up of a moss-covered hour glass shape with the front cut back to reveal the Perspex tubes inside where water runs both up and down. It has been designed to remind the staff of the passing of each hour, the toing and froing of time, even when they are relaxing on one of the built-in recliners.

‘Pretty impressive, for your first project, Bea.’ James folds his arms as he stands next to me, smiling at a waiter who offers him a glass of champagne. He takes a sip and rests the glass on his elbow.

I turn and smile at him. ‘I’ve loved every moment, James. Thank you for giving me the opportunity . . .’

‘I’m just glad we crossed paths when we did. It’s a shame it’s all over really, isn’t it?’ he says, giving me a sideways look. ‘I’d like to give you more opportunities, you know, take you on as a permanent assistant . . .’ His words hang in the cold, night air like stars.

‘Thank you,’ I say gratefully after a moment. ‘But I’ve decided I really want to go back to university to finish my degree. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be living in London.’

I think of my twenty-two-year-old self and how I became paralysed by my mistakes, unable to trust in any of my decisions. Even the right ones. And much as I love this job and it’s been hard knowing I’ll have to leave it behind, it’s country gardens I love and gardens I want to design. It’s time to go back to my roots. ‘I’ve been accepted by UEA in Norwich to do my final year and complete my degree – thanks to this job. I start in September.’

‘Not Greenwich?’ he says in surprise and I shake my head.

‘They couldn’t fit me in, and besides, I have this real urge to go home. I realise I’ve been fighting it the whole time I’ve lived in London. I’ve been trying to resist the pull back to the wide-open skies and beaches – and, of course, my family . . .’ I smile. The ones who have always been there at every turn. Now I’ve faced up to my past, finally told them about what happened that night on the pier, I can stop running scared. I’m not going to get sucked back to the past. I’m not going to get ill again. I’m not the same person I was before. Life has moved on,
I’ve
moved on.

James hugs me and gives me a paternal squeeze. ‘I don’t blame you, it’s a very special place. And at least I’m not losing you until September. I’ll have you for another six months, right?’ He smiles. ‘And you’re welcome to assist me as part of your final-year project. Or look for an office for me in East Anglia,’ he adds teasingly. ‘I’ve wanted to expand the business for a while so I can do bigger, more horticultural, countryside-based projects. It just hasn’t been the right moment till now as I just haven’t known who to do it with. What do you say? It feels like fate, doesn’t it?’

I nod delightedly as he flicks a switch so the terrace is flooded with warm light just as the first guests come trickling through.

An hour later and the party is buzzing. Champagne and canapés are whirling around the room in an endless cycle, a hundred guests are moving easily around the space, and I’ve lost count of the amount of compliments James and I have received. He keeps coming up and telling me of yet another corporate company who want us to transform their outdoor space in Soho, Hoxton, Chiswick, Pimlico, Poplar. I’ve chatted to Adam’s old colleagues who have all lavished praise and thanks on me. They can’t hide their surprise that the temp has turned her life around. Most of them have asked if Adam will be coming tonight and I had to tell them that I don’t know.

I think he will, I feel he will, and I trust my instincts. I just don’t
know
.

Chapter 70

Bea Bishop is on top of the world.

34 likes.

It’s still dark when I wake up and it takes me a moment to get my bearings. My entire body is encased in the kind of warmth that only comes from having another person spooning you. The weight of Adam’s arm lies across my body like an anchor. That sums up how I’ve felt in the weeks since we got back together in Goa: moored. He nuzzles my neck and I turn over so I’m facing him. His exhales are long and deep which tells me he’s still asleep. He’s always been an easy sleeper and that hasn’t changed, but while I’ve always tossed and turned, now I’m finding myself waking up in the exact same position I fell asleep in. It’s as if even in sleep I know that I’m exactly where I want to be.

We have been inseparable since that night on the beach but after staying on there together for an extra week to talk about our future, we decided we couldn’t move back to Adam’s flat. Instead we’ve been staying here at Milly’s. It’s convenient for working at the flower shop but we’ve also been going to Loni’s on my days off. I’ve loved showing Adam around the Norfolk coast; he’s been getting to know my home – and my family – better. In all the years we were together, we only went to Loni’s a handful of times. I was too scared of facing up to everything.

Not any more.

I look at the clock, see that it is before 5 a.m. and I close my eyes again. But I can hear my brain click into gear, the ticking sound of my thoughts going round in a circle. I haven’t slept past 5 a.m. for weeks despite staying up till the small hours with Adam most nights. It’s like the days aren’t long enough to catch up on the year we’ve lost. We find ourselves going to bed, talking, kissing, laughing, making love and then talking some more. We’re not the same couple we were when we first got together because we are happier individuals than before. It is that which makes this feel like the best possible kind of new relationship. We don’t have that awkwardness that comes with unfamiliarity – the threat of a silence that needs to be filled, the urgent desire to impress which makes you act unlike yourself. But neither are we making any assumptions about each other. We have unearthed our roots, repotted ourselves and are growing together now, instead of apart.