Page 43 of All Summer Long
The unfamiliar sound of rain on the Airstream roof heralded the arrival of morning, heavy grey clouds ushering in the end of their summer idyll.
They dressed quietly, pausing sometimes to hug hard or kiss slow, not saying very much because there wasn’t much left unsaid.
It was a little after seven when Robinson closed the Airstream door for the last time, laying his hand flat against it for a few seconds before turning away.
Alice walked beside him in her red wellingtons, not bothering with an umbrella because she wanted her hands free to hold his, to hold him.
They made their way slowly through the woods, the leaves all glossy with the much needed rain.
England had sweltered for weeks under the heat of the summer, unexpected bliss for the humans, not so much for the parched plants and trees.
The rain gilded the scorched meadow grass where they went to bid farewell to Banjo.
Alice needed to look away when the horse dipped his huge head against Robinson’s shoulder, still and sombre as Robinson whispered words she couldn’t hear and stroked Banjo’s velvet soft nose.
‘You should ride him,’ he said as they walked back across the meadow. ‘I think he’d like it.’
Alice nodded. ‘I will. Promise.’
Her fingers tangled with his as they walked the gardens, pausing at the tree house, and again at the yurt.
‘You should be proud of everything you’ve done here,’ he said. ‘It’s going to be brilliant. You’re going to be brilliant.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, trying to smile and struggling because her mouth was trembling with the effort of swallowing her tears. She didn’t want their last moments to be sad, even though they were the saddest of times.
His cases were packed and ready in the manor, his guitar leaning against the wall.
A glance at the clock told her his taxi would be here in five minutes, and she wanted each of those minutes to matter.
‘This is it, then,’ he said, holding both of her hands.
‘Time to go,’ she whispered, watching a rivulet of rain run slowly down the side of his face. His damp lashes spiked around his beautiful green eyes, and his full mouth had never tasted sweeter than when she stood on tiptoe to press her lips against his.
‘It’s been more than I ever expected it to be,’ he said, holding her against him. Their clothes were damp and clung to them as they clung to each other.
‘A life-changing summer,’ she said, with the smallest, saddest smile. ‘I’m so very glad you came, Robinson.’
‘I’ll never forget it,’ he said, crushing her against him as the sound of tyres and increased activity out on the drive alerted them to the arrival of his cab.
Alice fought the desperate urge to throw the bolts across the door and keep him for ever. ‘I’ll always remember it,’ she said, instead.
A horn tooted and he stepped reluctantly back.
‘Ready?’ she said, standing behind the door.
‘Stay out of sight,’ he reminded her. ‘And remember the golden rule of holiday romances.’
She nodded. ‘Don’t call.’
‘I won’t, either,’ he said. ‘But know this, Alice. Every time I don’t, it’ll be because I’ve had to stop myself, not because I didn’t want to.’
And with that, he touched his fingers to his forehead in silent salute, and then opened the door to a deluge of flashbulbs.
Robinson moved his cases outside and closed the door, his game face well and truly in place as he faced the waiting press.
‘Robinson, over here!’
‘Robinson, is it true that you’re having an affair with Brad McBride’s wife?’
‘Robinson, are you planning a permanent move to the UK?’
The shouts came at him from all angles, and he held up his hands to silence them. Once the hubbub had calmed down and he had their attention, he spoke.
‘I’d like to thank everyone in England for their hospitality and kindness. I’ve spent the time here writing, and I hope to come back real soon.’ Even as he said it he knew he’d never return to Borne.
‘Tell us about Alice, Robinson!’
He looked at the guy who’d shouted from the back of the pack.
What could he possibly say about Alice that was fit for public ears?
He knew many things about her, all of them too intimate to share with the world.
She looks like a beautiful mermaid in the bath?
She looks like an angel when she sleeps?
He thought both of those things and many more besides, but he couldn’t say them.
Digging in his jacket pocket, he pulled out a pen and an old receipt and scrawled something on it.
The press hounds watched him with baited breath, waiting to see if he’d hold it up for them to see, but he just turned and pushed it through the letterbox.
‘Just an IOU, folks. Forgot to settle the bill.’
He dipped his head and jumped into the cab, shutting the impromptu press conference down abruptly without any further comment.
The slip of paper fell through the letterbox and fluttered onto the slate tiled hallway. Alice waited until the taxi had disappeared through the jostle of photographers before she picked it up, taking it through to the kitchen to read his bold, masculine script.
‘Keep listening for the sea, Goldilocks.’
She closed her eyes as she pressed the slip of paper against her heart and listened really hard, but all she could hear was the rain drumming on the kitchen window.