Page 19 of The Love of Our Lives

I start running every morning after that, and as the trees turn a chestnut brown, I get into something close to a stride.

I jog all the way back up to the Pentlands where Adam took me before, down beneath the city and along the wooded foot paths.

I head back to the Botanics and stare out across that panoramic expanse of the city, from the jagged Old Town all the way to Arthur’s Seat, and as October winds whip around me, I feel the softness of the orange headband on my skin.

I stop walking by my parents’ house because it all gets too much, watching myself decline.

And not just that, I have no idea when I’ll ever get back to my old life.

So to try and be close to my family like I am is only going to end up freaking them out; no good can come from hovering near my actual home.

But every Wednesday I make sure to run past Jess and the boys in the park, and although it’s something, I can’t help thinking about my parents too – Mum in particular.

After all, I’ve never been far from her in my whole life.

But I feel confused, because as much as I miss her, there’s a strange sort of freedom to not being around her – all of them – which I’m recognising now.

Because my condition didn’t only affect me, it affected everyone I loved too: Cat who was hampered by what I could and couldn’t do until she left home, my dad who had to stay as a professor in Edinburgh instead of going abroad like I know he wanted to, my mum who had to stop being a flutist in an orchestra to care for me.

And then there was Jess, my baby sister, whose birthdays were overshadowed by hospital stints and cancelled holidays and school dances forgotten.

And then after it happened, after we lost Cat so shockingly, well, there was nothing which could compel me to make the situation even worse for everybody.

I’d done enough already.

I start hanging out with Adam more and more, just as friends, of course.

Sometimes we go to the Purple Pineapple for coffee and a carrot cake the size of our heads when he’s back from the workshop, and sometimes we just while away a couple of hours talking about rubbish.

He introduces me to a few of the eateries in the area too – Greek, Turkish and Italian, food from countries he’s actually been to but I never have.

The places are entirely new to me and yet, occasionally, I find myself recognising a waitress or the order of things on the menu.

I think of that box of leftover ramen the first day, the way Fran said Emily ate nothing but grilled fish in a place like London.

Did Emily come to these places too?

In any event, I’m trying more and more new foods, and getting a little more adventurous each time. I even start to have the odd glass of wine with my meals, something I’d never have dared to do before, but I find that in small amounts, it really does relax me.

Turns out Adam and I have the same penchant for old John Hughes films and we quickly form a little routine of nipping across the hall to each other’s and watching one on his laptop with a bowl of popcorn between us.

I haven’t felt so comfortable with anyone in a long time, where we can just sit in silence together or chat about nothing for three hours in a row.

Of course, I had a couple of close friends from school and at the travel agency, but as with every relationship after Cat, they became harder and harder to maintain as I got sicker, until eventually they disappeared.

I speak to Fran over the phone from time to time too, and I can’t help laughing at her directness, the way she simply says, ‘Well, have you snogged him yet?’

So very like Jess.

I sometimes wonder why Emily’s parents never call me – as much as I would be terrified to answer – and not for the first time, I question whether they’re even still alive. Otherwise, why would they not be in touch?

But it’s just not something I think I should delve into. It’s not something I want to delve into, because quite honestly, I’m starting to enjoy myself.

I did get a text from an unknown number the other day though, and my heart started to pound oddly as I opened up the message.

But it just said three words:

I miss you xx

I couldn’t say for certain who it was, of course, but if I had to guess then I’d say it was probably Simon.

And I immediately felt nervous because from everything I saw in those photos of Emily and him, he definitely meant a lot to her, no matter what happened with that receipt.

But I just had no idea what to say or what to do; he wasn’t asking for any sort of response after all, and I knew Emily had made the decision to walk away from him, so, quite guiltily, I left it.

I’m still not sure if it’s such a great idea though, hanging out with Adam like I am.

I can’t deny I’m attracted to him, those amazing eyes, those strong shoulders, oh god, he sets my heart racing when I see him.

But it’s not just about how he looks, it’s the rest of him too – how he’s always up for trying new things, how he got me a second helping of that cannelloni I went crazy about in the Italian along the road, how we always fall about laughing on what has quickly become our regular hill walks (he’s tried to get me up an actual Munro, though I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet).

But just the idea of it going further gives me absolute panic too.

How could I deceive him like that? It’s one thing living Emily’s life while I have no choice, but starting something up with someone?

What if I suddenly go back to my old life and Emily comes back to this one and everyone is left utterly confused?

No, it’s not fair to anyone. Anyway, I get the impression he’s not one to stick around for very long.

And I’m just not willing to put myself through that sort of pain again.

I’m taking more photos though, and I’m quietly surprised by how much I’m enjoying something else – like a simple creative switch has got me looking at everything from a slightly different angle.

I’m coming back from a little afternoon photography session on the seafront about a week later, checking back on the photos I took – of the blue of the water under still-clear skies, of a solo paddleboarder floating out on the gentle waves – when I find myself going past the charity shop where Mum works sometimes.

And thinking about it now, Tuesday is one of those days.

My heart quickens and I pause outside the shop for a moment, uncertain what I’m doing exactly.

Then I see her in the window, dressing one of the mannequins.

I can’t help smiling at the top she’s put on it, in a burnt orange – her favourite colour – plus a cream scarf, which she’s tying neatly in a bow.

As though sensing something, she looks out at me and I freeze.

But after a moment’s hesitation, I head inside.

I’ve been here before, of course; helped Mum sort some of the stock out once or twice.

There’s something lovely and familiar about the slightly musty scent of second-hand books and clothes, bric-a-brac and random lampshades, and most importantly, my mother’s light floral perfume.

I’m still windswept from all that time on the beach and I’m aware I must look a little dishevelled, but Mum just smiles at me in that slightly stressed way she does, as she unpacks a box at the counter.

‘Can I help you with anything?’ she says distractedly. ‘Or are you just here for a browse?’

‘Oh, the latter,’ I say and pretend to look around. My heart is pounding even as I’m sifting through clothes rails, and I can feel her glancing at me from time to time as my mind whirs with questions. Should I talk to her? What should I talk about? Can she sense I’m here at all? The real me.

Eventually my eyes light on a sea-blue colour, and I pluck a pretty blouse off the rail.

I can’t help wondering if this is what Emily started doing sometimes, away from London and her usual designer shops.

Did she sell most of it? All the stuff in her wardrobe is a bit random, the labels slightly dated or unknown, and I’ve already found makeshift tags on a few items. So maybe this is something I could start doing too.

‘That would look very pretty on you,’ Mum says behind me and I snap around to see her standing there, all formal and business-like now. ‘Would you like to try it on?’

I pause, uncertain. ‘All right,’ I say, and she takes it from me in that efficient way she has, hangs it up in the little cubicle at the back. Walking inside, I smile at her briefly, before pulling the curtain shut. Standing in front of the mirror, I let myself breathe out.

What the hell am I doing?

After a moment, I realise I have to actually try it on and finally change into the blue blouse. I have to admit I really like the colour. I turn to the side to admire it.

‘Everything OK in there?’ Mum says, and I look up. Walking out on to the shop floor a second later, Mum assesses me.

‘Well,’ she says, ‘isn’t that pretty on you? It really brings out your eyes.’

I realise Mum has more sales skills than I knew, though I know she’s being genuine too – she may be blunt, but with that bluntness comes real truth.

‘Do you like it?’ she says.

‘Yes, I do actually; I love the colour.’

‘Me too,’ she says a little more softly. ‘Will you be taking it then?’

‘Yes.’ I nod. ‘I think I will.’

‘Great.’ Mum smiles, walking smartly back around to the till. ‘Feel free to wear it out of here. I always say that’s the best sign, if you want to wear something immediately.’

‘All right,’ I say, happy to hear the familiar words.

Picking up my sweater from the changing room floor, I put Emily’s red coat straight back on over my new top and head over to the till – I’ve never owned a red coat before and I felt genuine excitement when it got cold enough to finally put it on.

‘Any nice plans for the evening?’ she says after I’ve paid.

‘Not sure yet. I might grab an early dinner somewhere then just see what happens, I guess.’

She smiles, though it’s sadder than before for some reason, and I wonder what I’ve said.

‘Are you OK?’ I find myself asking, and her eyes immediately brighten again. ‘Oh yes, of course,’ she waves me off quickly, ‘nothing for you to worry about, go out there and enjoy yourself in your new top.’

‘I will.’ I still feel mildly confused by this whole exchange but say nothing as I head back over to the door.

‘And drop in again soon,’ Mum says. ‘We get lots of lovely stock in regularly.’

‘All right,’ I say and my chest fills with warmth at the prospect of seeing her again, and without my heart – and everything it comes with – hanging over us too. As I open the door with a little tinkle from the bell, I look at her and say, ‘See you soon.’

Mum.

Just like I said, I head off afterwards, not quite knowing where the night will take me.

I feel this hum of happiness in my chest from seeing Mum; from simply engaging with her in that easy, normal way.

For as long as I can remember, the dynamic between us has always been set in stone – she tells me what to do (or what not to do, rather) and I just go along with it for everyone’s sake.

There’s so little play, so little fun, so little of us actually enjoying each other as equals, I’m realising now.

It felt good to speak to her on fresh terms.

I think about Mum’s sad look as I go though, wondering what that was all about. She always kept such a front around me; always scarily organised and tough, unless we spoke about Cat, that is. I’m tempted to go and see her again soon to find out.

I walk all the way back to the flat, enjoying the cool evening air.

The lights are coming up around the dusky city like fireflies, and I find myself thinking about Adam again, wondering if he might be around when I get back, if I might get to see him this evening.

Just daydreaming about him gives me butterflies but I know it’s a dangerous thing to feel.

Something that can only end in upset. But as I arrive at the building, I see Adam already standing in front of it, smiling as I approach.

He’s in jeans, a white t-shirt and black puffer jacket. My stomach flips.

‘I was just about to message you,’ he says, and a ripple of warmth goes through me.

‘I’m heading out to meet Charlie and Sven for drinks tonight,’ he adds. ‘You game?’

I think again of Mum in the shop; how different things felt with her, in a good way. And that perhaps in the strangest of twists, I’ve been given a second chance here.

Before I can overthink it, I say, ‘I’m game.’