Page 33 of The Love of Our Lives

‘Now move back into a parallel park here please.’

Clutching the wheel of the instructor’s car, I glance at the woman beside me with her curly black hair and poker face. As smoothly as I can, I pull the car into the space behind us, even as my legs are shaking above the pedals.

I’m almost too scared to check if I’ve done it right, but when I turn around to the examiner again, I know from the curt little nod that I nailed it.

As the examiner starts making notes on her screen, I look out the window past her to where Charlie is standing. She gives me two thumbs up.

All the same, when the examiner puts her hands on her lap and turns to me, I can’t help but gulp air down.

Please, please, please .

‘Well,’ she says, ‘you’ll be happy to know that you passed with flying colours, Emily. Congratulations.’

I immediately grin, reach in to hug the lady who lets out a yelp of surprise, until her shoulders soften slightly.

‘Well done,’ she says again into my shoulder, before pulling briskly back. ‘Now go tell that friend of yours out there.’ She cocks her eyebrow. ‘She’s starting to creep me out standing at the window like that.’

As soon as I’m out the car, Charlie rushes up to hug me. ‘I knew you could do it,’ she says, squeezing me tight.

‘But then I did have a pretty great instructor.’

She shakes her head of blonde curls.

‘It was all you, Emily,’ she says, ‘I could never have passed it in a bloody month. So, what now? What are you planning to do with this new freedom?’

‘Drive,’ I say, ‘to our ski trip this weekend.’

We’re almost at the end of the ski season already, and I know this is what Emily wanted to do from the flyers I found, so it’s now or never.

I’ll be sad to miss the dance class with William on Friday though, and I suspect he will be too, post-dance dinner included.

It’s become something of a routine with him these days, and he’s really coming out of his shell; staying out later and wanting to go new places.

Just like me. But when I suggested he reach out to his brother and family again, he shook his head; told me it really had been too long.

‘How are you feeling about seeing Adam?’ Charlie says carefully.

‘A little confused,’ I say, because of course it will be strange to see him up there. Particularly after Simon’s visit and all the emotions that’s raised in me.

Charlie bites her lip, like she’s got something on her mind.

I frown. ‘What is it?’

‘Oh god, I was in two minds about saying anything . . .’ she starts, ‘but I think it’s probably better that you know. Because I love both you and Adam, and I just want the two of you to be happy.’

‘Does this have anything to do with Claire?’ I say now, my heart thumping.

And she nods. ‘They were engaged, you see.’

My heart plummets.

‘Then he called it off,’ she ploughs on, ‘a few weeks before the wedding. Claire was absolutely devastated and I feel awful telling you this, but I’m just not sure Adam’s got it in him to stay in one place. He had a difficult time growing up—’

‘I know,’ I cut through, feeling all sorts of strange again – another sort of déjà vu feeling when she mentioned Claire – and not for the first time, I wonder what happened exactly with Emily and Adam.

There was something, I’m sure, I just don’t know what or how much.

A moment later it is gone, leaving me still reeling from Charlie’s revelation about what happened with Claire.

‘You OK?’ Charlie says now, looking concerned. ‘It’s just that, after what you’ve already been through with Simon, I’m not sure being with someone who struggles to commit fully is a great plan for you. But I feel really bad for saying anything now . . .’

‘Oh, it’s fine,’ I say, even as my heart thuds, ‘thanks for looking out for me.’

Charlie looks relieved.

‘You still keen to come too, even if you’re not skiing?’ I say finally, willing her to say yes. Because I really need her there – I need her support more than she even knows.

‘Of course,’ she says brightly. ‘I’m looking forward to getting some mountain air before the baby comes.’

‘Great,’ I say. ‘It’s going to be epic.’

‘Truly epic,’ she agrees, a big smile on her face once again.

The two of us set off early doors on the Friday in Adam’s van, except this time, I’m driving.

I can’t help feeling a little nervous driving something this big – wonder if I should have practised in the city first, as Adam had gently suggested.

But there’s no time like the present and, clutching the steering wheel, I keep my eyes on the road.

With the glittering cold Firth of Forth rushing away behind us, I can’t help thinking of the last time Adam and I drove up north.

That first incredible night we spent together back in November.

Things are so different now.

But still, I’m just happy to actually be doing this.

We talk away about the activities I’ve been doing, what pieces he’s making at the moment, until we eventually fall into a comfortable silence listening to the tinny radio together.

He doesn’t raise Simon’s visit and neither do I, but I can’t help wanting to explain what happened.

Which was ultimately nothing in the end.

But at the same time, I feel very confused.

Simon’s been messaging more and more since we met and I’m scared to admit I’ve been enjoying it – that I feel this rush of delight when I get one.

Because ever since that evening in the Purple Pineapple, I’ve been getting so many more memories back – of those years at Oxford together, always hoping, always wondering if Simon Carmichael might feel the same.

And then finally it happened . . . not at university, but in London.

A rainy work night out with Fran right after I turned twenty-five and the three of us had far too many, and then that kiss I had with him at the end of the night.

He was exactly the person I’d always seen myself with – exactly who my mother had always seen me with too – and he’d taken me on a ‘proper’ date to a Michelin-starred French restaurant the following week: champagne, red wine, his startling blue eyes on mine.

I fell hard and fast, and by the end of the month, we were in love.

So many sights and sounds, so many glimmers and flashes and sensations, which are getting under my skin almost as though they’re my own.

And I’m becoming convinced Emily must have been torn about what to do – receipt or no receipt.

Because I remember more about that too now, why it triggered me to go.

And it wasn’t just about a little bit of paper.

It was about a growing distance between us as I worked all the time; how sometimes I would come home late to find him not yet in either; how sometimes I would catch Simon texting in bed late at night before he would hurriedly put the phone down and say it was work.

But at the same time, I can’t help thinking about the look in his eyes in the café, the warmth from him.

He still loves me, I know he does – he wants to marry me.

So maybe it was just in Emily’s imagination.

Maybe she was tired and stressed and struggling, like I already know she was.

And no matter the electric pull I have towards Adam, this isn’t about me and what I want anymore.

This is about Emily and figuring out what she wanted at the end – and who.

I spoke to Fran about it all, of course, and while she listened to all the details of my meet-up with Simon, I could tell she didn’t approve that we were still in touch – thought I should close a door on the whole thing and move on.

You deserve better , she’d said, a particular firmness to her voice.

And I found myself wondering if there was anything else Fran knew about Simon.

But then I reasoned with myself that after everything Emily and her had been through together, she would surely just say.

Now, as we drive past tumbling snowy fields and the odd puffing chimney, with the Cairngorms looming up in the distance, I have this soothing feeling of coming home.

We used to come up here twice a year, after all – it was easy enough to drive to, and more importantly, not too far from the hospital in Inverness.

But was this really such a good idea? I haven’t been since Cat died and, to be honest, I’m really not sure how I’ll feel about it. Will I cope?

Everything else was booked in the area when we checked though, and I had this feeling that the cottage might be free – they don’t rent it out all the time. So, I’ll just have to get on with it.

I’ll just have to be fine.

Bumping down the country track towards the loch now, I concentrate on the driving, trying my best not to skid off to the side. But Adam’s van holds steady beneath me and I feel his reassuring presence beside me.

‘Where exactly are we staying again?’ Adam says as he looks out at the tall, white-powdered trees above him.

‘You’ll see,’ I say, spotting a sign up ahead finally with the name ‘Inch Cottage’ on the gate.

‘Here we go.’ I swing the van right down a final track and there it is, right by the loch – all thick white walls and red iron roof, set in its own rambling garden. Just like I remember.

‘Wow,’ Adam exclaims, ‘this place is amazing.’ He squints out the window at the smoke puffing up from the chimney.

As we get of the van, the red kitchen door opens up wide and Charlie tumbles into the snow, closely followed by Sven.

‘You’re here!’ she cries, running towards me in the most enormous furry winter boots. She’s wearing a sparkly pink sweater, her bump beginning to slightly protrude from it, and as she envelops me in a big hug, I feel the firmness of it pressing against my abdomen.

Sven walks out now in just a t-shirt and jeans, and in seconds the four of us are chatting and exclaiming and hugging. As we head into the warmth, I catch Adam’s eye at the last moment, feel electric sparks rush through me.