Page 38 of The Love of Our Lives

The next month goes by in a blur as I finally put together my photography portfolio for Emily’s college application. I feel certain this was important to her – just like Cat with her nursing training. Except, because of me, Cat never even got the chance to apply, let alone get accepted.

And I won’t let that happen to Emily too – I won’t ruin her legacy like that.

I can’t deny I’m enjoying the application process, though, and like with everything I’ve done so far, I find my soul come alive as I stretch myself; seeing what else I can do in this healthy body.

And perhaps when I’m back in my old life, I could become a photographer too. There was nothing physically stopping me, I’m realising.

I feel a little bad when William comes calling, asking if I’m coming to dance classes, but I really don’t have much time left – I have to get this done for her.

Anyway, I know he’s had his eye on a woman called Ruth who goes every week; even joked he might ask her out for a tea.

So maybe this could be his opportunity to do something about it?

I struggle a little with the application, figuring out exactly what kind of story I’m looking to tell with my pictures; what I’m trying to say with all these images I’ve taken around the city.

In the end, I just take the plunge and do it – finish the project and send it off.

I know that at the end of the day, there’s no perfect way to do anything. You just have to take a shot.

I wish I could talk it over with Charlie but she’s made it abundantly clear she doesn’t want to see me right now, and anytime I’ve called the flat, Sven gently tells me she’s not up for company right now.

I can’t even talk to Adam about it, the person who actually put me in touch with Daphne in the first place, but I know it’s not appropriate now – not fair on him either.

We haven’t spent any time together back in Edinburgh and, although it hurts, I know it’s still for the best. Sometimes I catch myself glancing across at his door when I’m back from a run or see him from my window heading off to the workshop and I feel something I don’t even want to think about. Can’t think about.

Because falling for him now, when I’ve realised who I need to see next, is even less of an option. And, just like with Cat and Fraser, I’m starting to think that what happened between Emily and Simon was a simple misunderstanding – something stupid which didn’t mean anything.

But unlike with Cat, I can actually tell Simon that.

I can make it right again, if that’s what he wants too, which I’m assuming he does from the amount he’s been messaging.

I worry about him a lot in all of this, of course – the devastation he’ll feel when Emily goes.

But the truth is, I know from seeing Fraser after the funeral that he’d have given anything to have had those final days with Cat.

And even though Simon is going to lose Emily at the end of all of this, I’m pretty sure he’d still want that final time with a special person like her – even if that time is short.

I’m just placing the last of my clothes in Emily’s fancy suitcase, zipping it up, when my phone starts ringing.

Fran.

‘Hello.’ I smile.

‘E! You all set?’

‘Just about; still deciding on how many ball gowns I need for this wedding weekend.’

She laughs, her genuine, warm one. ‘Don’t be silly, we only need your wonderful self . . . and on that note, are you bringing anyone? Adam perhaps?’

I sigh because we’ve been over this already. ‘You know we’re not together anymore.’

‘But why not?’ she says. ‘It was all going so well before.’

‘I’m just not sure if it’s the right thing for me.’

A pause. ‘Is this about Simon? I thought we talked about that – about him not deserving you.’

‘I know,’ I say eventually, ‘but I think it might have all been a misunderstanding. I just need to spend a little time with him while I’m down – see if we can fix it.’

A silence follows, and I can tell she really doesn’t approve, which irritates me slightly but then I guess she’s just looking out for me. There’s something else there too – a tingle in my chest, a sensation I can’t quite put my finger on.

‘Well, I guess you have to see him at the wedding anyway,’ Fran concedes eventually, and the tingle fades away. ‘When are you coming anyway?’

‘Today, actually; I’m getting the train down this morning.’

‘Oh, amazing,’ she says, ‘do you want to get drinks later? I can let Toby know—’

‘Not today,’ I say quickly, ‘I’ve got something else I need to do first but I’ll see you at the lunch tomorrow.’

‘All right,’ Fran says happily, ‘tomorrow then.’

It’s as I’m heading out the building to the train station a little later, that I run into William again, coming back in.

‘Oh, hello,’ I say breathlessly.

‘Hello yourself,’ William says. He eyes my suitcase. ‘Off already?’

I nod. I eventually told him I was going to London; asked him to look after Ferris while I was gone, and while he begrudgingly agreed, I can tell he secretly likes that cat.

‘Lovely,’ he says, ‘and will we see you back at classes when you return?’

‘Possibly,’ I say faintly, ‘But I don’t actually know when I’m coming back right now.’

William frowns, a slightly hurt expression on his face. He starts to walk by, when I say, ‘how’s it going with Ruth?’

‘How’s what going?’ he says gruffly, looking back. ‘Such nonsense, I’m too old for any of that anyway.’

‘No, you’re not,’ I start, surprised by the turn in events. ‘Why don’t you just give it a shot?’

‘Why don’t you give it a shot with Adam?’ He fires back, and I close my mouth.

‘That’s what I thought,’ he says, letting himself into his flat now. ‘But run away back to London now, don’t mind us.’

‘William,’ I start, moving towards him.

‘Just remember it’s three months’ notice on the flat,’ he says before shutting the door firmly.

And all I can think is, I’ll be gone by then .

A little later, I’m on the train, cream cheese bagel and hot coffee on the table in front of me. People are still walking into the carriage, checking the tickets above the slightly cramped seats, saying ‘sorry, sorry’ as they stuff bags up on to racks and slide into seats.

Taking a sip of the rich liquid, I lean my head back against the headrest, try to calm myself after that tense chat with William.

He just doesn’t understand what I’m going through, how hard this all is for me too.

I barely slept last night; tossed and turned until the early hours as I thought about Adam, thought about Simon, until I finally woke up drenched in sweat.

Because it still feels so wrong, leaving Adam like I am, like some invisible bit of string is holding us together somehow.

And even the thought of going to London in itself is causing some discomfort I can’t quite explain, but I know I have to explore this for Emily.

I have to see Simon again and find out if there’s still something there between them.

If that’s what she wanted.

I suppose, when I really think about it, why would Emily not have loved Simon still?

They had the most passionate of starts and he’s everything any woman could possibly look for – and not just in terms of the glamour and the wealth.

From that short meet-up we had, from all the glimmers of the past, I know that he was kind too.

I can feel it. Plus, maybe she realised that she’d played some part in it all too, what with her awful work hours.

But what about Adam?

What about my list?

Because it really is clear now what I was trying to do before – and it wasn’t about Emily.

None of it before Charlie’s accident was really.

It was me who wanted to drive and to dance, to go out till dawn and ski down a mountain.

But although I might wish I could go travel the world now and have those big experiences I always dreamed of, this is not my life to mess up, and I have to think about Emily and her loved ones too.

Make sure nothing else gets thrown off-course.

The thought unsettles me and I can feel something else prodding at me.

But a moment later, the whistle sounds, and the thought is gone.

The carriage jolts forwards and then we’re off, slowly at first, then faster and faster, out past the great Georgian structures of Edinburgh I know and love so well, out past trees and houses and gardens, out past washing fluttering in the breeze, out past trees and fields towards the unknown.

I turn to the glass, see my reflection looking back at me, and for the briefest of moments, I see her smile back at me, and I get one of those sensations again, that inexplicable feeling that our tracks are aligning perfectly: Emily and I, together on the train, down to London.

Then, just as quickly, our tracks diverge in a rush of metal and noise and the moment is gone. I turn back to the table, feeling all shades of strange, but confident at least that I’m going in the right direction again.

The train bullets down the length of the country – past the Millennium Bridge at Newcastle, Darlington, the ancient city of York, all the way down to the country’s capital, and all I can do is stare out the windows, thinking that in all my thirty years, this is somehow the furthest I’ve ever been.

I don’t know why exactly, given my parents liked to travel so much before they had kids.

Mum used to tour the world with the orchestra after all, but then three girls and one heart condition later, I suppose it got harder to go away.

But I wish she would. And perhaps she might again, if I branched out first – showed her that I can live differently too.

I just wish I could talk to Mum properly – I will talk to her about it, when I’m back in my old life.