Page 1 of Try Hard

Fia

T here really was nothing like trying to hide your nipple piercings from your parents.

But, here I was, subtly running a hand down my own chest as I stood in my parents’ kitchen, hoping the small bars weren’t standing out through layers of fabric.

Perhaps your mid-to-late thirties was a time to stop worrying about your parents telling you off for what you did to your body.

If you were old enough to get your nipples pierced, weren’t you old enough to stop worrying about your parents’ judgment? Not yet. Maybe next year.

Thankfully, though, the late March weather was being oddly cooperative, at least when it came to wearing layers.

Mum hadn’t stopped complaining about how cold it was and how much it was ruining the arrival of her flowers.

Apparently, this time last year, they’d been basking in the backyard.

I couldn’t speak to that. This time last year, I hadn’t even been at my home—and, if I had, I still might not be able to weigh in.

There tended to be a difference in weather between London and Eddlesworth, the cute town I’d grown up in and where my parents still lived.

But, as it so happened, I’d been in Bali, where the weather had definitely been different.

Ironic, really, that I’d been in Bali a year ago given that it was Bali that had brought me home this year.

Well, not exactly, but it was still relevant.

What had actually brought me home was a friend from secondary school’s wedding.

She just happened to be going to Bali on her honeymoon. Apparently, she’d read my review.

When I’d found Kimberley Huston’s voicemail message on my phone—after refraining from answering seven of her calls because I didn’t know her number and she refused to leave a message or text to let me know who it was—I’d honestly been surprised.

Sure, our parents still lived in the same town, but they didn’t see each other, and the two of us hadn’t spoken since we’d been in our first year at university.

We’d tried staying in touch, at least at first, but life and classes and forming new friendships had taken over, and we’d drifted apart, as people tended to at that age.

But, Kim had moved back home, gotten a job, fallen in love with someone we’d been at school with, and wanted all her former friends at her wedding.

I wasn’t entirely sure why I’d agreed. She’d just done such a good job explaining why she wanted me there that it had made sense and I’d agreed.

Now, though, I was at home, a couple of weeks away from the wedding and it felt odd.

We’d spoken a little in the interim but not enough that attending her wedding felt like something I should be doing.

She’d assured me I’d know several other people there, and I’d been due a holiday from work—something that inevitably amused people.

When your job was essentially taking holidays, having a holiday from it puzzled people.

But, hey, time off was mandatory, and someone had to be the one to travel the world reviewing destinations and hotels. It was such a tough job, after all.

My dad waved a hand in front of my face. “Hello in there,” he said with a chuckle. “Have we lost you?”

“Sorry,” I said, inexplicably looking down at my front again to check nothing was showing through a bra, two shirts, and a cable knit jumper. “Just thinking about Kim’s wedding.”

“Ah, of course. Coming up quick now.”

“Yeah. Still feels weird to be going.”

“But we both know you’re not going to pull out now.”

I laughed. “We do know that.”

“You’re a good friend,” my mum said, joining us in the kitchen and pressing a quick kiss to the back of my head. “And we’re glad to have you for a couple of weeks.”

I shot her a look. “Dad’s just happy to have someone to go plane watching with him.”

He scoffed as we both laughed. “Just you wait, missy. You’re about to see the whole crew of us. I’ve not been aching for plane watching friends.”

Mum nodded. “That is true, actually. Quite a group of them out there. Then, with the whole streaming it online thing…”

“So many people are interested. They watch from all over the world.”

I smiled. “Well, plane enthusiasts are the same the world over.”

Mum nudged me. “He talks about you sometimes, you know?”

“On the stream?” I frowned, looking between them.

“Oh, yes. Loves talking about where you’re jetting off to.”

“And some of the viewers look up which planes you’ve been on and everything.” He leaned in to kiss Mum. “Always a big hit when you’ve been on a double-decker.”

I nodded. “I can only imagine.”

Mum shot me a look like she, at least, knew I was being a little facetious. “Now,” she said, gripping Dad’s lapels, “you’ve got lots of tea, some nice, hot soup, and you’ve got your hand warmers?”

“Yes.” He looked at me. “And you?”

I pulled an unactivated packet from each of my pockets. “All stocked.”

“Fantastic. Let’s get on the road, then.”

Mum smiled at me. “Have fun and try not to freeze.”

“It’s not that cold, Mum,” I said with a wry grin.

“You say that now, but just you wait. Standing out there in the cold, nothing to protect you from the elements, and you just might freeze.”

I laughed. “Well, I will endeavour not to.”

“Good.”

She pulled me into a hug and I tried not to wince. Five years. I’d had those piercings for five whole years and she’d never once felt them in a hug.

We pulled apart and nothing about her expression had changed, nothing suggested she knew.

I needed to get a grip.

She swept us out of the house and into the dark morning. Saturday, this early, few others in the street were stirring, but Dad liked to get an early start. Apparently, lots of UK viewers liked to tune in over their Saturday breakfast, so he had to be in position and streaming before they got up.

I shivered in the cold car. Probably not a great sign after just telling my mum it wasn’t that bad out. It would warm up as the sun finished rising.

When we’d joined the motorway, Dad glanced my way. “You know who’s part of the crew these days?”

I breathed a laugh. “The plane crew?”

“Well, our plane crew. Bit different than actual plane crews, I suppose.”

“Just a bit. But, I don’t know. Who?”

“Big Jezzer.”

I blinked and stared at the side of his head. “I have no idea who that is.”

He grinned widely as he drove. “Big Jezzer.”

“Dad, you can say it as many times as you like, it’s not going to suddenly tell me who Big Jezzer is.”

He laughed. “Jeremy.”

“Yes, thank you. I’d guessed that much. Who is Jeremy?”

“Jeremy Archer.”

I raised an eyebrow. I did know that name.

Dad shot a surprised look my way, interpreting my silence as obliviousness rather than… whatever it actually was. “You know the Archers. You went to school with the daughters.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Ah,” he said, satisfied. “I knew you would.”

“How, exactly, did Jeremy Archer get involved?”

“Oh, we put out a call on the library notice board.”

“Of course you did.”

“He saw it, got in touch, and voila.”

I nodded. I suppose it made sense that the Archers were still in the area. My parents were, Kim’s were, most people’s were. But the idea that Jeremy Archer routinely hung out with my dad was… interesting.

Eve Archer was his eldest daughter. She’d been in my year at school.

We’d had quite a few classes together over the years, but Eve had been athletic and popular, and I had been…

not. I’d been quiet and studious, and more than a little chubby.

Still, despite the differences in our personalities, she’d been something of an awakening. One I’d never quite forgotten.

I’d been her younger sister’s peer mentor for a while. Sophie was two years younger and she’d been ‘struggling to focus in class’, so she’d been assigned a peer mentor. But, even that hadn’t put me on Eve’s radar. Nor should it have. I mentor your sister was hardly a pickup line.

Nor was I watch planes with your dad …

Not that I thought this would bring us back into each other’s orbits. We’d barely been there to begin with. Being back in Kim’s was one thing, getting thrown into Eve’s was ridiculously unlikely to happen.

Eve Archer had left secondary school, gone on to play rugby for her university, made a name for herself, won the World Cup and an Olympic medal, and spent a decade out in the US playing professionally.

I hadn’t been trying to follow her career, but, well, I’d seen a few things.

Even caught a match once when work had conveniently sent me to a city she was playing in.

But I’d never told her I was there—why would I?

She was just somebody that I used to know, and, given the opportunity, anyone would go see someone they went to school with play professional sports. It wasn’t weird.

“You know,” Dad said, and I could only imagine where he was going now, “Eve’s back these days.”

“In Eddlesworth?” I asked far too quickly.

“Oh, no, not as a general rule. She visits sometimes, but no, she’s living in London. I meant in the UK. You know she was in the US for a while?”

“I did hear that,” I said, keeping my voice measured.

“Yeah, she’s a bigshot interior designer now.”

“Is she?” I might have heard about that, too. I hadn’t been trying to look her up, but I did tend to keep up with interior design trends. They were somewhat relevant to my job, what with assessing new hotels and commenting on every single aspect of them, interior design included.

Dad hummed. “Went into business with… I don’t remember her name, but Big Jezzer was showing off the proofs of a magazine article they have coming out soon just last week.” He shot me a look. “Maybe he’ll have some with him this week. Might be nice for you to see her again after how long it’s been.”

“Yeah…” Despite the fact that it hadn’t been nearly as long as he thought since I’d last seen her. “And how’s Sophie doing?”

He chuckled and shot me a loaded look. “I think she’s doing great. She thinks she’s doing great. TBD on whether Jezzer thinks she is.”

I narrowed my eyes, watching the road as if I were the one driving. “What does that mean?”

“She’s a bit of a… free spirit, let’s say.”

“Well, yeah, that tracks. She always was a little… unhappy with authority.”

“She’s a tattoo artist these days. Actually has a really beautiful studio in town.”

“Dad, did you get a tattoo?”

“Nah. Your mum and I talked about it, you know, anniversary commemorative thing, but we haven’t decided.”

“But, you’d go to Sophie if you did?”

“Yeah, I think so. She’s one hell of an artist.”

It was hard to imagine him and my mum on the tattoo table. Or to imagine them with ink. They were both super cool about other people having tattoos, but they’d never gotten one themselves.

Perhaps it made sense as an anniversary gift, though. They had been together for almost forty years now. That probably deserved commemorating.

“Jezzer’s not thrilled about it, though,” he continued.

“Why?”

“Beats me. Maybe he was hoping both his daughters would jet off across the world. But two happy, successful kids? Seems like he did all right, if you ask me.”

“Interesting.”

As far as I could remember, Sophie had never said anything when we were at school about her parents wanting her to be more like Eve, but teachers had.

I’m sure they’d thought it was inspirational, but constantly hearing that your sister was a star probably didn’t inspire the need to be just like her when you were a teenager and desperate to be yourself.

Kind of weird that Jeremy had, apparently, gone that way.

Maybe I wasn’t going to enjoy seeing him.

Dad gave me ten minutes alone with my thoughts before he laughed and reached over quickly to poke me. “Stop scowling, kiddo.”

“Because the wind will change and my face will get stuck like that?”

“No, because Big Jezzer’s a good guy with one fault. I wasn’t trying to destroy your opinion of him.”

“I don’t know him well enough to have much of an opinion.”

“Sure. I’ll pretend I believe that. But at least try not to look like you want to murder him? I promise he’s not that bad.”

“Maybe Sophie disagrees.”

“And maybe the trouble between them is something far more complicated than I know about. Can’t be hating the poor guy over my conjecture.”

I frowned at him. “You haven’t just asked?”

“Of course not.”

“Right. Of course. Why would you ask your friends about their lives?”

He rolled his eyes at me fondly. “He’s been in a rough place since the divorce. Gotta cut the guy some slack.”

“Divorce?”

“Yeah. Him and Marnie. Going on three years now.”

I didn’t know. But, then again, why would I have done?

Three years, almost the exact time rumours had started swirling that Eve was going to retire from rugby. Were the two things connected? The official line was that she’d sustained too many injuries, but who was I to say whether that was the truth or just some carefully crafted PR?

And why did I care? About any of it? I didn’t know Jeremy, or Marnie, or either of their daughters—not anymore, anyway. The intricacies of their dynamics were none of my business.

But still, I couldn’t help but wonder how it had been for Eve and Sophie.

Plenty of my friends' parents had divorced over the years—and hell, some of my friends and colleagues at this point. Such was life in your thirties. It almost invariably turned out for the best, but the process, as far as I could tell, sucked. And, even if your kids were fully grown, that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard.

I couldn’t imagine watching my parents go through that, the whole destruction of a life they’d always known?

I’d support it for them, if it was what they wanted, but…

oof. It had to be an impossibly difficult and emotional time.

Ugh. I guess Dad was right. Maybe I did need to cut Jeremy some slack. At least until I found out what his problem with Sophie was. Then, all bets were off.