Always and Only You

Chapter Fifty-Five

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

Present Day

Gil leads us to my room, well, mine and Simon’s room for tonight, which is across the hall in the annexe. It feels quite private, which instantly puts me at ease. He says I have use of the whole space – a bedroom, a bathroom and an extra room which is still part-office, with a desk and office chair, but it’s also a living space with a sofa, coffee table, and a flat-screen television above a stone fireplace. Both this room and the bedroom have French doors that lead onto a small, shady garden full of mature plants that overlooks the riverbank.

Unlike the main part of the house, which has obviously just had a makeover, these rooms are in good order but populated with hand-me-down furniture that is clearly a few decades older than the house. There’s lots of dark-stained wood and floral patterns, but it makes it feel homely rather than tired.

Simon doesn’t bother unpacking his overnight bag, and he doesn’t notice that I don’t unpack my case either, just pull something comfy from a pocket and shove it on. Once we’ve settled in, Simon insists on taking us all out to the open-air cafe opposite the pub in the village. It is famed for its seafood, especially crab, and he only manages to grab a table because he’s a local and the owner is his cousin’s best friend’s dad. But the fresh air, along with the journey and getting used to a new place, exhausts me. I collapse into bed when we return to the boathouse, leaving the boys to catch up.

It’s a wrench to say goodbye to Simon the next morning. Not just because I’m going to miss him, but because I feel off-kilter. I can’t get my head round how this set-up – me and Gil living together – is ever going to work. I know Simon always makes light of it if I mention that Gil and I don’t get on, but I thought he was always just encouraging me to give his best friend the benefit of the doubt. Now I’m wondering if he’s ever truly realized how much friction there is between us.

And since I’m not allowed to drive, I can’t steal a car and follow Simon back up the motorway. For now, I’m stuck.

After Simon leaves, I head back to my annexe. I throw the French doors open to let the balmy summer breeze in. Yesterday was overcast, threatening rain but never coming good on its promise, but today is a perfect English summer’s day.

I stand at the open doors and fill my lungs. The air is fresh with a tang of salt and seaweed from the scrubby beach revealed below the garden when the tide is out. As I exhale, I’m sure I can feel the small muscles at the base of my skull unknotting.

When I venture into the kitchen to get myself a cup of tea, Gil is nowhere to be seen, although I can hear banging coming from the floor below. It sounds like someone is hammering or drilling, which confuses me. I thought Gil worked as a consultant in cybersecurity. Is my faulty memory doing me wrong again? But what do I know? He might be building a desk or putting up a bookshelf for a home office.

I find a folded-up piece of paper with my name on it propped up against the kettle when I go to turn it on: Help yourself to anything in the cupboards or in the fridge if you want anything to eat or drink. But don’t worry about dinner. I’ll cook us something. Gil.

It’s not wordy, but it says all I need to know. I sense Gil is making himself scarce, which is fine by me. I’ve never been on my own with him before, not for any significant length of time.

Unless you count that other time …

Which I don’t. Because it didn’t happen, and I’m doing my best to forget all those images were in my head.

However, it’s been months now since I woke up, and that dream or whatever it was still feels as if it actually happened. It’s as crystal-clear in my memory as the days leading up to the wedding, maybe even more so. While, logically, I know I can’t have been in St Lucia, when people talk about me lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines with tubes coming out of me, I struggle. That just doesn’t seem possible. It wasn’t fuzzy and nonsensical like dreams are. It really did feel as if I’d slipped into another reality for a while.

I remember Gil’s face as we were bobbing in the water together, full of earnest intensity, his eyes telling me what he was saying was true: that he would die to save me if he had to. My heart does a strange little hiccup, and then I flush with heat as I remember just how close we got afterwards. Another good reason to keep my distance from him.

I make myself a sandwich with gorgeous fluffy white bread and thick-cut ham, glad to see that Gil has strong English mustard to add to it, and then I grab an apple, put some shoes on and go outside to explore.

It’s low tide, so I walk along the muddy beach for a bit, then circle the house and head up the stairs that take me to the driveway. From there, I walk down the lane until I feel my energy levels start to dip and then I retrace my steps. Back inside, I try to listen to an audiobook on the Walkman, but end up falling asleep on the sofa in my little living room, chapters and chapters rolling past unheard.

The sun is lower in the sky when I wake up, casting golden streams of light through the doors to dance on the wall. I yawn and stretch. When I open the door to the hallway, delicious smells waft towards me. I follow them without thinking.

Gil’s back is to me as he stands at the hob, stirring something fragrant and spicy. He goes still as he hears me approach, then carries on as if nothing happened. A moment later he rests the spoon on the counter and turns around. ‘I’m cooking Thai – is that okay for you?’

I have to swallow the saliva in my mouth before I can reply. ‘Yes. That’s … amazing. Thanks.’

He nods and goes back to doing whatever he’s doing with the dinner. I slide onto a stool at the breakfast bar and watch him. I’m intending to just let him get on with it, but it turns out I have questions, and more often than not these days, they pop out of my mouth before I have time to stop them.

‘So what’s up with the house? When Simon said you were going away and it was something to do with changing jobs, I don’t know … I suppose I imagined you were off overseas again, jetting away to somewhere exotic. I didn’t think you’d end up going back home. Am I right in thinking you’re from around here, too?’

He continues cooking, but looks over his shoulder now and then when he doesn’t have to pay 100 per cent attention to what he’s doing. ‘I didn’t grow up here, but this house belonged to my mother – she inherited it from an uncle about twenty years ago – and now I have inherited it from her.’

I have a sudden stabbing flashback to the top table at the other wedding that never happened. I see Gil’s face as he looked at the seat where his mother should have been sitting. Did I know she’d died before I’d had my accident? I must have done. Even so, I wrack my brains and find no memory of a conversation about it. Mind you, in my current condition, that’s hardly smoking-gun evidence, is it?

‘I’m sorry about your mum,’ I say.

He shrugs. ‘We had – how shall I say it? – a complicated relationship. I have mixed feelings about owning this place.’

‘But you’re living here anyway.’

‘For now.’ He leaves what looks like a red curry bubbling on the stove and starts chopping some coriander. ‘But I’m going to rent it out as a holiday let once I’ve finished working on it.’

Ah … That makes sense of the ultra-modern living space and the slightly dated bedrooms and bathrooms. ‘It’s a shame,’ I say. ‘I mean, those views …’

We both turn and look out at the river beyond the windows that run down two sides of the open-plan space. The water is blue and grey, tipped with glints of peach and yellow as it reflects the setting sun.

He doesn’t respond to my comment, but answers a question I asked earlier. ‘And Simon’s right – I have changed jobs recently. I’ve decided it’s time to move on from security testing. It was fun while it lasted, shooting off at a moment’s notice to sort out someone’s system after a cyberattack, but I’m tired of the travelling, so I’ve been doing some cyber forensics consulting on the side, and now it’s got to a point where I’m going to bite the bullet and do it full-time, start my own firm. I can work from anywhere, so I thought, why not here? Then I can do the rest of the house up at the same time to get it ready for rental.’

‘That seems like a good idea.’

‘Listen, I’m about ready to dish up—’

I jump up. ‘Shall I set the table?’

One corner of his mouth twists upwards. ‘Already have.’

I turn to look at the long wooden dining table, but it’s empty. He hands me a bowl full of steaming curry and a fork and nods towards a doorway leading onto the wraparound balcony. I follow him outside and then up a flight of metal stairs where we emerge onto the roof, which also has a railing around it. A wooden table and chairs are already set up.

My mouth falls open. If I thought the views from the living room were good, up here knocks those out of the park. I catch a familiar flash of white high on the steep banks on the other side of the river. ‘That’s Whitehaven …’ I almost whisper.

‘Yes,’ he says, pulling out a chair for me. ‘Possibly my favourite place in the world.’