Snow Going Back

Chapter 21

TWENTY-ONE

3 January 1955

This morning was one of the most wonderful of my existence in this world so far. I am still ablaze with the most vivid energy, as though I am a battery that has been charged by way of lightning bolt.

It may seem as if I must be referring to some sensational event, and when I write the basic facts, it will be clear that it is not. Because it was simply a walk to the river and back. The same river I have walked to a thousand times. But today it was different. Today all the colors glowed brighter and the trees stood taller. The river glittered and the skies sang out my name. Because after all our lingering moments and snatched conversations, I finally enjoyed an hour-long, perfect walk with M.

‘ M ?’ Kate sat up sharply in shock.

She’d decided, after shaking off her weird moment in Sam’s room, to distract herself with a few entries of Cora’s diaries. To revisit the beginnings of the wonderful love story she knew Cora and William’s to be. Theirs was a story of the deepest love and of a deeply happy, fulfilling life together. All the pictures around the house and the endless albums full of their many adventures had shown her that much. So to suddenly see Cora writing about another man like this – even if it was before she married William – suddenly felt like a complete betrayal.

Kate pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows in disapproval, turning towards a framed photo of Cora on the wall.

‘If you turn out to be a hussy, I’m going to be very disappointed,’ she warned.

She shuffled back down under the covers and read on.

It was everything I’d hoped it would be. We walked to the willow tree with the low branch and sat watching the sunrise over the water. We talked about philosophy and the universe. About places we wanted to see and what possibilities the future holds. The possibilities for the future of our world, and of great evolutionary change through science.

I’ve never known anyone whose depth and passion for the unordinary so perfectly match my own. It’s like being with the other half of one whole. I wanted time to stop, so we could talk forever.

But inevitably it did not, and in what seemed like the blink of an eye, it was time to return. I couldn’t risk my mother finding out, not when she is so set on pushing me into a serious courtship with W. If she were to find out about M, she would most certainly put an end to our meetings. And I really couldn’t bear if that were to happen.

But our meeting ended on the most heavenly of notes. Because as I said goodbye, M pulled me close and kissed me. And it was wonderful. I felt sparks fly through my entire body, and his lips felt soft and warm and strong all at once. And I don’t know if that’s what every kiss feels like, but I felt as though I were floating in the air, tethered to the earth only by his hands around my waist.

Monday mornings are our only time to meet, so for the next six days, I’ll only see him briefly when he delivers the post. It feels a painfully long time. But so long as we get letters, I’ll at least be able to steal a few moments at the gate.

Kate shut the diary with an unimpressed clap and turned an accusatory stare towards Cora’s picture. ‘The mailman ?’ She shook her head. ‘He was probably romancing a different girl in every postcode! Your mother’s right not to approve. He lured you away in secret, charmed you with words then brazenly kissed you on the first date – which is ballsy now , let alone in 1955, Cora Dawson .’ She shook her head again but this time at herself. ‘And now I’m talking to a photograph, as if that’s not a sign of being clinically insane. I need to go to sleep.’

Turning her back on Cora’s picture, Kate put the diary down and turned off the light. But although she was tired, sleep evaded her. Cora’s words floated around in her head, the girlish thrill behind them so clear she could almost feel them herself. It was ridiculous, she knew, to feel so bothered by silly words written nearly seventy years before, by a na?ve young girl she’d never even met. But despite this, Kate still wanted to travel back in time and shake her. She still wanted to urge her to see William for the great man he clearly was, to tell her what an incredible future she’d have ahead of her, when she finally made the right choice. Just as Cora’s mother was clearly doing, by the sound of the side note in the diary entry. But that was the wisdom of mothers, Kate supposed. The women who’d been there and done that and understood the no-return policy of the T-shirt they’d got along the way.

Kate turned over and kicked one leg out of the covers irritably as this line of thought brought her back to the conversation she’d had with her own mother about Lance. The not-so-subtle warning Eleanor had given her of the perils of not marrying him. But this wasn’t the same, she decided, throwing herself onto her back and lying an arm over her head. She stared at the ceiling through the darkness. Or was it?

Kate wasn’t a young unworldly girl like Cora, her head easily turned by a few pretty words. She did understand life and the pitfalls of reality. But wasn’t she also pulling away from the prospect of a future with a man who was clearly an ideal match? Wasn’t her mother trying to guide her towards the right choice with all the wisdom of her generation? There was no man in the shadows turning her head, but something was. The only difference between them, really, was that she didn’t know what that something was.

This realisation was sobering, and Kate frowned through the darkness. Taking a mental step back, she looked at herself from a detached distance. As though hers were the diary she was reading. Analysing herself as an outsider looking in, just as she had Cora.

There she was. Kate Hunter. A thirty-five-year-old woman with a good career, good friends and family, and a boyfriend who wanted to marry her. A boyfriend who was handsome and successful, and whose career aligned with her own. A boyfriend who her friends and family loved. A boyfriend who ticked every box there could be on the list for perfect marriage material. He wanted everything with her. The whole shebang. A full, all-encompassing future.

She replayed her reaction to Lance’s proposal. Even from this viewpoint, she still understood her initial reaction to the shock. Anyone who accidentally accepted a proposal before realising it’s happening has the right to feel a bit horrified. But when she looked at her reactions from that point, her confidence faded.

She’d wanted to shake Cora for her foolish disregard of William, the man who was all of the same things Lance was today. Because the world spun on reason and logic. Not on flighty fancies and stolen kisses with the mailman. And the incredible happy life she’d eventually led with William, after coming to her senses, just went on to prove that.

Kate felt a troubled churn in her stomach as she realised there was no great difference in what Cora had been doing and what she was doing now. And she realised then that, whatever it took to do so, she needed to start focusing on what was best for her future and stop festering in the destructive, unwarranted panic that had been driving her every move since Lance proposed. It was time to focus on the big picture in life, rather than the – clearly malfunctioning – pixels of today.

But despite making the decision to do that with as much determination as she could gather, Kate still couldn’t escape the hopeless sinking feeling of being trapped in a room with the walls closing in.