Happy Endings (33 page)

‘And what if I told you he’s just been signed by a major literary agent?’

‘He has, really?’

‘Yes, the Morris Gladstone Literary Agency in Holborn. His novel was so good the agent didn’t even wait to read the whole book before he signed him up. Does that change things?’

‘Of course I’m pleased for him, for you both. I just want what’s best for you, that’s all, darling. One day you’ll understand,’ she said and got up. ‘Another drink?’

It was still early and I’d planned on driving back to London later that afternoon, but I was enjoying spending time with Mum, probably for the first time in my life. Maybe I was starting to understand her better, understand our relationship better and maybe I was beginning to understand myself better too.

‘One for the road,’ I said and Mum smiled.

‘We do love you so much,’ said Mum as she was getting up. ‘Even your useless father. He only worked so hard so you could have the best of everything.’

‘And what about now?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Now he’s retired and he’s still never at home. What’s his excuse now?’

‘Now,’ she said, with a slightly sad laugh. ‘I think he just wants to get away from me.’

‘You don’t mean that,’ I said, but I had the awful feeling she did.

‘Emma, your father and I have a certain kind of marriage. We did love each other very much once, but now it’s more about companionship, support, the fear of change. We’re settled and I can’t complain. I have this lovely house and your father has his hobbies. I wouldn’t change it for the world.’

‘But don’t you miss the passion, the closeness?’

Mum and I had never had a conversation like that before. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was that I was finally grown up, but I suddenly felt like I could talk to her in a way I never had before. Mum returned with two hefty gin and tonics and then sat down again.

‘Sometimes, yes, of course.’

‘Then why don’t you do something about it?’

‘Like what, darling?’ I couldn’t believe what I was about to say and especially to my mother. ‘Nothing inappropriate, I hope?’

‘All I was going to suggest is that it’s never too late for a bit of fun. Make an effort, put on some sexy underwear and you never know what might happen.’

‘Oh, Emma, really,’ said Mum, but she had a sparkle in her eyes.

Maybe I’d just resurrected my parents’ sex life; I didn’t really want to think about it, but I wanted them to be happy and we all need a bit of love now and again. Even my cold-hearted, gin-swilling mother.

To: Kate Jones

From: Emma Fogle

Subject: Re: Bula!

K,

I can’t believe you’re going to be home in a week! The last six months seems to have gone by so fast and so much has changed. It feels like we’ve all grown up a lot. I’m doing better today and it’s sort of thanks to my mother. I know, it seems impossible. I went home to see her, tell her about the baby, and she was wonderful. We actually talked and bonded like we never have before and I even gave her advice on sex! I know, disgusting, but in a way it was sort of cathartic. For the both of us, I think. She’ll probably be back to her usual, horrible old self next time I see her, but it was nice for one day to think of her as just my mother.

Jack and I had a ceremony for the baby. We planted a little shrub in Kensington Gardens and we both said a few words. If anything good has come out of this, it’s that I feel closer and more in love with Jack than ever before. I know we’ll try again and I hope next time things will be different. Hopefully you’ll be there too.

I really can’t wait to see you. Sorry we can’t be there for you at the airport, but we’ll see you as soon as we can. Pre-warning, I’m going to cry a-lot! Have a safe flight home.

For the last time,

Love Em X

Kate

‘It’s just something I’ve been thinking about,’ I said.

‘That your life is essentially over?’

‘I didn’t mean that at all. I just meant that we need to have something to look forward to. We can’t stop trying otherwise what’s the point?’

It was the last conversation I’d have with Jez. I was about to get on a plane for Los Angeles and he had a few more days in Peru before he headed to Argentina. We were at a small café in Cusco drinking coffee. I’d just told him my thoughts on travelling. One of the reasons why I came travelling was because I was worried all the good times were behind me. It’s the trouble with getting older: we have far less to look forward to. People are always looking back on their school days, their sixth form days or their university years and saying they were the best times of their life, but surely that can’t be right. I finished university at twenty-one – was that it? Were my best years really behind me?

‘That’s why you’re going back to university, to relive the old days?’

‘No, the exact opposite, actually. I want to make new days, better days, and it’s fine to look back nostalgically, but shouldn’t we always be trying to make life better and more exciting? I don’t want to be one of those sad, middle-aged people who regret not doing things. I don’t want to end up bored, with four kids and a husband I no longer have sex with and wishing I was eighteen again. Wishing I’d done everything different.’

I stopped speaking and Jez was looking at me.

‘Can I say something?’

‘Depends what it is.’

‘It’s good, hopefully.’

‘OK,’ I said and felt nervousness ripple down my spine.

‘I think I’m falling in love with you, Kate. Am in love with you, actually. I know this is a bit soon and you’re about to get on a plane to Los Angeles, but I wanted you to know. I love you.’

I didn’t know what to say. A part of me wanted to reciprocate and tell him I loved him too, but the truth was, I didn’t know. I didn’t want to raise his hopes or make him think something that wasn’t true. I could love him, I knew that much, but it was too soon and, more importantly, I still loved Ed. The more I thought about it, the more I realised how much of what I was doing was because of my father. If I chose Jez and left Ed, I would still be running. I didn’t know how to explain that to him, but as he looked at me with his gorgeous face and beautiful blue eyes, I knew I couldn’t choose him. I couldn’t keep running. I couldn’t be like my father.

‘Jez, look . . .’ I started, but I could see the sadness fill his eyes.

‘Kate, it’s OK, you don’t have to explain. I understand.’

‘I don’t think you do, Jez. I’m not choosing Ed either. The truth is I don’t know what I want. I know I don’t want to go back to my old life. I want to start over. I need to work on me, make me happy and right now I don’t know who that involves.’

‘It just definitely doesn’t involve me?’

‘You’ll find someone much better than me, Jez. Someone who loves you more than anything in the world.’

‘She just won’t be you,’ he said, showering me in guilt.

‘No, she won’t – she’ll be better. Look, Jez, I like you a lot. More than a lot, actually, and I want you to be happy, I do, but I don’t think that’ll happen with me.’

‘But how can you be sure?’ he said, his voice suddenly louder and full of emotion.

‘I can’t. You of all people should know that. We can’t be sure of anything in life; we just have to follow our hearts and hope the choices we make are the best ones.’

‘And your heart’s telling you I’m not the one?’

‘Not exactly,’ I said. ‘But right now, at this moment, I can’t be what you need. I just can’t.’ I started to cry. Slow, steady tears slid down my face. Jez reached across and wiped them away. I reached up and held his hand for a moment. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s OK,’ said Jez, finally with a smile. A wilted, forlorn smile, but a smile nonetheless. ‘You were worth the shot.’

‘Oh, thanks,’ I said, playfully sniffling up tears, trying to lighten the mood.

‘You know what I mean.’

‘I do.’

We sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping our coffees and taking in our surroundings. Cusco was beautiful and I didn’t want to leave. The idea that I would be in Los Angeles soon filled me with dread. I’d left Jez once before and it was even harder the second time around.

‘You know, Richard would have been so proud of you.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because you found the perfect way to remember him and say goodbye and I feel so proud, so honoured to have been part of it.’

Jez looked down for a moment. He was trying to hold back his own tears now, but I saw one drop and fall somewhere beneath the table. I reached across and held his hand. He squeezed it and then looked up at me, the sun suddenly catching the side of his face and making me squint.

‘He would have loved you,’ said Jez with a smile.

‘I think I would have loved him too,’ I said.

We drank our coffees and walked around a small market, waiting for my departure time.

Eventually I left. We kissed and cried at the airport, and then I was on a plane heading towards Los Angeles.

As the plane took off and I looked out of the window at the ground below, it felt almost unreal that I’d been there with Jez and we’d hiked to Machu Picchu together. It was something that continually baffled me about travelling. Everything I did and every experience I had was so much in the moment that almost as soon as it was over, it felt like it hadn’t happened at all.

My time in America turned out to be nothing more than a decompression chamber for my return to England. I didn’t have the energy or enthusiasm to do much and I couldn’t really be bothered to meet anyone new. I met a couple of girls who were just starting out on their trip and I envied them. They still had South America, the Cook Islands, New Zealand, Australia, Thailand, Vietnam and India left to do over the next twelve months, while I was almost done. My trip was almost complete and already I was starting to feel slightly depressed. I felt in between everything. In between travelling, in between life and in between relationships; Los Angeles was my purgatory.

As the plane took off, I looked out of the window at Los Angeles disappearing into the distance, the brown tint of smog lying over the city and the clearer mountains beyond. Next to me was a woman probably in her sixties, and next to her was a businessman who had his laptop on as soon as the plane was ten feet off the ground. I couldn’t imagine being like that. What made people want to work so hard and so aggressively when they could travel, relax and enjoy life? Sadly, it reminded me of Ed. I could already imagine him at the arrivals gate in a suit with a bunch of overly expensive flowers, hoping to continue just where we’d left off. He’d have me back to work in a week and it would be like the last six months had never happened.

‘Some people, eh,’ said the woman next to me, nodding towards the suit.

‘I know, right.’

‘Can’t turn off their phones and laptops for two seconds just in case they miss an email.’

‘It’s pretty sad.’

‘It is, dear, not like you though, eh. Been travelling have we?’

She had a sweet northern voice, maybe from Manchester or Bolton.

‘How can you tell?’

‘No offence, dear, but you don’t look like you’ve been on a two-week holiday.’

I wasn’t quite sure what she meant, but then I had a flashback to the airport. I’d popped into the toilets to freshen up before the flight and when I looked in the mirror, I barely recognised the face that stared back at me.

When I’d left England six months before I was kitted out with all new travelling clothes: pretty summer dresses, sandals, cut-off jeans, T-shirts and lots of bikinis. Now I was dressed in a T-shirt I’d bought in Thailand. It was orange and had the words, ‘Phuket, I’d rather be in Thailand!’ on the front in purple. I had on an assortment of necklaces. One from a market in Bangkok, one from Byron Bay and two that I’d got in Cusco. My hair, once cut religiously every month in London, straightened and moisturised, was now longer, wilder and unkempt. My face, devoid of make-up, but much darker due to six months of sunshine, looked older somehow. Around my wrists I had a jumble of different bracelets I’d picked up along the way and I was wearing baggy purple hippy trousers I’d got in Cusco – a present from Jez. The nice old lady hadn’t had to guess I’d been travelling because it was emblazoned across every square inch of my being.

‘None taken and yes, I’m on my way back home.’

‘My daughter went travelling in her twenties, said it was the best thing she ever did. You kids are so lucky nowadays. I would love to have gone travelling.’

‘You’re travelling now. Making up for lost time?’

‘Something like that,’ she said and then the air hostess came around with drinks and snacks. Before long the woman next to me was asleep, the suit was still staring intently at his laptop and I started watching a film.

The rest of the flight was a mixture of fitful sleep, attempting but failing to read, watching bits of films and eating the meals that all seemed to merge into one. Eventually though, as the sun came bursting through the small cabin windows, we were almost home. I couldn’t believe that six months had come and gone so quickly. I didn’t know what to expect when I got off the plane. I didn’t know if Ed would be there, where I would go if he wasn’t and what I was going to do next. Travelling was supposed to be something I got out of my system before I settled down, but instead it had thrown up more questions than it had answered. As I prepared to get off the plane, I turned to say goodbye to the woman next to me.