The Last Piece of My Heart by Paige Toon (35)

Chapter 35

I wonder what Nicki would make of her sister and mother’s behaviour, I think to myself the next morning when I return to work. I have a feeling she’d be mortified, but that’s not something I’d ever say to Kate and Valerie – they’d probably shoot me for conjecturing.

Nicki used to lock horns with them often, according to her teenage diaries. What was it Charlie said when I commented that Essex was so far away? Something like, ‘When Nicki moved back here, she didn’t think it was far enough. . .’

Nicki might’ve hated the fact that her dad lived abroad and that he was so busy when she went to visit him, but she loved him and always wanted to go back again.

‘At least once a year,’ Charlie said, although never with him. Why didn’t Charlie ever go with Nicki to Thailand? He said he wanted to, but they couldn’t afford to both go. They had talked about using the money from Nicki’s novel to visit Alain and introduce him to April, but Nicki died before that idea came to fruition. Did Nicki suggest the trip, or was it Charlie?

Was there another, non-financial reason that she didn’t want to bring Charlie to Thailand with her? Did it have anything to do with Isak?

Charlie said that Nicki used to bump into him occasionally in her twenties and it was awkward, but, as she stopped confessing in her diaries, I have no way of knowing if this is true.

I pick up the piece of paper on my desk and read through Nicki’s poem once more.

If Nicki did give a piece of herself to Isak, as her poem claims, did it wither up long ago, as she warned him it might? Or was that piece of her still alive when she died?

Nicki’s writing is so good that she made cynical me believe that it’s possible to fall in love with two people. But what if her story is not all fiction? What if it’s based in fact? I already know that real things inspired her, like Charlie’s mobile cream-tea business idea, and the similarities between Morris and Charlie don’t end there.

What about Isak and Timo?

Was Nicki still in love with Isak when she died? No, more than that: were Nicki and Isak still together?

Ice trickles down my spine.

Is that why Nicki’s book feels so authentic? Was she writing from experience?

I have to know.

I wonder if Isak still works at the same resort as Nicki’s dad. What was the name of it again? I’m sure it was somewhere near Krabi. . .

I bring up Google and do a search for Alain Dupré, French chef, Krabi. The answer is in Nicki’s diaries, but this should be quicker. . . aaaannnd. . . it is.

I recognise the name of the resort as soon as I see it. Going to the website, I scan the top menu for a relevant link. ‘Activities & Excursions’, that sounds right. As soon as I click on it, a picture appears that shows a muscled man clutching onto a cliff face with his bare hands. I excitedly click to the next picture, but it’s of a girl kayaking, so I go back to the rock climber. Is that Isak? You can’t see his face. I don’t know what he looks like, anyway – it could be anyone. I haven’t come across any pictures of Isak since I’ve been here.

I keep searching the website, but there are no names mentioned, least of all Isak’s. I make a note of the contact details so I can email the resort if I need to. It looks incredible. I must see if I can wing some cheap – or free – accommodation. The hotel looks like it’s undergoing some renovations, which means they might want some press to promote their new look. . . I go to the media centre and jot down the press enquiries email.

Striking while the iron is hot, I then call a friend who works at a wedding magazine to ask if she’d like a honeymoon feature about the resort. She says she’ll check with the editor and call me back.

While I’m waiting, I email Marty at work. Elliot gave me a rough idea of the dates he might be able to join me, so I don’t have a whole lot of flexibility. Early November is just outside peak season, so the resort should have availability. I ask Marty if she can look into flights for Elliot, as well as me, although it will probably be cheaper for him to do his from Australia.

Elliot and I spoke on Saturday and, at first, our conversation was a bit tense. Luckily he’s not the type to hold grudges – he’s easygoing like that – so we were pretty much back to normal by the time we got off the phone.

I can hardly believe I might see him in six weeks. The thought makes me feel slightly off kilter. It’s probably best not to think about it as it might not happen. I’ll call him tomorrow to touch base. For reasons I can’t quite fathom, though, I have no desire to tell him about Valerie and Kate.

At that point, my contact from the wedding magazine calls back and, brilliantly, gives me the go-ahead. How I love it when a plan comes together! Now I just need to email the resort and put the idea to them.

In the meantime, I intend to keep my suspicions about Nicki to myself. If she was being unfaithful to Charlie, I’m not sure it’s something he ever needs to know.

‘What does your dad say about your blog?’ Charlie asks me later that week.

It’s Friday night and we’re in his living room, waiting for our Indian takeaway to be delivered. Deadpool is cued up and ready to go, but we’ve been talking.

I’ve just confessed that Sara has been encouraging me to visit Vince as soon as I return to London. She reiterated that my blog will lose momentum if I don’t post again soon. I can’t believe my time in Cornwall is drawing to a close.

Charlie shook his head and stared straight ahead when I told him this.

‘My dad doesn’t read my blog,’ I reply. ‘He’s under strict orders. He knows I’m no nun, but he doesn’t need the details. Anyway, he’s always accepted me for who I am. Whatever that is,’ I mutter.

A slag, slut, hussy, whore, if my ‘haters’ are to be believed.

I really do hate that word.

Not too keen on the others, either, if I’m honest.

‘What about Elliot?’ Charlie asks. ‘How can he be cool with you going to see Vince after everything that happened? Does he know what went down between you?’

I shrug. ‘A bit, yeah.’ The truth is, not as much as Charlie, which is weird in itself.

‘There’s no way I would’ve allowed Nicki to put herself in that position. I don’t understand why you do it to yourself. How can you stand everyone judging you? I’m not judging you – you can live your life however you want to.’

‘Thank you very much,’ I can’t help but quip.

He ignores my sarcasm. ‘But when you put it all out there for everyone to read about, then you’re inviting criticism.’

‘I know,’ I say simply, falling quiet. ‘The truth is, I never thought I’d be a relationship blogger. I used to detest that sort of thing – people airing their dirty washing for everyone to see. I don’t know quite how I got myself into this mess. Oh yeah, that’s right,’ I say facetiously. ‘My boyfriend suggested it.’

I throw Charlie a grin, but he doesn’t find it remotely amusing.

‘You would like Elliot, you know,’ I suddenly feel compelled to say. ‘I know you probably think he’s a bit of a, I don’t know, dick, for encouraging my blog, but he’s a good guy, really.’

He doesn’t seem convinced.

‘Honestly, you’d like him,’ I insist. ‘Everyone does.’

‘Hmm.’ He picks up the remote control. ‘Are we watching this movie or not?’

‘Hit it.’ We need something to lighten us up.

This week has been all right, considering.

Considering what his sister-in-law and mother-in-law think of me. . .

Charlie and I have done our best to put brave faces on it. I’m only here for one more week and then my tenants are out of my flat and I can move back home. I’ve done more than enough research to be getting on with the Cornwall scenes – now it’s just Thailand I need to worry about.

My flights are booked, my accommodation is sorted (free – yes!) and I’ve even managed to confirm that Isak does still do rock-climbing sessions for the resort. I was excited when that email came in.

Somehow or other I’ll get the truth out of him. I’m still trying to understand Nicki and where her head was at when she wrote this book.

It’s been hard keeping Isak out of my conversations with Charlie, but I don’t want to distress him unnecessarily. He did contact Nicki’s dad on my behalf a couple of days ago and Alain said he would be happy to meet up with me for a coffee sometime. He won’t be able to spare much more time than that, from what I’ve heard, but, if nothing else, the experience will help bring Nicki’s diaries to life, and that, in itself, will be fascinating.

I don’t know how it happens, because Deadpool is absolutely frigging hilarious, but somehow or other I manage to fall asleep on the sofa. When I come to, the room is dark and I have a pillow under my head. The cosy blanket Charlie gave me earlier is still wrapped around me. I squint at the time on the DVD player’s digital clock. Two thirty-five! I’m not going back to the campsite now. I close my eyes again and try to get back to sleep.

In the morning, the smell of bacon and cinnamon rouses me from sleep. It’s just after eight o’clock.

‘Hey!’ Charlie exclaims when I appear in the kitchen. He’s frying up pancakes in one pan and bacon in another. ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘I did. Thanks for letting me stay.’

‘I didn’t have a choice: you were out like a light.’

Smiling, I walk over to where April is standing in front of the sofa, jiggling along to the radio. ‘Good morning, baby.’ She beams up at me.

‘MMMBop’ by Hanson comes on as I scoop her up. She leans her whole body over to her left and then all the way over to her right, back and forth like a cartoon jumping jack in slow motion.

I laugh and dance around the kitchen with her, singing along to the occasional lyric. When the chorus kicks in, I slide across the floor with her in my socks, but Charlie beats us to our destination, turning the radio up to full volume. We sing along at the tops of our voices before cracking up laughing.

I feel as if I have a balloon inside me and someone is filling it with happy gas. It is the best possible start to the weekend.

Next weekend I’ll be back in London. My balloon pops at the thought.