Chapter 41
Eliza
Rose left today. I feel pretty down about it. We had dinner with Mum last night. She kept getting all misty-eyed at the sight of us together. It made me feel bad that our silence had gone on for so long.
I thought Mum would be upset about Rose’s Chamonix plan, but she seems to understand. I’m still not sure I do. But I do feel torn about my decision not to go with her. For me, it’s too difficult, and it’s definitely too soon. But it gives me comfort to know that Chamonix isn’t going anywhere, not that I imagine I’ll ever want to do what Rose is doing.
I feel oddly disloyal being in Angus’s apartment without Rose. She didn’t live here for long, but her aura is stamped all over it. I’m miserable as I wander into her bedroom and see the duvet cover stripped and her possessions packed away in boxes in the wardrobe.
‘Will you get another tenant?’ I ask Angus, wondering what he’ll do with Rose’s belongings if he does. He already has one wardrobe stuffed full of Phoebe’s things.
‘I was going to talk to you about that,’ he says. ‘You’re looking for somewhere to live—’
‘No, Angus,’ I interrupt. ‘It’s too soon.’
‘Just hear me out.’ He takes my hands and stares into my eyes. ‘We’ve known each other for years. We know what we’re getting into. If you’re moving here to Sale, you’re going to be at my apartment loads anyway. At least, I hope you are,’ he says with a hopeful smile. ‘I want to wake up with you. I want to have breakfast with you and kiss you goodbye before I go to work. If the PA thing doesn’t pan out and you decide to carry on waitressing, I want you to come home to me.’
I’ve got to hand it to him: it’s a good argument.
‘What will people think?’ I ask.
‘What people?’ he replies with a frown. ‘I don’t care what anyone thinks. If they have a problem with us being together, they’ll get over it when they see how happy we are.’
‘Happy? You and I fight like cats and dogs,’ I point out with a wry smile.
He grins. ‘You keep me on my toes, that’s true. But I love that about you. And you know I’m always going to give it to you straight.’
I stand up on my tiptoes and give him a kiss. ‘I know. I trust you.’
‘So move in with me,’ he says simply. The look in his eyes is making my heart melt. I have a strange reality-check moment where I can’t believe we’re together like this. The only man I’ve ever really wanted wants me.
‘What about Rose?’ I ask, trying to stay focused.
‘She’ll be okay with it. She’ll have to accept it like our mums will have to accept it.’
‘No, I don’t mean... I mean, I know she’ll be okay with us eventually.’ She’s been amazing so far. ‘But what about when she comes back? What if she still wants to live with you?’
‘Well, I presume you won’t be sleeping in her bed,’ he says with meaning.
I smirk at him and step away, wandering into his bedroom. I stand and stare at the wardrobes. The double wardrobe to the left is the only one that doesn’t open up onto the space directly in front of the bed. And it’s full of Phoebe’s things.
‘Why did you put Feebs’s things in the left-hand wardrobe?’ I ask. ‘And not the one over there?’ I point to the right, the furthest up against the far wall and the most difficult to access.
‘When I started to unpack, she was on her hen week,’ he says quietly. And still alive, he doesn’t have to add. ‘I was trying to get the apartment sorted before she came back.’
I remember Rose was on her way out of the door to help him when we received the phone call about Phoebe.
‘You gave her the best wardrobe,’ I state. It doesn’t need acknowledging, because it’s obvious.
‘I’ll empty it out,’ he says, in that same low voice.
I walk over to the wardrobe. It’s open a crack, and when I pull at the doors, I can see why. Phoebe’s clothes are in a right state, spilling out of the boxes inside.
‘It doesn’t normally look like that,’ Angus says, sounding on edge.
‘I know,’ I reply. ‘Rose told me what she did.’ I cast a look at him over his shoulder. ‘Do you mind?’ I ask, indicating the contents in front of me.
He shakes his head, but he looks uncertain. He’s worried that today is going to go horribly wrong.
‘It’s okay,’ I try to reassure him. ‘It’s okay.’
He nods again and comes forward as I lift Phoebe’s clothes from the top of the first box and lay them carefully on the bed.
‘Rose wanted to keep some of her things,’ he tells me in a husky voice. I have a lump in my throat, too. ‘I said that she could.’
‘She would have liked that,’ I reply, tracing my fingers over a red chiffon blouse. ‘Did Phoebe wear this to work?’ I ask.
He nods and I spy a multi-coloured knitted jumper peeking out from underneath a couple of other garments. I pull it out. ‘She had this when we were teenagers,’ I murmur.
‘She liked slobbing around in it in front of the telly,’ he tells me with a sad smile.
I bring it up to my nose. ‘It still smells of her. Everything does.’
A tear rolls down my cheek and he reaches out and touches my arm.
‘I’m okay,’ I say gently, going to sit on the bed. I look up at him. ‘Did you know that Phoebe knew I was in love with you?’
His expression changes only a little. He nods and kneels down at my feet so now he’s the one staring up at me. He places his hands on my thighs. ‘And she knew that I had feelings for you, too,’ he says.
I cover his hands with mine. Neither of us breaks eye contact.
‘I read her diary.’ He’s admitting what I had just in this moment realised. ‘I had to know what was going through her mind,’ he says.
‘That’s how you found out about Remy?’ I ask.
He nods. ‘She’d told me about him on her year out, so I was shocked to see his name on the accident report. And then Phoebe’s things came back from Chamonix, including the notepad that she used to sometimes write in. I resisted reading it for a very long time, but it was always there, taunting me. Finally I couldn’t stand it any longer. Have you read it?’ he asks.
‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘Rose told me what it said.’ Whoops, I’ve just blown her cover. ‘She has it now,’ I confess.
‘I know,’ he replies with a wry smile. ‘I knew she’d taken it.’
‘You should have told her you knew. She was worried you were going to flip out.’
He tuts with mock despair before his expression grows serious again. ‘Are you alright?’ he asks me.
‘Yes.’ I nod, surprised at how alright I am.
‘Are you still okay to go on our date?’
‘Definitely.’ I smile at him and then turn to look at the mess on the bed. ‘Let’s get these things packed away neatly first, though.’
‘Okay,’ he agrees, standing up.
I shed a few more tears as we unpack and fold up Phoebe’s clothes, but Angus lets me be, and I feel a welcome sense of relief once it’s done. We leave the boxes in the left-hand wardrobe. If I do move in with him, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, but for now, I’m at peace.
As soon as I see the picnic hamper, I know where we’re going. It’s late afternoon by the time we arrive, and the sun is casting long shadows across the hills of the Peak District. We park up in our usual secluded spot on a grassy verge, and Angus swings open the back door of the Land Rover. His music wafts out of the car as we set up our picnic on the rug, but the volume is low enough to not drown out the sound of the nearby stream or the birds chirping as they fly overhead.
‘Did you and Phoebe ever come here?’ I ask, and immediately wish that question hadn’t come to mind.
‘No.’ He shakes his head, and I feel a swell of relief. There’s something so lovely about this being our place. Just ours.
‘Show us your bits, then,’ I prompt, remembering what he said to me the first time we came here.
He grins and pulls out grapes, millionaire shortbread and salt and vinegar crisps.
‘You’ve even got the same food!’ I exclaim, sitting up straighter.
He laughs and pulls out a bottle of sparkling wine. ‘And this is for you. I’m driving so I won’t drink.’
‘Aw.’ I lean across and give him a chaste kiss before taking the bottle and putting it back in the bag. ‘I don’t want to drink alone, and anyway, remember what we said about being sober tonight.’ I say it flippantly, but my face betrays me.
He raises one eyebrow and then crawls over in my direction. He kisses me on my lips softly, but deepens it after a moment, so I fall back against the rug, pulling him with me.
We’re secluded from view here, and I don’t think the sheep in a nearby field count. As he unbuttons my jeans, I hazard a guess that we’re not waiting until tonight...
I cry out as he takes me, but then he stills, and it’s so intense, being this close to him, this connected. It’s almost unbearable.
‘I love you,’ he says against my lips.
I clasp his face in my hands and stare into his eyes, which are brimming with emotion, just like mine. ‘I love you, too, Angus Templeton. I’ll love you for the rest of my life.’