Coming Home (Only Time Will Tell #1) (19 page)

Cold sweats consume my body and the tears just fall. Rubbing them away I cover my mouth. Still uncertain that he said what I think he did. “I can go?” I whisper. My voice uneasy, shaky.

His smile takes over his face. “You can go. Your return flight is booked for Sunday though, I need to use it to get the cruise liner. You’ll be back at work Tuesday, give you time to catch up on the jet lag, too.”

My hands fly to the arm rests, squeezing them, hoping they’ll crumble under my hands and stab me to make me wake up from this dream. “Oh my God, Mr. Johnson! I honestly don’t know what to say. Thank you so much for this.”

Chuckling, he replies. “With a reaction like that, I've got all the thanks I need.”

I get up and run out the office.

As soon as the doors close, I start dancing in the hallway, all the way to the bathroom because there’s no doubt I look a complete mess from crying. After a quick clean up, I get back to my work. Nod smiles at me, I think she guessed I got what I wanted because I can’t help smiling. I’m so unbelievably happy now, I even start conversation with her about Saturday, because nothing can get me out of my good mood. Not now. Not even Kyle.

After work, I get home and quickly pack up everything I’ll need for the next few days. Dancing round the apartment like I won the fucking lottery. I open a bottle of wine, turn up the music and just twirl and jump from room to room. I feel bloody brilliant. I might as well get some of the British lingo back out, I’m going to be needing it.

At nine, I dig out my cell, ready to call a cab to get to the airport, as I do, the intercom rings. I dread that it’s Kyle, coming to see me. After chucking my phone back in my purse I dash over to the intercom, answering cautiously. “Hello?”

“Miss James, There is a car waiting for you.”

I glance at the receiver confused for a second. “A car?”

“Yes. To take you to the airport.”

Holy shit, Mr. Johnson has thought of everything. “Oh. Oh, okay,” I stutter, “I’ll be down in a second.”

I hang up and grab my purse and suitcase. It feels like I’m going for a week with this weight. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t this heavy when I moved back here.

The whole car journey seemed to take forever. I was bouncing around in the back seat like a kid at Christmas, too excited for a normal human being. I was actually going back to visit my family, to be close to Kody. I was going to be getting on a private airplane and taking off.

When we arrive, I’m greeted by an over done up woman who escorts me through check in and out onto the tarmac. When I get out there, there is an actual airplane sat waiting for me, just for me. It’s white with a blue tail and a large white “J & C” on it. I stare at it wide-eyed and open-mouthed.
Jesus!
 

 A middle aged man walks over, holding out his hand. “Miss James, I’m your pilot for tonight. I just wanted to say that if you need anything, there are staff members onboard who will assist you. We are ready for take off at the original time of ten. Is there anything else you need before we board?”

I gape at him like a fish, taking his hand to shake. “No. I’m fine, just shocked, it’s only me.”

“I’m aware,” he chuckles. “But Mr. Johnson insisted you had the full works. Shall we?” he asks, swinging his arm towards the aircraft.

Nodding, I walk towards it.
It
growing stupidly big for little ol’ me. “Fucking hell.” I mutter, walking up the steps.
 

Entering the plane the breath is literally sucked out of me. A stewardess greets me, handing me a glass of champagne—stuff I’m growing sick of, I drank too much this weekend. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. If you follow me I’ll show you around,” she says, walking away for me to follow her to the back of the plane.

It feels so calm in here, not that I’d expect anything else. But the cream leather chairs and couches just scream one huge cuddle at you. I follow the stewardess, right to the back to a small area that has a couple of chairs and table on one side and a couch on the other. She points to a door further back and explains that’s the bathroom. I smile gratefully as I take my seat in one of the chairs facing forward, popping my glass on the table.

After she’s left, I flip off my converse and get as comfortable as possible, and then place my purse on the shiny mahogany surface and dig out my ereader. Kicking my purse under the table as I prepare myself for the nine hour flight.

At least once an hour the stewardess-Molly, comes back to me ask me and bring me anything I need. Coffee, sandwiches, a blanket and pillow, not that I’ve slept, but it did make it all cozier.

Two books later, the pilot informs me that we’re preparing to land. I prepare myself also, chucking everything back in my purse, putting my hair up and rearranging my tank and three-quarter joggers that have become a crumpled mess through the journey.

Again, Molly, comes back through to me and informs me I can leave the airplane. I smile and thank her for all her help these last few hours, but I’m ready for bed. As I walk through the airport I check the time on the clock, it’s noon and so I re-adjust my watch from seven in the morning to English time, I feel like I’ve lost half a day.

I’m escorted through the airport, as people go on their vacations looking immaculate, me looking like I just crawled out of bed.

Walking outside, the heat hits me. Mom was right when she was telling me about the weather being freakishly warm during our call. Then it dawns on me, she told me—after our talk—that she was going on a last minute vacation. She wouldn’t be here.

It’d be the first time trying to do this
completely
alone. Normally there was someone home. Normally I’d have someone with me when I visited the graveyard. They weren’t with me constantly, but they were there if I needed them.
 

I scour the cars out front, using that as distraction from my problem, which is beginning to make my heart race, looking for someone who might be waiting for me.

A stern looking man eventually walks over to me. “Miss James?”

I nod my head, eyeing him suspiciously. “That’s me.”

“Great,” he smiles. “Your bag is already in the car, you ready to go?”

“I am.” I sigh, tiredness outweighing caution. Following him, we pass normal looking cars, and I expect it to be one of them and become concerned when we don’t stop at any. I hope he doesn’t plan on walking me home, London is miles away from where I want to be.

Looking at the back of his head, I notice he’s now covered his dark graying hair with a chauffeurs cap, just then he stops at a black Bentley and opens the back door. “You’re kidding right? You sure you got the right Miss James? I could have driven home in a banged up Mondeo.”

“No, Miss James, you’re the right one. Mr. Johnson insisted on the best we could offer. If you want to sleep in the back, feel free to. There is partition glass between us both, but if you need anything, there’s a phone that rings straight through. You just have to drop the center console to find it.”

Well, I’ll be damned. A Bentley? This wasn’t what I was expecting at all. “Fine, but if this ever happens again, feel free to come in a Mondeo that will definitely break down on the M1. I’m not used to this fancy plane and car malarkey.”

He tips his hat down and chuckles. “As you wish.”

“Oh, here’s the address.” I pass him a scrap of paper with my parents’ address, something I scribbled down while on the airplane to keep myself occupied as I waited to exit the aircraft.

With a sigh, I get in, smiling at the fact that my boss must seriously love me for doing this. I would have to buy him something, but what would you buy someone to say thank you, when they clearly have everything they need and want.

Sleep must have gotten the better of me. One minute I’m heading through the streets of London and getting on the M1, the next I’m driving up the A38, heading towards Derby. As tired as I am, nothing can stop the lunatic grin that immediately plasters itself on my face. It’s not home, but it’s where half my blood lies and I’m so excited to be here.

As we take the slip road off the A38, I check out my reflection in the glass and make sure I have everything with me.

Pulling into the street where my parents live I suddenly get a bout of the butterflies.

The car stops just on the first speed bump, just like I used too, and I hear the driver get out. My door opens and the sun hits me like a ton of bricks. Sod’s law; I move and they get perfect tanning weather. I wait for my bag, but Mr. Chauffeur looks at me with a stern expression. I guess he’s carrying it.

I walk down the garden path, digging the keys out from the bottom of my purse. I don’t know why I took them with me when I moved, I guess it was nice to know I could come back whenever I pleased. Sliding the key in the lock I turn it and slowly open the door, expecting my parents to come running down the stairs, but then I remember…They’re on holiday.

“Miss James?”

I look around to the driver startled. “Yes?”

“Your luggage.”

Shaking my head and rubbing my forehead, I look down at my bag. “Sure, thanks.”

“No problem,” handing me a card. “My number is on there, if you need anything day or night, transport wise, give me a call.”

“Thanks…” I say, glancing at the card. I check for a name. I can’t call him Mr. Driver, although I could call him Parker. “…Peter, I will.”

He tips his hat and walks back up the garden path.

Lugging my luggage into the house, I feel completely alone. The house is too quiet. I walk into the kitchen, fill the kettle and pop it on to boil. Checking the fridge, they have no milk.

After a quick check of the living room, I find a couple of quid and then take a short walk to the shop around the corner.

Getting back home I make myself a much needed cuppa tea and then brave my old bedroom.

Standing in the doorway and leaning against the frame, I glance around at the place I’d slept in, the walls that have seen me in pain, distraught and, for a short moment, happy. Everything is still the same, nothing has moved.

All the memories come flooding back to me, not that they ever truly left me, but they hit me like a double-decker bus; being here without having anyone to fall back on, my head in a place that isn’t safe scares me. It’s one thing thinking about it but being here, staring at the place where his moses basket sat that morning tears my chest open. How I managed to sleep in here all those years is a wonder, and I realize in that moment that I can’t stay here.

Running back downstairs, the family portraits all blurs on the wall, I skid into the kitchen, spilling my tea, although I think I’ve left a trail down the stairs. That’s the cream carpet ruined.

I dodge between the downstairs rooms, looking for my purse. Locating it, I grab my cell, and search out the hotel where the wedding is taking place tomorrow. Thankfully they have a room…one of the more expensive ones, but I don’t really care. I need to get out of here.

I make a call to Peter who seems to be surprised that I called him so soon. I don’t explain, just beg him to get here quickly, the tears already streaming down my face. I should have known I wouldn’t be able to handle this. Without my parents here I’m unable to keep myself together. They were the glue that helped me keep all my pieces intact.