Happy Endings (34 page)

‘Safe travels.’

‘Oh, you too, love. I hope you have someone special waiting for you.’

I smiled back, but the truth was I didn’t know. I didn’t know if he was there or if he was even special anymore.

After the anxious wait at the luggage carrousel for my backpack, I finally made my way through customs and then I walked into the arrivals area. For some reason whenever I walked through arrivals, I always felt a bit like a celebrity: everyone looking at me, hordes of unfamiliar faces and all I was doing was trying to find my special face, the one who was there just for me.

I walked through and the sunlight from behind the gathered crowd hit me. Somewhere in the distance I could hear the Snow Patrol song ‘Chocolate’ and I smiled; a flood of memories came back in a second. Our song. The song that had been playing the day I met Ed in the student union. My heart was beating wildly in my chest as I kept walking, looking and not knowing. Then, just as I was giving up hope, I saw him. I stopped dead in my tracks because there, about ten feet in front of me, was Ed and he looked different. Very different.

I didn’t know what to do. Should I run to him or should I not? What was I going to say? The only thing I knew was that he looked better. Younger. Like the Ed I used to know. It wasn’t until he started walking towards me that I realised the music was coming from Ed. He was carrying an iPod with speakers. The Snow Patrol song got louder as Ed walked towards me, until eventually, when he was right in front of me, the last line rang out.

‘Our song,’ is all I could say.

‘I’ve missed you,’ said Ed with a dizzy smile.

‘Missed you too,’ I said, looking at him quizzically. ‘What’s with the circa-two-thousand-and-four outfit?’

‘I’ll explain that later. Fancy a drink?’

‘I’d love one.’

‘I hoped you’d say that,’ said Ed, picking up my backpack with a smile.

To: Emma Fogle

From: Kate Jones

Subject: I made it!

Em,

I’m writing this at the airport in LA. I’m about to get on the plane and come home. It’s so strange to think that in thirteen hours I’ll be landing back in London. It’s even stranger to think that my trip is over. I don’t feel ready for it to be done yet. I want to come back to see everyone, especially you, of course, but I’m so worried about Ed and what I’m going to do next. I guess Ed was right in one respect, it is really hard going back because it feels like I’ve changed so much, done so many things, but I’m going back to the same old London.

I wanted to write you a last email because I want to remember how I felt. I want you to know how I feel right now because I’m sure at some point in the future I’m going to need you to remind me.

I realised something while I was away. Life is short and we can’t spend years and years of it being unhappy because we’re afraid to change. There’s nothing scarier than travelling the world on your own, arriving in new towns, in new hostels and not knowing a single soul. It’s terrifying, but exhilarating at the same time. Life before wasn’t exciting or exhilarating, it was dull and I don’t want to go back to that. I’m not saying I don’t want Ed, but I don’t want our old life. Our old life was shit. Not the bits with you in, obviously, but the bit with me, Ed, our house and jobs.

I’m going to travel more. I’m going to teach English at sixth form and be a positive influence on teenagers’ lives. I’m not going to accept second best and being fairly happy. I’m going to strive to be as happy as I can be. I’m going to be fearless.

I don’t know what the future holds. I don’t know if Ed is going to be at the airport when I get back or not, but, whatever happens, I will always be your best friend, Em. Writing these emails and thinking about you and us for the past six months, I’ve come to realise that you are the love of my life. Forget the men; when it comes to it, I can always rely on you. I’ll see you soon. Off to take my last flight. My future awaits . . .

For the last time,

Love K x

Ed

I was ten years old when Dad first took me into London. We grew up in Slough, which was only a short train ride away, but for some reason we never went into the big city. Dad didn’t like it much; too big, too loud, too many people, too expensive, was his litany. London was practically a dirty word in our house.

I didn’t realise then, of course, but it was because he didn’t like to see what he was missing out on. He lived in a dingy part of a satellite town that clung onto the coat-tails of London; he didn’t need reminding he hadn’t quite made it in life. I, on the other hand, loved it. London was everything I was missing in Slough.

Dad and I had an argument the day he took me to London. I wanted a Happy Meal, but he’d brought along a packed lunch Mum had made. I saw other kids eating out with their parents and I wanted the same. I stomped, shouted and screamed like a right little brat until Dad dragged me away. He was probably angry, embarrassed, and I remember being furious with him. Why couldn’t I have what all the other kids had? Why was I forced to eat a jam sandwich and a packet of crisps when the other kids had burgers and fries? I look back now and wince because I realise that my parents just couldn’t afford it. They would have given me the world if they could, but they just didn’t have the money. What I didn’t know then, and what it’s taken me years to appreciate is that although we didn’t have much money, they gave me all of their time and every ounce of their love, which was far more important than any Happy Meal.

I looked into the mirror in the dingy old toilets of the pub Kate and I were in and smiled. I suppose the biggest thing I’d learnt had been that I needed Kate. Nothing more, nothing less, just Kate, and if I had her then everything else would fall into place. Everything I wanted in life was sitting just a few feet behind a door. I dried my hands, had one last look in the mirror, took a deep breath and then opened the door.

Kate looked different. She still looked beautiful, but not how I remember. Obviously the longer hair, the hippy trousers and her skin being sun-kissed olive instead of pale white made a difference, but it was more than that. She had changed too.

‘How was it?’ I said, sitting down and taking a sip of my pint.

‘It was incredible, Ed. Really, really incredible. I did things I never thought I’d do and met so many amazing people. But more importantly what’s happened to you? What’s with the outfit, the week of stubble and the long hair? What happened to old Ed?’

‘Old Ed got fired.’

‘What?!’ said Kate incredulously. ‘You mean you don’t work at the bank anymore?’

‘Nope.’

‘You’re no longer a wanker banker?’

‘No longer a wanker full stop, I hope.’

‘I, for one, think that’s fantastic news.’

‘I’m glad you said that.’

‘Why?’

‘Listen, Kate, a lot has happened since you left, with me, with us and it feels impossible to tell you about everything, but something’s changed in me. I can feel it. You were right before by the way. I was lost in my job, but now . . .’

‘You’ve seen the light?’

‘Something like that. Let me start at the beginning.’

‘I’m sitting comfortably,’ said Kate with a smile, adjusting herself in her seat.

‘Then I’ll begin.’

I told her everything. I told her all about Georgie, which was difficult but good to get off my chest. I told her about losing my job and how Hugh had made me realise that no matter how hard I worked, I would never be one of them. I explained how I went to see my dad and discovered I was more like him than I’d realised and that maybe I’d spent too long chasing the wrong dream. I explained all about going to see Pete in Nottingham and how it had affected me. I told her how I’d thought back to when we first met at university and I realised that all I really needed, had ever needed, was her.

‘I guess what I’m really saying is that I love you, Kate, and if you’ll have me, I’d like to spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as we imagined back then. I’m not asking you to marry me, but just imagine a life together.’ Kate looked at me for a moment and I don’t think she knew what to say. I’d told her a lot. I was still coming to terms with everything myself and so I couldn’t expect her to jump on the bandwagon straight away. ‘And I understand a lot has changed. You’ve changed and probably have plans of your own. I don’t need an answer right now, take all the time you need. I know we can’t go back and change what’s happened, but maybe we can start again.’

‘But I’m not sure we want the same things anymore, Ed,’ she replied and I felt a knot in my chest; I caught my breath for a moment. ‘You’ve changed and I’m happy about that, I really am, but I don’t want you to be something you’re not just for me. One thing I realised while I was away is that we have to be true to ourselves. I wasn’t happy before because I was living your dream, your version of life and I don’t want you to be unhappy because you’re living mine.’

I think my biggest problem was I was always looking forward and never appreciating the present. I was forever pushing for something intangible and far away, trying to better myself, better us, but in the clamour I forgot about the now. It was like Kate and I had been doing the three-legged race, but instead of working together in harmony, I was dragging her along with me, more worried about the win than enjoying being tied to the love of my life.

‘I was wrong in November, Kate. When you asked me to come travelling with you I should have come. I was scared. Scared of change, of leaving my job, of wandering off into the unknown and not knowing what was going to happen when I got back . . .’

‘But it was my dream, not yours.’

‘But don’t you see, it doesn’t matter because the only dream I have is you. I’ve been thinking a lot about the future and I do want to start my own business like I always planned. I want to be the me I was at twenty-one. I want to follow his dreams because he was right. But right now, before I can do that, I need to fix things with you. So I don’t care what we do next or where we go. If you want to jump on a plane to Azerbaijan, then book me a ticket too. If you want to start a small organic farm in north Wales, then buy me some wellington boots.’

‘And whatever I do, you’ll come with me?’

‘I’m all in. You’re the love of my life, Kate. I’d follow you anywhere. For a start, I’m unemployed, I have nothing else to do,’ I said and she laughed. ‘I just want to be with you.’

‘I’m going to be a sixth form teacher,’ she said suddenly.

‘That’s great. You’ll be a fantastic teacher.’

‘You think so?’

‘You’re intelligent, funny and kind and you love telling people what to do, you’ll be a knockout.’

‘It means going back to university, but I won’t be able to get in this year. I’ve almost a whole year to wait so I was thinking about teaching English abroad.’

‘Right . . .’

‘What’s that face?’

‘What face?’

‘That face with the wrinkled forehead. See, the idea of going abroad terrifies you.’

‘It does, of course it does, but what terrifies me more is losing you again.’

‘You’ll come with me?’ said Kate, looking at me with those beautiful eyes. ‘Wherever I end up?’

‘I’d follow you to the ends of the earth.’

‘But what about when we get back? What then?’

‘Then,’ I said, reaching across and holding her hand. ‘We’ll see what happens. Maybe a year off is just what we both need. It will give me time to figure out what sort of business I want to run and you some time too. This is what we both need, Kate.

I looked across at her and she smiled.

‘Love you,’ she said.

‘Love you too,’ I replied.

July

Jack

We were in The Goat in Boots pub on the Fulham Road waiting for Ed and Kate. It was a Friday afternoon and it would be the first time we’d seen Kate since she’d left us six months earlier. Emma was excited to have her best friend back and I was too. It had been heart-wrenching losing the baby and I knew it would help Emma to have Kate around again. As much as Emma loved me and as much as I wanted to help and comfort her, I realised I could only do so much. Kate could fill in where I couldn’t.

I was waiting to hear back from Morris Gladstone because he’d submitted my novel to a selection of publishers and we were waiting on offers. I was beyond nervous. It was the moment I’d been working towards since I was fourteen and despite all of the words of encouragement from Morris, I was fully expecting him to come back and tell me it was drivel after all. I’d been kidding myself the past month that I was going to be published. Visions of grandeur seemed to constantly cloud my mind: book signings, an award or two, a number-one bestseller and maybe a film. Morris was probably having a midlife crisis, was going barmy or was just plain wrong and I’d be found out as the talentless hack I was. I’d work at To Bean or Not to Bean for the rest of my worthless life. I’d retire at sixty-five and they’d give me a Shakespeare mug for all my years of service.

‘Oh my God!’ screamed Emma suddenly.

‘Oh my God!’ came an equally high-pitched squeal from across the pub.

I looked across and Kate and Ed had just walked in. Emma was immediately up and running across the pub. It was the happiest I’d seen her in a long time and it made me smile.