Just the Way You Are (24 page)

A tiny sob slipped out, despite her best efforts to keep it locked inside. She screwed her eyes shut and busied herself with pouring some more coffee into my cup. I reached out and touch her crinkly, weathered hand.

‘Anyway, enough about me.’ She straightened her back and composed herself. ‘How’s the search for Leo coming along? Did you find him?’

‘Yes and no; I got in contact with his son a few weeks back and although he wasn’t crazy about the idea at first, he’s going to speak to Leo about it and get back to me.’

I saw her face visibly light up and my heart soared. This was exactly the reason I’d gotten so immersed in Ivy and Leo’s story in the first place: the love she had for him was as strong now as it had been fifty years ago and I just knew it was the same for him.

‘Darlin’, you’re an angel!’ She got up, stumbling a little as she did, and came over to hug me. ‘I can’t thank you enough for this, Ava. Without you, I’d never have dreamt of seeing Leo again.’

‘You’re more than welcome,’ I replied. ‘If anyone deserves a happy ending, it’s you.’

‘I don’t know about that!’ She chuckled lightly and sat back down. ‘Most women in their seventies aren’t chasing after someone they met fifty years ago.’

‘You’re not most women in their seventies,’ I countered with a grin.

‘What about you and this mystery admirer anyway? Come on, I wanna know every detail!’

Ivy made herself comfortable and picked at her pastry. Her eyes sparkled with a curiosity that made me smile. I’d missed seeing the gleam in her eyes.

‘Well… I finally know who he is.’

‘Who?!’ She leaned forward so as not to miss a thing.

‘It was my best friend Max,’ I replied, feeling a lead weight drop into my stomach as the argument we’d had replayed in my mind.

‘Well
there’s
a shocker.’ She flashed me a wry smile and took a small bite of her pastry.

I wrinkled my nose. ‘You knew?’

‘Child, from what you’ve told me about Max I could’ve bet money on him being the one sending you those letters.’

I blushed. It seemed the only one who hadn’t guessed it had been me.

‘It’s over anyway; I kind of ruined things with him by telling him he didn’t live up to my expectation of what my secret admirer would be like.’

‘Now why in the world would you do that? I’m surprised at you; I thought when you found out who he was, you’d be overjoyed.’

Ivy looked both hurt and appalled at me. I guessed it was mainly to do with the fact I’d had my happy ending right in front of me but thrown it away.

‘It’s not as simple as that Ivy.’ I explained to her about my lifetime of feeling like I fell short of people’s expectations and how Max writing about giving up on me had convinced me he was just like everyone else. I told her about his confidence issues, about his fears of not being good enough and how that could impact a potential relationship. Emotions twisted and shifted inside me. It felt good to be sharing it with someone.

Ivy sighed and drank some more of her coffee.

‘Ava darlin’ – if it’s one thing you ain’t, it’s stupid. Max would no more give up on you than chop his own hand off. He wrote to you all those years ago then started again because he was still in love with you. If that ain’t love then I don’t know what is. Maybe he got a little scared and thought giving up was the best option, so what? Nobody’s perfect, right? Everyone gets scared sometimes Ava, especially when it comes to love. We say things we shouldn’t say, we take the easy option instead of the right one. To me, it sounds like he was frightened of hurting you like he did when he wrote to you before or disappointing you. I know it’s scary to let someone love you and love them back; in the end though, you just have to be a little bit brave.’

I left Ivy’s a little while later and drove home, her words spinning through my mind. She was right, of course; love was all about being brave and I just wasn’t. I went with the safest or easiest option every time, never taking risks and never getting hurt. I’d even gone on those stupid blind dates Gwen had set up, having already decided I didn’t like the guys. I’d clung to the fantasy of Mr Writer for so long, proclaiming him to be the only perfect guy in the world, without realising that he didn’t exist. Not really. Well he did on paper, but I now knew he was really Max. I was still trying to wrap my head around that.

I got in to find Gwen on the couch with a large tub of ice cream watching
Beaches
, our favourite weepy film.

‘Oh Barbara and Bette are on, you must’ve had a bad day!’

‘A girl at my work got engaged today: Danielle. She’s a junior designer like me, met her boyfriend Harry at a car boot sale three months ago. He came into the office with a big bunch of flowers and proposed to her while everyone was watching. And then there’s little old me with my multiple failed relationships and a mum desperate for grandchildren!’

I got a spoon from the kitchen and joined her on the couch.

‘Snap,’ I said. ‘Maddie McQueen’s footballer boyfriend rocked up to the magazine today with a town crier and a glass slipper. Will we form a Single Pringles Club? I’ve not exactly been successful in the relationships department. My mum gave up on being a grandma years ago.’

Gwen rolled her eyes and spooned some Phish Food ice cream into her mouth.

‘Jesus Christ, talk about overkill. If a bloke turned up at my work with all that jazz, I’d ring the police. Single Pringles Club sounds like a good idea though. Can I make badges and T-shirts?’

‘Sure, I’ll sort out the ice cream and girly movies,’ I said.

We high-fived and turned our attention back to the movie. Hillary and John fancied each other like mad and CC really wasn’t happy about it. The situation kind of reminded me of the one Gwen, Max and I had recently found ourselves in.

‘You never told me what happened with Max,’ I said, instantly wishing I had a rewind button.

Why the hell had I asked that?!

‘We were lying on his bed kissing and he pulled away from me, said something didn’t feel right. I asked what he meant and he said something about our friendship being too important to screw up by taking it further. It’s the nicest break-up I’ve ever had actually; at least he wasn’t married.’

I cringed inwardly. This was my punishment for asking, I suppose, answers I didn’t like. As I scooped some ice cream out with my spoon, I wondered whether to tell her about what Max had said to me. I could tell her the whole story, of how I loved and lost him in the space of just a few hours.

‘Can I tell you something in confidence?’ she asked.

‘Of course!’ My already fraying nerves stood to attention. The last thing I needed was another revelation to throw my world into yet another tailspin.

‘Although Max and I parted on good terms and are staying friends and stuff, I’m pretty gutted that things didn’t work out. There was a time where I thought it might turn into something special.’

That answered my question for me. Of course I couldn’t tell her. Not yet anyway. She’d liked him more than I’d expected and it would break her heart to know he’d told me he loved me a few hours later.

‘The only way is up, according to Yazz. Anyway missy, when are you going to meet up with the last Mr Writer candidate? Didn’t that MistySparkles or whatever her name was say she knew who he was as well?’

‘I’m not meeting the third one; after what happened with James Kelly, I’m not taking the chance. I know Adam was normal, but Dean will probably end up being the worst out of the three of them. MistySparkles27’s been a bit quiet on the old email front recently, so I’m starting to think that might’ve been a hoax.’

‘Email her and see! I’ll go with you so you’re not on your own if she turns out to be a nutter. You can’t just leave it here Ava, you’ve come so bloody far!’

Oh Gwen, if you only knew.

‘Look, we’ll talk about it later,’ I said. ‘Let’s just watch
Beaches
eh?’

She snatched the remote and put the TV off. ‘No, we’ll talk about it now.’

‘Hey!’

‘Look chick, how long have we been best friends?’

‘Since infant school?’

‘Exactly, and it falls to me to tell you when you’re being a massive twat. You’ve been obsessed with this guy for years and I’ve been there and listened to all your wild theories about him, read every single letter…’

Not every one.

‘Sorry if I’ve been boring you!’

I folded my arms and tensed my shoulders. Gwen had given more than a couple of hints recently that my search for Mr Writer had grated on her, so why didn’t she just come out and say it? Something resembling anger bubbled and hissed under my surface. Normally I found it impossible to be angry at Gwen, but her snidey comments were beginning to get to me.

‘My point is,’ Gwen continued, not bothering to tell me I was wrong, ‘I’ve been there for it all and I know how important he is to you. You’ve come too far to give up now. That MistySparkles said she knew who Mr Writer was, so the least you can do is email her. Who knows, he might even turn out to be real.’

That wasn’t the first remark she’d made to suggest Mr Writer wasn’t real and it annoyed me. I’d let the first one go because she’d been devastated over Tom but this one was just out of order.

‘If you think he’s just a figment of my imagination or someone’s idea of a joke, just say so.’

‘It’s not that chick, I… I’m just not sure I buy into the whole secret-admirer-sending-anonymous-love-letters thing. Maybe that kind of thing happened years ago, but nowadays if a guy fancies you, he lets you know. He’ll ask you out for a drink or to a movie; he won’t send love letters for God knows how long.’

That wasn’t easy to hear, especially coming from Gwen. I swallowed hard to stop what I wanted to say from coming out and decided to take the high road instead.

‘That’s not what you said when the letters started coming again. You were all for it and nagging me to find him; funny how your tune changed when Tom turned out to be married.’

She let out a hollow laugh and stood up. Her tiny elfin frame didn’t look the least bit intimidating.

‘At least the people I go out with are
real.
OK, Tom might’ve lied to me and I might not have the best track record with relationships, but at least I’m out there trying to meet someone! You’d rather sit at home, wrapped up in your fantasies about someone who at the end of the day is just a bunch of words on paper. Where is he to hug you when you’re sad, or celebrate with you when something good happens? Nowhere. He’s not around to keep you warm at night and he never will be!’

It was my turn to angrily leap to my feet. ‘Don’t judge my admirer by your own low standards! Not every guy’s like Tom, you know. They don’t all come with a catch.’

‘And this is coming from the one who rejects any remotely decent guy because she thinks they might leave her like Dave did? You know, I’m actually starting to see why he didn’t ask you to go with him; you’re a fucking train wreck!’

I stormed off to my room, determined not to let Gwen see the tears brimming at the back of my eyes. Not only did I have no idea how to fix things with Max, the events playing in my mind like a haunting vignette I couldn’t shift, I’d now fallen out with my best friend. Things had officially hit rock bottom.

I threw myself down on my bed and screamed into a pillow. Everything had been going so well but it was all sliding to shit. I flipped onto my back and realised I’d never felt more alone in my life. Not when my dad had abandoned my mum and me, not when Dave had left or at the end of each horrible blind date, when a tiny bit of my faith in true love had been extinguished. The only pain that had come close to this had been when Max had stormed out a couple of weeks ago.

Just then, my phone rang. I jumped a little, thinking it was Max calling to straighten things out or Gwen phoning from the living room to say she was sorry. I didn’t know how badly wrong I was until I hit Accept Call.

‘Hello, is this Ava Clements?’ a panicked American woman asked.

‘Yeah, speaking; who’s this?’

‘My name’s Carolyn Walters, I’m Ivy St Clair’s daughter! S-she’s been rushed to hospital; they think she’s picked up some kind of infection from her treatment. A-anyway, she’s asking for you to come down, she wants to see you. Will you come?’

The blood flowing through my veins froze. I couldn’t bear to think of Ivy lying in hospital, weak and vulnerable, hooked up to drips. The thought made a lump swell in my throat.

‘I’ll be right there.’

As I scrambled to find my car keys and shoes, I realised I’d been wrong earlier.
Now
things had hit rock bottom.

Chapter 23

I got to Manchester Royal Infirmary in ten minutes flat. It was usually at least a twenty-minute journey with good traffic but I’d given myself an advantage by breaking the speed limit twice and going through a red light. If Ivy had taken a turn for the worse, I needed to be there as soon as possible. A speeding ticket was the least of my worries.

In a blind panic, I crashed through the doors of the large glass building. Ambulance crews were wheeling patients in for treatment, doctors and nurses were shouting orders across the corridor and one old man with a nasty gash on his shiny, bald head was shouting and swearing because he hadn’t been seen yet. Apparently, the medical staff were all “bastards” and the NHS was a “fucking joke”. He stumbled off in the direction of the canteen, hurling insults to any passing staff.

I approached the reception desk, my mind racing and heart pounding in my ears. I was aware this might be the last time I’d see Ivy and it broke my heart.

‘Um… I-I’m looking for Ivy St Clair please. She’s having treatment for cancer and she was brought in with an infection.’

The kind-looking nurse came out from behind the desk and put a comforting hand on my arm. ‘She’s in the oncology ward my love; follow me.’

We walked down a wide, bright corridor, turned left then right and walked onto a ward of private rooms. I saw a tall, dark woman pacing around outside one of them; judging by how much she looked like Ivy, I guessed that was Carolyn.

She turned to see who was coming and ran up to me.