The Art of Letting Go (The Uni Files) (30 page)

I realised in the early hours of this morning that Ben has effectively saved me. Saved me from an existence I was living but not enjoying. If I had not met him, I don’t know if I ever would have been brave enough to do the things I have. He has made me stronger, and right now I am far happier than I have ever been in my life and far happier than I ever thought I could be. It is the combination of him and me together that has made me feel this way. Equal parts, Ben and Lilah.

Admittedly, the shag fest that was yesterday is doing nothing to put me off the fact that I made the right decision.

Oh god, my phone! Do people not know I am in a post-reunion sexual haze? I thought we had made that point quite clear by shouting at the girls to go away yesterday when they attempted to track us down.

Oh no, It's Mr. Sleaze from Arseholes R’Us.

I have just hung up as Ben comes back in balancing mugs and plates of doorstep marmite toast.

“Please tell me there isn't trouble in paradise already?” he asks, slipping back under the covers and passing me my plate.

He knows me well enough. Toast is a priority. If it’s not hot, it’s just not worth eating. We had this conversation in great detail yesterday when we had to conduct a taste test to see who was right. It also has to be buttered to the extreme edges, no slither of bread left uncovered.

“Will you come and view a flat with me today?”

He frowns and traces a hand up my thigh. “I did have other things in mind. Can’t Tristan and Meredith do it?”

“They are going to see my mum and dad.” I stick my tongue out.

“When do I get to meet your parents?”

“Um, probably never, although through no fault of your own.”

I offer him a shrug and my very attractive scrunched up face. I do not like to talk about my parents. They are officially off my list of acceptable topics for discussion.

“Well, that is probably a good thing. I would more than likely deck your dad, and that would not make for a good first impression.”

I laugh at this, which makes me choke on my mouthful of toast. “Like you could deck anyone.” I giggle. “I may have to orchestrate a meeting now, just so I can see you try.”

He wraps his arms around me and pulls me in against him. “What time is the viewing?”

“Twelve-thirty,” I mumble as I nibble his ear lobe.

“Excellent, no need to rush then.” He smiles as he slides himself back over me, his knee snaking between my legs, his hands sliding over my ribs.

I clap my hand behind his back and arch myself up to meet him.

Yep, I could definitely get used to this.

The Viewing

The viewing is in Barnes. This is not a good start. Tristan has made it quite clear that any new property has to be in Putney. Something to do with him having to be surrounded by the hub of urban life so he can be inspired for his articles.

I blew him a big fat raspberry when he told me this, and retorted that I thought he was a wanker urbanite who talked and wrote out of his arse.

4.30 p.m.

Ben and I decide to walk down to Barnes. For some reason we thought that it was quite close. We must have been under some sort of sex-induced delusion. It is not that close, a good forty-minute walk. It is worth it though, when, along the muddy footpath we are sliding around in, I spot my first snowdrops of the year.

Ben watches in amusement as I do my little ‘spring is here’ dance and jump up and down pointing to the delicate white flowers.

“Spring is here, Ben!” I shout.

“I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about, crazy girl.”

“Look, it’s the first snowdrop! That means winter is nearly over!” I exclaim, gesturing wildly at my little find.

Ben gives me his wicked grin. “You really are completely crackers. I had no idea you had such a strong interest in horticulture.”

I swat him with my hand, but then pull him in and wrap my arm tight around his waist.

I am out walking with my boyfriend.
Whoop, whoop!
It’s a romantic springtime walk. Nothing can ruin this.

Nothing. Not even spending the next half an hour trying to find the right road for the viewing. All roads in Barnes look the same to me. This is a definite negative selling point. I would never be able to find my way home. Eventually, we come across a petrol garage where Ben goes in to buy some fags and ask directions. Apparently it is just the road across.

Finally we find it and I am completely in love with it before we have even stepped inside. It is a Victorian Conversion, which from the outside has all the look of a Victorian town house, stained-glass windows and blue front door with a brass knocker.

By the time the old lady answers the door, I am jumping up and down with excitement. Ben is looking at me like I am completely demented as I clutch his hand with eager enthusiasm. The moment we are ushered through the front door I know this is where we are going to live next year—this might be where I live forever. I don’t care how much it costs.
I am going to live here.

“Is this your first home together?” the lady asks as she walks us down the hallway.

“Um, no, it will just be Lilah,” Ben says without any explanation. His voice is a little tight.

“Oh. What a shame, you look like such a happy couple, and this is the perfect home for a new family. I had all four of my children here before we converted it into the two apartments.”

My ears prick up at this.

“Really? How long have you lived here?” I ask.

She looks around the rooms like she can still see the ghosts of the past there. “Sixty-six years,” she replies. “I’ll leave you to have a look about. It’s all self-explanatory.”

She moves away as Ben and I stare at each other. Sixty-six years. Wow.

I turn in place taking in the beautiful room with its high ceiling and ornate plasterwork. There are alcoves crammed with books and an old worn desk shoved in one corner. I feel I could cry. Ben grabs my hand and leads me towards the bedrooms, which are all a decent size with a black- and white-checked bathroom sandwiched in between. As we walk through the kitchen to the courtyard garden, I notice that Ben is staring more at his feet than at the house.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“I can see you here,” he says softly, his thumb tracing patterns on my palm.

I know what he means. I can see him here, too.

Oh god.

My eyes fill with tears before I can hold them in check.

He wipes one away and pulls me in. “It’s all good, Lilah. This place is perfect for you and I think I can be happy knowing that you are here.”

I kiss his lips, and then turn to find the old lady standing there watching us.

“You two look good in here together. Reminds me of my husband and me when we moved in. I was expecting our first child straight away so the first room he decorated was the nursery. He painted it blue, dead sure that it was going to be a boy.”

This makes me cry even harder.

“Was it?” I blub. “A boy?”

“No. Stupid old fool, I told him to go for the yellow,” she says with a wink, and I crack a watery smile.

“I will be in contact with the Estate Agent this afternoon and will make an offer,” I say.

I know it is tactically incorrect to say this but I like her and I really want this house.

As we are leaving, she squeezes Ben’s arm. “I think you will be a frequent visitor here, young man.”

He smiles at her. “I hope so,” he says with deep sincerity.

The moment we are down the path I grab my phone, call Mr. Sleaze and offer the full asking price.

5.45 p.m.

Tristan is going to wet his pants when I tell him I have put an offer on the place when he has not seen it, but I am feeling very impulsive at the moment, and am just desperately hoping that all my erratic impulsive behaviour pays off.

Things have been quieter between Ben and me for the rest of the day, not necessarily in a bad way, but we are just bunked down in his room. I am looking for ideas for our project and Ben is playing the Gibson, making up terrible little ditties for me that do not rhyme at all.

9.00 p.m.

Meredith and Tristan are back later and I have told them good news. Tristan actually took it really well, and Meredith squealed with delight as I described the place to her. I bagsied the largest bedroom. Just out of principle, and to be a little bit annoying.

“Why on earth would you get the biggest room?” asks Tristan in his most sardonic voice. “There is only one of you and two of us.”

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Obvious, exactly,” I reply tartly. “As I shall have to share with you annoyingly grotesque love birds, I get the bigger room since I will have to hide in there all the time.”

Tristan stares at me for the longest moment, and Ben, who has been rubbing my feet, pauses in his motions.

“Deal, Delilah.” Tristan laughs.

I gave a little whoop of joy. And I try very hard not to think about the fact that I will be in there without Ben.

11th March

It has been a bit of an odd day for reasons that will soon become apparent. Ben is asleep, and I have been lying staring at the ceiling. I have given up staring into the darkness. I can’t find any answers there. So I shall write it all down instead. Maybe I will be able to make more sense of it then.

7.30 a.m.

A good start.

“Do you think I should move a bag of stuff in?” I ask.

Ben glances at me with a questioning look on his face. He is shaving in the mirror. In all the months we have been on/off together, I have never actually sat and watched him shave. There is something incredibly sexy and manly about it. It makes me want to get up and kiss his jaw. Which I do. Winding my arms around his naked waist.

“You only live next door?”

“What? Don’t you want me to move some stuff in?”

“Stop reading into things.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“It’s fine, I will just leave my stuff next door."

It is not fine. Next door seems like a million miles away.

He gives a groan and marches out of the door wrapped only in his towel. Then I hear a loud bang on the wall, followed by his voice.

“What do you want to pack, Lilah? Come on! We haven't got all bloody day.”

For some reason I thought us merging all our stuff together would be a bit more romantic than this.

7.40 a.m.

An unfortunate turn of events.

I skip through the door and gleefully pack my underwear, toothbrush, hairdryer, and my packet of pills. And then I stop in my tracks. My packet of pills. How on earth have I forgotten this? Trying to be discreet, I turn the packet over and check exactly how many days I have missed. I have not taken it since the night before the Digby bar reunion. That was like four days ago.
Oh, I am sure it will be fine
, I think, shaking the thought from my mind. There is no way this dormitory could be that unlucky to have two accidental pregnancies.

Surely.

“What are you looking at, Lilah? Come on. We are going to be la . . .”

His voice trails off as he sees the foil strip in my hand.

“What’s that?” he asks.

In two strides he is across the room and taking the packet out of my hand before I have the chance to hide it in my pocket.

“Oh, nothing to worry about, Ben. It’s all fine.”

He’s studying the back of the packet.

“But it’s not Friday. It’s Monday,” he says, blues searching my face. “Lilah, what does this mean?”

“It means I have been a complete idiot and forgotten to take my pill for a few days. But it’s nothing to worry about. I used to forget to take it all the time.”

I’m lying.

He cocks an eyebrow. “Maybe so, Lilah. But you didn’t have sex back then.”

Damn it! Sometimes I really regret telling him things. He never forgets a single word I say.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” I insist, more firmly this time.

I don’t want him to panic, although I can feel my breathing starting to hitch in an alarming manner.

“I am not panicking.”

“What? Why aren’t you panicking?”

Hell, I am.

“Because I’m not.”

The blues gaze at me steadily. “It wouldn’t bother me either way. Whatever happens, happens.”

He steps toward me and tilts my chin up to face him. He does not say anything for the longest time, just stares at me, then he kisses me in the sweetest way ever.

“Come on, crazy girl. We’re going to be late for class.”

That’s it. That’s all he has to say on the subject. We walk the whole way to class in silence holding hands, not in the casual way of the past when we were not really together, but in a new way that somehow manages to radiate our ‘couple’ status.

It feels really good. It’s like a massive weight has been lifted from me. I no longer have to worry about where he is, or what he is doing, or whether I will see him or not. Or whether he will wait for me after class or come to the library. I no longer have to think about these things because he is right there next to me, holding my hand.

The bad news is that this means that I can think about other things such as
Holy shit! I might be pregnant!
or
Fuck! What have I done?

9.30 a.m.

By the time we get to class I am a sweaty, nervous wreck. When we separate to go sit in our own seats Ben tugs on my hand and pulls me in close, kissing me on the lips in front of the whole class including Professor Johnson.