The One We Fell in Love With (13 page)

‘You found my old diary,’ I state as it dawns on me.

She looks away uneasily.

‘You bitch! I can’t believe you read it!’ I hiss. ‘Well, maybe
I
should tell Phoebe that you had it off with Angus at Darryl’s New Year’s Eve party!
He thought you were me,’ I say nastily. ‘But
you
let him kiss you.
You
let him touch you.’ I don’t know this for sure, but I know Angus and I know how he
was with me the night before.

I’m right, because Rose looks like she’s going to throw up.

‘Instead of accusing
me
of betraying Phoebe, why don’t you take a good, long look at yourself,
Rosie
,’ I spit. I laugh suddenly and look around. ‘Wow,
if Judy and Mum could hear us, they’d cancel the wedding themselves,’ I say scathingly. ‘Jesus, you know what? I
am
going to tell Phoebe that Angus would have had either
of us, too. She deserves to understand what she’s walking into before she marries the guy.’

‘No, don’t,’ Rose splutters. ‘You’d ruin everything for her. She’d be so cut up.’

I’m vaguely aware of the phone ringing inside the house, but I’m on a roll. ‘I disagree. She needs to hear the truth.’

‘IT’S PHOEBE!’ Mum yells.

‘
Perfect!
’ I erupt. ‘Perfect timing, Feebs.’ I smile evilly at Rose. ‘Maybe I’ll tell her right now...’

Phoebe

Sometimes I can’t believe I’m still here. I’m having a proper ‘pinch me’ moment, right now. I’m sitting on the balcony looking up at the
mountains. The setting sun is casting a bright amber light across the snow-capped peaks. It is beyond beautiful.

Remy and I are heading into Chamonix tonight for dinner, but he was late coming back from today’s climb.

Before he went inside, he asked me if I was happy. I think he worries sometimes when he catches me deep in thought, which admittedly, is quite often.

The truth is, the dream I had last night is still playing on my mind. In it, Dad and I were ascending a mountain and I was teasing him about the time he’d confided in me that he’d
grown up amongst brothers so had always wanted sons, but instead he’d got daughters: three of them.

I was fifteen when he first said this. We were climbing in the Welsh hills and I had just reached the top of Cemetery Gates. I remember him being so proud. He hugged me and told me that I was as
good as any son.

In my dream he smiled and repeated these words, but then he vanished and I screamed, certain that he’d fallen. I woke up sobbing and Remy had to hold me until I calmed down.

I think Dad’s on my mind because I know how much he would have loved the climb Remy and I did yesterday. It was the Rébuffat route on the South Face of the Aiguille du Midi. It was
technical and it took us almost six hours, but Dad would have been proud.

Sometimes I feel so clunky, like I’m lumbering up the mountainside, but today everything just flowed.

I adore climbing with Remy. He’s so beautiful and he has such grace – he’s like a dancer, moving up the rock. I know that’s what Dad once said about me, that I reminded
him of Catherine Destivelle, my rock climbing heroine. Dad’s hero was the legendary Joe Brown, the ‘human spider’ – Manchester born and bred.

The thing about Remy is that he’s always challenging me and forcing me to step out of my comfort zone. The first time he ever did that was on our very first date when he took me
paragliding. I was terrified, which was pretty unusual for me, so he really had to persuade me. What did he say? ‘It’s the purest, simplest form of aviation’ or something like
that. He said I’d feel like I was flying.

I remember indignantly telling him that I wasn’t a fricking bird, and he laughed so hard. But he wasn’t going to be deterred. He convinced me that doing something out of the ordinary
would stimulate my mind. So many people go through life just coasting, but shifting my perspective would feel amazing.

He was right. We did a tandem flight together and when we ran down the hill, I was petrified, but then my feet were off the ground and we were floating over dark-green pine trees with the
mountains all around. It was so incredible. My heart soared.

It’s still soaring today.

So to answer Remy’s earlier question, yes, I
am
happy. I just mustn’t think too much.

Rose

The knock on my bedroom door jolts me to attention. It’s late afternoon and I’ve been lying on my bed, reading.

‘Rose?’ Mum calls as I quickly sit up. ‘I’m making tea. Would you like one?’

‘Sure! I’ll come down.’

She doesn’t usually seek me out when she’s putting the kettle on. She must be lonely. Either that, or she has something to talk about.

In the end, both prove to be correct.

‘I think it’s time,’ she says, her voice wavering when I appear in the kitchen.

I gather her in my arms and give her a hug, fighting back tears myself.

‘I’ll speak to the estate agent tomorrow,’ I tell her.

‘I’ve called them already,’ she replies. ‘They said they can use the same photos, so it might even go live in the morning.’

Unsurprisingly, last summer’s sale fell through. It’s not like Mum hadn’t been having her doubts, but it’s been almost a year now so I’m relieved she’s
finally come back around to the idea.

‘I’ve also found a little place that I think will suit me just fine,’ she says brightly. ‘It’s a bungalow, not far from here. A rental, so I won’t have to
worry about being stuck in a chain.’

‘That’s great, Mum.’ I pretend not to notice her watery eyes.

‘I think I’ll go quickly, this time,’ she says. ‘No delaying it. Will you return to London?’ she asks.

‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘I want to stay here.’

Her lips pinch together. ‘Don’t you think it’s time you went back to work?’

‘Not yet, Mum.’

‘You mustn’t let that man ruin your career, Rose,’ she warns, and I can see that she’d quite like to shake me, but she manages to refrain.

‘It’s not just Gerard,’ I say, although finding out that he knocked up his wife while telling me they were getting a divorce was admittedly quite a blow. ‘I feel like I
need a change from nursing.’

‘What about taking a job at one of the hospitals here?’ she suggests, not really listening to me.

‘Maybe,’ I reply, not wanting to make any promises.

In the end, quitting my job in London last October and moving home to Sale permanently to be with Mum was an easy decision. But living with her hasn’t been as easy. Eliza moved out when I
moved in – she and I were never going to last long in the same house. She claimed she was ready to live somewhere new anyway, but instead of moving to London, she shacked up with one of her
waitress friends in the city.

Meanwhile, Mum and I soldiered on alone. We didn’t get a lodger, and without my sisters the silence has been deafening. Mum has felt it more keenly than anyone. She needs to move on, meet
new people and have a fresh start. I fear that this house is sending her to an early grave.

‘What will you do?’ Mum asks worriedly, bringing me back to the present. ‘Where will you live?’

‘I don’t know yet, but I’ll find something.’

As it turns out, I’m far too busy in the next six weeks to do much of anything other than deal with the house sale. We get a cash buyer quickly who wants to move in
without delay and I’m overcome with déjà vu as I begin to pack. Mum can’t do much – she’s grown more frail over the last year – so I crack on with most
of the work alone, although Judy, bless her, sometimes comes over to help. Mr Templeton passed away two years ago – Angus, who was pretty cut up at the time, fretted about his mum living on
her own in that big house – but earlier this year, Judy made the decision to downsize, and luckily, she didn’t move far.

As before, Eliza offers no help, but this time I’m thankful. It upsets Mum that we’re still not speaking, and Phoebe would hate it, but she’s not here to do anything about
it.

I’ve been helping out Mrs Dryden, an elderly lady from down the street who had a hip operation a couple of months ago. Her Staffordshire Terrier, Bicky, needs walking, and usually we go to
the local park. Today, though, I need to pick up a few groceries, so I head into Sale town centre, praying Bicky won’t want to do her business on the pavement. The last time that happened, a
good-looking guy was approaching and I had to pooper-scoop in front of him.

I’ve heard that the boarded-up shop around the corner from the Town Hall has reopened as an artisan bakery, so I decide to go and have a nose around. There’s a stylish, modern,
pale-green and grey sign jutting out from the red brickwork with the name
Jennifer’s
painted on it. In the window, various fancy breads lie stacked in old-fashioned wooden boxes, and
colourful cupcakes are piled high on the counter.

A couple of those would go down nicely for tea. We exchanged on the house today, but the feeling is bittersweet and Mum and I could do with a pick-me-up, if not a celebration.

‘The dog has to stay outside,’ the man behind the counter says the moment I push through the swing door.

‘Oh, okay.’

I go back outside and tie Bicky to the lamppost.

‘What can I get you?’ he asks when I return. He’s about six foot tall and heavy-set with thick eyebrows, greying hair and dark-brown eyes. He has a cockney accent, so
it’s a pretty safe guess that he’s not from around here.

‘Two cupcakes, please. One chocolate and one vanilla.’

He gets out a box while I scan the interior. The pale-green and grey colour scheme continues inside, with white accents on the skirting boards, windowsills and furniture. There’s a small
seated section at the back where a couple of people are sitting at a table, drinking coffee.

‘Anything else?’ the man asks.

‘Um, maybe a loaf of bread,’ I reply, turning back to him. The door opens and three women come in, two with prams.

‘Which one?’ he asks as they stand behind me, chatting noisily.

‘I usually go for a boring wholegrain, but there’s so much to choose from. What do you recommend?’

‘Is it a special occasion? Or are you just planning to slice it up for sandwiches? Toby!’ he yells before I can answer.

‘Not for a special occasion, exactly,’ I reply as the door behind him opens and a sullen-looking guy saunters out. He has a likeness to the man with the same dark hair and eyes,
although he’s a darn sight better looking.

‘See to these customers,’ the man barks, returning his attention to me.

‘But it’d be nice to try something different,’ I finish.

‘Walnut and raisin bread? Goes well with cheese.’

‘That sounds lovely, I’ll give it a shot.’ I look around again. ‘This is a great place. When did you open?’

‘Last week,’ he says.

‘Have you moved up from London?’

‘Er, yes. Accent give me away, did it?’

I smile. ‘Just a bit. I used to work in Highgate,’ I tell him.

‘The posh part,’ he says with a knowing look.

‘The area where I worked wasn’t particularly posh,’ I feel compelled to point out. ‘It was closer to Archway. The Whittington Hospital. I’m a nurse.’

He looks away abruptly and I feel a bit silly for divulging all that information as he interrupts the discussion going on beside us. ‘We’re out of the rosemary and potato bread, you
doofus. I told you to do a stock take,’ he adds, before tutting at me. ‘You’re not looking for a change of career, are you? This one here is hopeless.’

I shrug. ‘I am actually looking for a job, if you’ve got anything going.’

The man narrows his eyes at me. ‘I thought you said you were a nurse.’

‘I was, but I’m taking a break. I’ve been looking after my mum, but she’s moving to a one-bedroom bungalow soon.’

‘Couldn’t cope with her, hey?’

His son – if that’s who he is – shoots him a look of, ‘
You can’t say that!
’

‘It’s her choice,’ I reply, too diverted by Toby’s comical expression to be annoyed. ‘I think she wants her independence back,’ I joke. ‘She’d
rather be around people her own age.’

The man looks amused. ‘Have you worked in a bakery before?’ he asks.

‘No, but I had a summer job at a café when I was a teenager,’ I tell him. ‘And I’m a fast learner.’

‘You’re serious? You want a job?’

‘Yes, seriously.’

Toby leans his elbows on the counter and regards me.

‘Get your elbows off the work surfaces, for God’s sake,’ the man berates him. ‘What’s your name?’ he asks me.

‘Rose. Rose Thomson.’

‘I’m Gavin, this is my son, Toby, and it just so happens our last girl was useless and got the nudge yesterday, so you can start tomorrow, if you like?’

‘Really?’ My eyes light up.

‘Yep. Be here at seven a.m.’

That’s early. ‘Wow! Okay, I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘Oh, and you’d better clean that up.’ He nods out of the window at Bicky, who’s currently squatting on the pavement.

‘Shit,’ I curse, my face going bright red.

‘You got that right,’ Toby says drily.

Judy is at ours when I get home. She gets up to give me a hug. ‘Hello, Rose,’ she says. ‘How are you?’

‘Gutted that I didn’t get another cupcake,’ I reply with a smile, opening up the box to show them.

‘Ooh,’ Judy coos.

‘We can share,’ I say. ‘They’re enormous.’

‘Where did you get them from?’ Mum asks.

‘That new bakery around the corner from the Town Hall and guess what!’ I beam at them.

‘What?’ Judy and Mum ask in unison.

‘I got a job there! I start tomorrow morning!’

There’s a long pause where nobody says anything.

‘That’s wonderful,’ Judy says eventually, although you’d hardly believe her from the lack of enthusiasm in her voice.

‘But what about your nursing?’ Mum asks, not even bothering to hide her disappointment.

‘I told you, I need a break. A change will do me good.’

‘But Rose—’

‘I’m not talking about forever. It will be good to have a summer job while I decide what I want to do. All I need now is somewhere to live and I’ll be sorted.’