This is a Love Story (47 page)

‘Thanks,’ I said.

‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ she asked.

To help. All I wanted was my father back. Even if he was asleep. I just wanted to watch him snoozing like I used to. To make

him dinner, listening to his ramblings about whatever world topic it was he was studying, read to him. I wish I’d been there to catch

him when he fell. If I’d just come home earlier . . .

I’d been dreaming about it, dreams that made me sweat and tremble. Night terrors. In my dreams, Ant told me I could leave early.

I got home and Dad and I were both standing in the kitchen together, laughing and joking as usual. Then, when he fell, I spotted it

and tried to catch him, cupping my arms under his back. But he was too heavy for me, I wasn’t strong enough, and he hit the floor

and disappeared. I started looking for him, on my hands and knees, grabbing at the floor to try and find him. But he was gone. I’d

woken up twice now, scrabbling at the mattress, looking for my father.

What could Elouise do apart from stay in my life? She couldn’t bring him back.

But I hoped she would never disappear like he had. Never be taken away from me. But there were no guarantees any more. Life

was fragile, temporary. It scared me.

‘Can we have a Disney night?’ I asked.

She laughed a little before realising I was serious. ‘Well, yes, of course we can. I’ll come over with wine and takeaway and we

can watch Disney all night if you like.’ She brushed her fringe from her blotchy face and smiled.

‘Yes please,’ I said.

‘How about tomorrow?’ she asked.

So that’s what we did. Nick, Elouise and I. We sat together on the sofa, Elouise to my left, Nick to my right. We watched Lady

and the Tramp, The Little Mermaid and The Lion King all in one sitting. And we drank wine like it flowed from the kitchen taps.

I’m not sure why I asked for Disney, but something about it was so comforting at the time. It made the world seem better. Sometimes

I didn’t even have the energy to open the door to my friends.

We ran out of milk one day and I tried to go to the shop, but I felt so overwhelmed by the fresh air and the loudness of it all I

couldn’t cope, so I came back inside. It was a fortnight that felt like a month, maybe a year. A jumble of almost callous and torturous

timelessness where three in the morning might as well have been lunchtime.

On the fourth night it really caught up with me. I’d finally drifted off when the nightmare struck and woke me up within a few

minutes. I was so disturbed it made me tremble. Nick was sleeping soundly in his room; I could hear his breathing from across the

hallway. I tried to focus on that, but it wasn’t helping the pressure in my chest that was getting tighter and tighter. Rather than lying

there and trying to calm myself down, I woke him. I just couldn’t get through the night without him.

‘Nick, Nick,’ I whispered as I prodded his arm gently. I felt like a lunatic.

‘Eh?’ he said sleepily as he woke up, rubbing his fists in his eyes. ‘Si, what’s wrong?’ There was panic in his voice.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ I mumbled as I began to cry again, sitting on the side of his bed and feeling like a fool. ‘I just can’t cope. I

don’t know how I’m ever going to get through this,’ I choked, pulling my vest down over my knees to protect myself from the

humiliation of this moment.

He sat up and pulled me towards him by wrapping his arms around my waist. I felt light as a feather. He started stroking my hair.

That was all I needed. Almost straight away I felt the anxiety rushing away from me.

‘I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t wake you,’ I said, trying to see the alarm clock through the murk of his room. It was 3 a.m. I could

feel him, his body perfect under a soft, crinkled T-shirt. I was so embarrassed, but totally unable to get through the night without

him.

‘Shh, Sienna, never apologise. You know that I’d do anything for you,’ he said in his deep voice.

I held on to him even tighter now. I thought about how much I loved him. How deep it ran. How it was more than the heady lust

I’d often experienced – something much more powerful. Deeper than the pain I was feeling, and the lake of tears I’d cried. I

immersed myself in his love. It was healing me . . . I realised I was now lying down next to him and he had both his arms around

me. I was stroking the hair on his right forearm.

‘Sienna,’ he said, just as I was finally drifting off in my state of emotional exhaustion.

‘Yes.’

‘You know I’m never going to leave you, don’t you?’

There was quiet. ‘What do you mean, Nick?’

‘I just . . . er, I’ll always be a part of your life, in whatever way. I’m never going to just go,’ he said in a whisper.

But how did he know? How could anyone promise that? I said nothing and drifted into sleep.

Somehow, by the end of a fortnight I was feeling a lot better. These things take a long time to heal – years, in fact – and I know

that even when I’m an old lady, I’ll look back on these days and feel something tremendous wash over me, although I don’t know

what it is yet. But slowly I came round. I started cleaning the house when Nick was at work. I had to pull myself out of this misery.

It made me feel better. I scrubbed taps, vacuumed the floor to within an inch of its life, I even dusted the ceilings.

And I started making elaborate meals for him, involving exotic spices and giant prawns, things I’d never tried before. I was finally

able to venture outside and I started going to Borough Market where I could buy all manner of exciting ingredients. I smelled them, I

touched them, taking in all the textures and colours. I had to be strong, and somehow I found some kind of solace in this crazy

marketplace with all its bustle and vibrancy. There was something new and exciting there. The stallholders measured things and

sliced them and poured them into little boxes and wrapped them in paper. I loved it.

On Friday afternoon, the door went again. Nick wasn’t in. I saw a tall male figure through the frosted glass but I didn’t know who

on earth it could be. I slid the chain over and opened it partially, just to be sure.

It was Pete. I’d had no idea he knew where to find me or why I was there. In fact, I’d assumed he would never want to see me

again. He looked so much better – it was a shock, actually, but in a good way. I couldn’t understand this. It was so confusing. I

thought he hated me since I’d brought Laura to the park and it had all gone so wrong. I hadn’t seen him or heard from him since . . .

As I peered through the gap I could immediately see he’d put on some weight, and he was even wearing a shirt. His skin looked

good. Wow. He had a big bunch of yellow flowers in his hands, the colour so bright it made me squint. I slid the chain back and

opened the door.

‘Come here,’ he said, cuddling me before I even had the chance to speak. There was something about his hug that told me he was

sorry and scared all at the same time. Scared about how I would react, this time. To be honest, I didn’t have the energy for wild

reactions. And I’d missed him too . . . I was so glad to see him. Despite this, though, something about his past made it even harder to

be around him. His grief had been so destructive and so profound that it had taken him to hell and back. That worried me.

We sat in the living room.

‘Sienna, I’m so sorry,’ he began, putting his face between his hands.

‘Oh, don’t worry, that was ages ago now, Pete . . .’ I replied, feeling a little overwhelmed by all this.

‘No, no. Not just about all that. About your dad,’ he said, with a look of deep regret in his eyes. ‘I had no idea he was ill. I didn’t

know anything, Sienna, and I spoke to you so badly. I was so rude to you.’ He was leaning towards me now, his body language full

of remorse.

‘How did you find out?’ I asked.

‘Nick got hold of me – he contacted the charity and found me.’

‘Nick? But you two have never met . . .’

Pete stumbled over his words as he mumbled something almost unintelligible about plucking up the courage to go back to Balham

and ask people at work where I was.

‘How does Nick know about the charity? I never told him – and I thought you hated the idea of them interfering and didn’t want

anything to do with it?’ I asked, suddenly very puzzled.

‘Oh, er . . . I don’t know. Listen, Si. That day you and Laura came to the park, and I stormed off like a selfish kid . . . Well, you

see, I came back. I turned round after a couple of minutes and saw it was just Laura there. You’d gone, and we got talking, and . . .

well, they helped me.’

I felt a sudden wave of happiness wash over me. I’d had no idea he’d gone back.

‘Gosh. That’s incredible, Pete. I’m so pleased.’ I felt like everything suddenly made sense now. But then I remembered what had

happened with my dad and felt that sadness immediately take over again.

‘I wanted to contact you and tell you, but I was worried you’d never have time for me again after the way I behaved. Then I heard

about this and I just had to find you . . .’

I didn’t know what to say. I was just so glad he was here now. ‘Pete, this feeling, does it ever go away?’ I asked, looking at the

TV, which was on mute. My stomach was empty, but not for lack of food. There was some awful game show on; I’d been watching

it with the sound off before he arrived.

‘Yes and no. You know, I had a very hard time, but I’m not like you. I’m not as strong . . .’ He trailed off, looking ashamed of

himself.

I didn’t know what he meant. He was a man, several years my senior, who’d spent the past few years sleeping on the cold, hard

ground. He was stronger than I would ever be.

‘But you. There’s something very special about you, Sienna, and I just know you’ll take this and turn it into something good.’ He

locked his gaze into mine. I’d forgotten how cold those eyes of his were. How blue.

‘Thanks,’ I said, unsure of what he meant.

‘It never really goes. You’ll think about this for the rest of your life. But I promise, it will get easier. Your feelings will twist and

change, but he’ll never stop bringing you joy because it’s all up here, all those memories.’ He tapped his finger against his temple.

His words were of great comfort to me. But I couldn’t stop the fear from gripping my throat and chest.

‘What’s going on with you, Pete? Are you in a hostel now or something?’ I asked, hoping to concentrate on something more

positive.

He smiled. There was a look on his face I hadn’t seen before. Positivity, I think.

I leaned forward and held his hands.

‘Yes I am, and it’s brilliant, Sienna. I’ve met some really nice people, and I went for a job interview today.’

‘You what?’ I almost jumped off the sofa in sheer delight.

‘Well, yes – they sorted me out an interview with a small private firm in Camden. It’s just an admin role, I don’t think I’ll get it,

but it’s a good start, isn’t it?’

I really hoped he would get it. It would be the start for him; one day he’d be able to live in some kind of comfort again. ‘I’m so

proud of you, Pete. Well done. How do you think it went?’

‘I was stupidly nervous, Si,’ he said, leaning even closer to me and exposing the gaps where his bottom teeth had been.

I giggled for what seemed like the first time in ages. ‘What, as in wee yourself nervous?’ I asked, laughing a bit more.

‘Ha! Not quite, but I was in a right state. I got on the wrong bus and everything because I couldn’t see straight from the fear.’ He

held his hands together now, his fingers intertwined. ‘I just wanted to thank you, Sienna,’ he continued, looking much more serious

now.

‘Oh, don’t thank me. It’s no biggie, Pete. Really. It was all you – it was you who made those choices, it was you who walked

back and talked to Laura. You’re not weak, Pete. You’re something else . . .’

I was so proud of him at that moment. I really meant what I said. Achievement is relative. Whether he got the job or not, he’d

earned more respect from me for climbing out of the gutter than some of the executive high-fliers I’d come across. His

accomplishments so far were his and his alone. No one could ever take that away from him.

‘No, really. I’m not sure I’d be alive if it wasn’t for you.’ He looked really serious now and his eyes had started to water ever so

slightly. ‘To me, Sienna, you’re an angel.’

I felt emotion pulling at my chest again but I tried so hard to hold it in. I looked at the TV once more; it was an ad break, and some

woman was holding a bottle of bleach up to the screen and pointing at it as if it was the answer to all the world’s ills.

I was no angel. If I was an angel I would have saved my father. That’s what angels do.

I changed the subject. ‘Please let me know when you hear about the job. Please?’ I begged him, desperate to know how it went.

‘Of course I will. I also wanted to ask you though . . . When’s the funeral?’

Oh yes. The funeral. It had been a nightmare to organise, and to be honest I was absolutely dreading it because I knew that would

be my final goodbye.

‘It’s on Monday, Pete,’ I said, unable to hold the tears back any more.

Sixteen

Total y in awe of her.

Nick

The church was big and we were small. A modest group of people were scattered across the wooden pews, united by loss, but

divided by fear. There was an ample gap between each and every bottom, family members embarrassed because they had never

been around enough, friends ashamed of their neglect. Crimson cheeks hiding behind their crumpled white tissues. And amongst

those people was a small handful of human beings who had never let Sienna down. They could hold their heads high, safe in the