The Summer We Loved Read online

  “Will she?”

  “Of course she will. Who couldn’t love you?”

  He watched as her eyes fell and he realised he had said too much… or too little. She pulled away. What could he say to her? “What would you say to your sister if you could speak to her?” he asked.

  “I would tell her how much I love her and how sorry I am for hurting her. I would explain everything and beg her to forgive me.”

  Pete was floored. “Then tell her. You have to talk to her, Jen. Tell her how you feel and that you love her and that you wish everything had been so different, that she could have known you in a better time; a better you. Tell her you’re sorry for everything you’ve put her through and that if she can forgive you, you would be so grateful to be a part of her life again.” His voice trailed away and they sat looking into each other’s eyes. The words he had wanted to say had finally been released. He rested back in his seat. “Or something like that.” For a moment, he was unable to hold onto her gaze, too painful to see the defeat in her eyes, but then he made himself. “Write her a letter, Jen.”

  Jenny picked up her drink and sipped at it and Pete could see that her hand was trembling. He had been a fool, such a fool; he didn’t deserve her anyway.

  The food arrived and he was thankful for the diversion. Jenny looked up at him quizzically as she started to eat.

  “What?” he asked, smiling gently at her.

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “Come on. Out with it.”

  “I was just thinking how different you are to the man I thought I knew.”

  To the man he thought he knew. But he was changing and it was because of her. “Is that good or bad?” he asked.

  She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I think it’s good. Although… I’m a little more cautious of hoping to influence anyone at the moment.”

  He smiled. “You’ve changed me, Jen.”

  “Have I? I don’t think so. Besides, there’s not much point in change if it’s only fleeting.”

  What did she mean by that? Was she saying she didn’t think he really had changed? Maybe she didn’t, but he had. He fell silent.

  “Do you think you’ll be ready to do the exam on Monday?” she asked after a few windswept moments had passed between them.

  He nodded. “As I’ll ever be.”

  “I’m going on holiday at the weekend, so you’re on your own now. Don’t let me down, Peter Florin, will you?”

  The rest of what passed for their dinner was a stilted attempt at ease. At the end of the night, Pete couldn’t bear her to leave him, yet she seemed to have no more will to stay. This was not what he had hoped for. But maybe it was what he deserved.

  Melt away as it must, he was sorry to see her walk away that night and it was the final nail in his coffin that she didn’t look back.

  The following evening, just as Pete was leaving work, his brother called. He wanted to see him, to wish him luck before his exam on Monday. So Pete got a takeaway and got back to his flat about half an hour before James was expected.

  Rachel was with him when he arrived, which was a surprise for Pete. Excitedly, he looked around for his nephew and niece. “My mum’s looking after them,” Rachel told him. We’re on a sneaky weekend away.”

  His face fell.

  “You’re welcome to come over as soon as your exams are through and see them…” his brother added with a smile. “But for tonight we are kid-free!”

  “And you’re wasting it here with me?” he asked in horror, disappointed not to have had a bit of playtime with the kids.

  “Oh, we’re not stopping long,” James told him, winking at Rachel and making her blush. “Can we come in?”

  “Of course. Come on through.” He opened the door and let them inside. “I’ve got an Indian keeping warm in the oven.”

  “Then we’d better let him out!” James replied; an age-old tradition between them. They laughed and then James looked at his wife. “Well it would be a shame to waste it.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes at the two hopeful faces looking at her, imploring her to stay. “Go on, then.”

  They dished up, pulled a couple of cold beers out of the fridge (allowable under Jenny’s revised regime that he stuck to even now) and sat down.

  “So, how’s it going, then?” James asked him.

  “Good, yeah.” He put another forkful of chicken bhuna in his mouth and tore off some naan. “Need to give everything another once-over this weekend, but it’s been going pretty well. So, a whole weekend without the kids? What are you two going to do with yourselves? Or shouldn’t I ask?”

  James and Rachel smiled at one another. “We’re too bloody tired for any of that. You make the most of it while you can, big brother. Tonight we’re planning on a crazy debauched night of uninterrupted sleeping.”

  Pete laughed, but he was unable to muster the humour he’d had before.

  “What’s the matter, mate? No one keeping you warm at night at the moment? You must be slipping.”

  Rachel thumped her husband playfully.

  Pete made a small, sad laugh. “Afraid not.”

  James and Rachel exchanged looks.

  “What?” Pete asked, sensing some kind of conspiracy brewing.

  “Whatever happened to that nice girl who came to look for you?” James asked, but his pretence of innocence was abysmal.

  “Jenny, you mean.”

  “Yeah, that’s the girl. It’s not going anywhere with her, then?” Reaching forward, James took a poppadum from the plate on the coffee table and took a bite, before casually looking back toward Pete.

  “No.” Pete could see what his brother was up to and he didn’t want to play.

  “That’s a shame; she seemed nice. Got some hot blonde instead, have you?”

  “No.” He wasn’t enjoying this line of questioning. “I’m too blooming busy studying. I thought that was what you wanted?”

  “Absolutely.” James took a swig of his beer. “Still… I did think the pair of you had a… well, a bit of a… What’s the word?” He turned to his wife.

  “A connection.”

  “That’s it, a connection.”

  Pete paused with his chewing and looked at them both. He swallowed his food. “Okay, what is this? What’s with the sudden third degree about Jenny?”

  “Third degree? That’s a bit harsh. We only wanted-”

  “She was good for you,” Rachel butted in. “She took it on herself to travel across the country to hunt you down. You don’t do that on a whim.”

  Pete slowly blinked his eyes and lifted his chin.

  “She cares about you, Pete. Or at least she did do, unless you’ve managed to balls it all up already. And it has only been a few weeks.”

  Pete’s brow creased.

  “You haven’t!?”

  Pete pulled a hopeless smile, mocking himself, and then let the smile drop.

  Rachel shook her head. “What are we going to do with you, Peter Florin?”

  “She was too good for me, anyway,” he added.

  “Darn right she was! But that girl took care of you. She even bunked off work for you and she didn’t seem like the bunking type to me,” Rachel told him.

  Pete looked up.

  “You didn’t know that, did you? Yes. She was meant to have been in work on the day she took you home. She was all set to leave us when we finally found you. She didn’t have to do any of that for you. And, according to James, she’s been baking for you and helping you work ever since. You don’t do that for a guy for no reason.”

  Pete shot his brother a dark look. They were trying to say that Jenny had real feelings for him. Or, at least, had done. Way to stick the knife in! He thought back over their time together: every touch, every kiss, every look. She really had loved him, hadn’t she? It seemed like the most obvious thing in the world to him now. But he had realised it too late and let another woman come between them.

  No, that wasn’t right. It had been the thought of such l
ove that had made him afraid. When he had needed someone she had been there for him, but when she had needed him the most, he had let her down. He set his fork down on his plate and put it down on the table, his appetite gone.

  “Still, I’m sure you could always win her back if you wanted.”

  Pete looked up. “I don’t think so.”

  An awkward silence fell across them as each one seemed to consider what an idiot he had been. “Where are you two off to, then?” Pete asked, trying hard to focus on something else for a while.

  “We’ve got a hotel booked in Duxley for the night and then we’re off for a decadent stay at a swanky hotel in North Devon. Five stars, four-poster bed, full board, the lot.”

  His visitors finished their meals and rested back for a while chatting.

  “Right then, push off you two. Some of us have got studying to do,” Pete told them and they made their way to the front door.

  “You’re looking good,” James told him. “Whatever it is you’re doing, keep doing it. And good luck with the exam on Monday. We’ll be thinking of you.”

  “Will you hell!” Pete smiled.

  “We will on Monday. We’ll be back to the grindstone again by then.”

  He gave his brother a slap on the back. “Have a good time.”

  Rachel moved up to stand in front of Pete. “Feelings like that don’t just disappear, Pete. That girl loved you. Don’t let her get away.” She hugged him and then the two headed off on their adventure.

  Pete closed the door behind them. Jenny probably had loved him, he realised that now, but he was never going to be the right man for her. If she was his sister, he wouldn’t let her date him. Not until he could prove to himself that he was worth it, and he couldn’t. He had never been able to keep safe the ones he loved. He had failed his mother and he had failed Ali and each time the pain of it had near-killed him.

  Jenny had thought a lot about the idea of writing to her sister, going over it in her head to find the words that sounded best. She didn’t want to come across as selfish, because she really wasn’t, not any more. She just wanted to offer an olive branch, a big one, in the hope that Lizzy would take it.

  So she wrote and she made certain to post it as she left for the airport for her week away, learning about writing in the far corner of France.

  A whole week of peace and quiet and a real writer on hand to give her some help. She needed this. She needed some time alone to concentrate on something other than herself and everything she’d done wrong. Life could be far too busy and complicated at times. It was lonely, waiting to be loved. She wanted to create something. Something to help her through the days of muck and toil, to fill her mind with another universe and keep her occupied until he left again.

  Tickets? Check. Passport? Check. Money?

  Jenny fished around in her bag for the umpteenth time to make sure she had everything she needed. Keys, instructions, invoice. Stepping out of the taxi, she looked up at the airport entrance in front of her and felt a large weight lift from her shoulders.

  Not having travelled for years, she found check-in fascinating and, waiting for her flight, she watched as aeroplanes taxied around the tarmac and roared up past her, on take-off. She was on her own and she was excited.

  Sitting in her seat, she fiddled with the contents of the pocket in front of her. There was a sick bag – always a possibility – and an instruction sheet on the use of inflight services. She read the lists to see what movies, if any, they were going to be showing that day. None. Well what had she expected? It was a cheap flight and a short one. She noted the emergency exits, although if the plane was going down, she rather doubted she would be thinking clearly enough to remember them.

  Jenny fished out her book and rested it in her lap. She looked around her. All life was here. People of all shapes and sizes herding into a tin can to fly across the sea and start a new adventure. She supposed some of them had already had their adventure and were returning home. She rested her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. She was changing, she could feel it. She was very aware of the importance of this trip and although sense should have made her terrified, her overriding feeling was one of release. She took a deep breath of the cool, dry air and opened her eyes again.

  A woman approached her and excused herself to sit down on the seat beside the window. “Actually, you wouldn’t mind swapping, would you?” she said. “Only I’m not great at flying and I don’t think being able to see just how far up we are is going to help me.”

  “Of course. If you’re sure?” Jenny said and moved across, pleased to be getting a view.

  The woman held out her hand. “Helen Sinclair,” she said.

  “Jenny White.”

  “First time flying?”

  “First time on my own.”

  “An adventure, then?” the woman asked.

  “Yes. I think so.”

  “Good for you.”

  As the plane began to taxi for take-off, Jenny dug her fingers into the seat. It was like a rollercoaster ride, from what she remembered. Exciting and wonderful, yet a little terrifying too.

  She was pleased that the woman next to her seemed happy to leave their conversation at that for the time being, setting her free to wander around the pathways of her mind. There were so many dark corners to visit there and she had a whole week alone to do it.

  She hadn’t told the girls why she was going, embarrassed perhaps. She just told them she was visiting an old friend, which she was in a way. She had loved writing from an early age and her diary was probably her best friend now. Nursing was her calling in life, but writing was… What was it? Her passion.

  She was nervous that now she had finally decided to do something about it, she wouldn’t be able to write. Surely she should have some idea of what she wanted to do while she was out there, but in all honesty, she couldn’t think of where to start. She just hoped her tutor would know what to do with her. If she found her, that was. But today’s worries were enough for today, tomorrow’s would have to wait for tomorrow.

  As the approach for landing was announced, Jenny stowed her book back in her bag and turned to the woman beside her. The woman was sleeping. Jenny touched her gently on the arm and woke her up. “We’re coming into land,” she said and the woman smiled and thanked her.

  As the flow of noisy holiday-makers bustled her forward through the terminal, Jenny found herself at baggage reclaim and stood there waiting to spot her purple case. She waited while the muffled sounds of distant announcements and 300 different conversations all combined into a cloud of noise. And finally they started to appear.

  At last, with passport and handbag in one hand and her case being pulled by the other, Jenny arrived at the gateway, with a sea of faces set before her. She stopped a short way off and looked at the instructions on her piece of paper. “Under the clock.” Jenny looked around for any clock on the wall and after a few sweeps of the building, she spotted one over the far side of the terminal. Relief.

  Pulling the case along the smooth, polished floor, she headed in that direction and right underneath it she saw a woman, possibly in her fifties, searching the masses before her.

  Jenny smiled and quickened her pace and the woman noticed her.

  “Are you Briony?” Jenny asked.

  “I am, and you are?”

  She held out her hand. “I’m Jenny White,” she said.

  Jenny could feel the tide of her life changing. She was moving on. Things were only going to get better, because from here on in, she was determined to set herself free.

  Chapter 14

  Pete was working hard, harder than he had worked in years. The thought that work was finally saving him was a strange one, but it kept his mind busy and helped him deal with the empty space left by Jenny. He missed her, though he dared not admit it. He was torn apart by the sight of her walking away from him and, riddled with guilt that he only had himself to blame. He had been a coward.

  But passing his exam was som
ething he could do, to show her that he was grateful for everything she had done for him. He hadn’t heard from her in a few days and he doubted he was going to until Monday. On Monday she might ring. He couldn’t remember if she’d told him where she was going, but if she could ring him, then, he thought, she probably would.

  He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Monday: the day of reckoning. He had to work as hard as he could until then, but as soon as Monday was over, he had made up his mind to make things better for Jenny. Until then, he thought, and he opened another textbook and turned to the index.

  Jenny was riding down the country roads, away from the hustle and bustle of the urban streets, in the back of an old green Citroën Picasso with two other hopeful writers. Their mentor, Briony Withers - multi-award-winning novelist and screen writer - was driving, as she tried to engage them all in conversation, but they seemed a little star-struck and it was awkward trying to get it going. Jenny leant her arm on the window edge and breathed in the warm country air. The view was a world away from her little town in England, it was big, wide and colourful and, in her eyes, exotic. She relaxed. For this one week, life was going to be good, she thought.

  As the roads became narrower and the hills rose up around her, they slowed to a crawl down a long country lane. A beautiful old barn stood at the end. It had been converted into a house, its stone walls grey and solid, giving it a sense of permanence and tranquillity.

  “Here we are,” said Briony and they stepped out of the car. Jenny felt the soft, warm, evening sun touch her face as she breathed in the flowery scent of her surroundings. She looked around her. The building was tucked away behind high hedges and ancient trees, but the garden around it was awash with colour. Brilliant spurs of buddleia treated the breeze to a hint of honey, while clematis of all colours trailed their merry way up the side of the barn and pergola beyond. The sound of cattle lowing in the distance and the buzzing of the bees were all there was to trouble the peace of the still, late-summer’s day.