Amelia's Story (Box Set the Complete Series Books 1 & 2) (22 page)

Greece was a lovely holiday, we went skinny dipping late at night; we rode all around the peninsula from one end to the other on that little moped. We frequented a few bars and met some wonderful people. We were even offered holiday jobs by one bar owner we had got to know quite well. He had said that if ever we wanted a working holiday then we should just let him know. He gave us his phone number in case we’d ever take him up on his offer. The time soon arrived for us to head off back to England. I felt so sad. This had been the most amazing time of my life. I loved Greece. This just further increased my need to travel and see the world.

I felt free in
Greece. There we didn’t live by the clock at all; we rose when we rose; and slept when we were tired! Life was so laid back in Europe. The locals would sit outside the tavern’s playing chess and drinking coffee. Groups of teenagers on a package holiday would gather on the beaches to play volleyball, or hop in a pedalo out to sea! Peter and I favoured the private coves and zooming around on our hired moped. I was going to miss Greece a lot, and made a mental note to visit more of the Greek Islands.

We were picked up from the airport by Peter’s brother, tanned, broke, and in need of a new place to live. We had literally a couple of days to pack up and leave the apartment. I spent the majority of those two days crying and packing. Peter had popped to the pub to catch up with his friends the one night, and on his return advised me he had some good news. He had found us somewhere to stay, but it was very short term until we could find and rent a place of our own. One of the local businessmen in the village had offered us a room to rent in his house. So for the next month or so we lived in this house; but we were not happy. We were craving our own space once more.

It soon became apparent that our new-found living arrangements just weren’t working for us. So Peter went cap in hand to his parents asking them if we could move in with them until we found somewhere else to rent of our own. Thankfully, they were not at all hesitant. They were lovely about it, and within a few days we were moving once again to a more familiar and comfortable home. Living with Peter’s parents was not so bad. They were very accommodating and all they asked was that we respect the rules of the house, which was perfectly understandable. It was not until many years later when I became a mother that I truly understood how remarkable his parents were. Not only did they accept us living together at such a young age, they never discouraged us or told us we were too young. They were there for us; they stood by us no matter what.

In my opinion Peter’s parents made a huge sacrifice, as it’s not easy having your child’s partner living with you. I see that now, I understand what great lengths they went to for us. They treated me as if I was one of their own. I will always be grateful to them for that. I will always respect them for what they did for me. They were truly one in a million. They looked out for me, listened to me when I was sad and in need of someone to talk to. I eventually confided in Peter’s m
um about my past, my demons, and my occasional visitor, “My nemesis.” She was so understanding. We bonded further, and a great friendship was formed. Olivia was a remarkable woman, friend and confident.

Drifting apart

(Amelia aged 22, photographic studios in London)

I had noticed a shift in my relationship with Peter; we had been living with his parents for almost six months. Peter was going out more with his friends, and we were doing a great deal more separately. My confidence was weakening and his was increasing. It was not long before we were often arguing and falling out with each other. By then, we had been together for almost two years, and our relationship was in desperate need of TLC.

My heart was feeling the pain at the loss of the closeness I once shared with Peter. I could almost feel him slipping away and I felt there was nothing I could do to prevent it. We had been so young when we got together. Peter was just 17
-years-old and I was 20. So young for such a serious relationship, neither of us had realised that we would eventually grow out of each other. When you are that young and in love you think you will be together forever, and no one can tell you any differently. All you know is what you feel at the time; logic came into nothing. It was all about your feelings. Sometimes I felt as if my heart was far too big for me to cope with.

Peter had reached 19, and I was 22. I was totally reliant on him for everything, I had moved to
Birmingham to live with him; I had gained a wonderful new family – his. One of my closest friends was his lovely cousin, Petra, who conveniently lived just around the corner. All my new friends were his friend’s girlfriends. I was very aware that if we were to end our relationship I would lose not just a boyfriend, I would lose my friends, my newly found family, my home, and my social life. This was a very small village. I would have to move away and start again with practically nothing but a broken heart. I could not bear the thought of that knowledge. It visited me often.

I felt desperate and alone with my thoughts. I was facing a reality I could not change
, I knew it was coming; it was just a matter of when. I did my best to push negative thoughts to the back of my mind, in the hope that I was just being a touch paranoid. One weekend a group of us, mostly couples, decided to head to the Belfry Golf Course in Warwickshire. The country club had a very popular nightclub often attended by the rich and wealthy of the region. Many teenagers could be seen being dropped off in limos. This was a place we frequented often, as it was not too far away from the village.

As we entered
the night club I heard Peter scream out, “Look who’s over there, it’s only Damian Atkins! Did you see that amazing goal he scored in Aston Villa’s last game?”

My heart stopped for a brief moment, I couldn’t believe it. While Peter and his friends were cooing over Aston Villa’s football players I just looked straight ahead to see if I could catch a glimpse of Dami
an. I had never felt so nervous in my entire life. As I glanced in Damian’s direction I could see him looking directly at me. We both smiled and we walked towards each other.

“Hey there you, long time no see, you look great,” said Dami
an.

“Hiya, you. Wow
, what were the chances of us bumping into one another here?” I replied nervously.

At that moment Peter and his friends surrounded us! They were all very excited, and Peter’s friends could not believe I knew Dami
an, as I had never mentioned it before.

I introduced Peter to Dami
an and they shook hands like gentleman. Damian turned around to Peter and said,

“Make sure you look after Amelia. She is one in a million, Peter.”

Peter nodded and promised he would take care of me. Damian and I just looked at each other for a very long time. At the time I didn’t really understand what had happened to us previously. I smiled at Damian as he turned and headed towards the dance floor with his footballer friends. Our eyes met several times that night, and I felt sadness in my heart. I could not explain why at the time. I had missed Damian more than I had realised. However, our lives had moved on, and I was with Peter now. I was in love with Peter, but I just did not feel secure with him.

That night amongst Peter’s friends I was a bit of a legend, as Dami
an was an Aston Villa star and the hero of the moment for the team and big news in the press nationally! All Peter’s friends were Villa fans. That chance meeting with Damian at the Belfry Country Club seemed to strengthen my relationship with Peter. I believe it knocked his confidence a little. However, I will be honest. For me it kept Damian in my thoughts for a long time afterwards, as I always felt as if our time together had been interrupted. I always felt as if we had unfinished business. But I was a complete romantic who believed in happy endings, even though I had not found mine yet. I wanted to ask him that night, why he had just gone off and met someone else. Why he just didn’t tell me himself. Instead, I had to hear it from his friend. However, it was a long time ago, and I thought better of it. We had both moved on with our lives.

For a while I felt confident again in my relationship. Peter was once again attentive and thoughtful, like he had always been before we stumbled into a rut. Our relationship cruised along at full throttle for another 18 months. We both had lots of fun, many weekends away and many unforgettable nights out with our friends. However, it was not to last. I found a beautiful two-
bedroom flat for rent in the village with immediate effect. I was so excited I agreed to take on the flat at just £50 pounds per week – an absolute bargain. I could not get home fast enough from work that day. I ran into the house with my news, fully expecting Peter to be just as happy as I was. Alas, this was not the case at all; his response was of surprise and reluctance. I could see immediately that he was not taken with the idea at all.

My heart sank, the tears welled up in my eyes, I feared the worst, and then a delayed smiled appeared across his face.

“Great Amelia, really, just great,” he replied.

I was not very convinced, but I didn’t question Peter’s reluctance. I was far too afraid of the outcome of such a conversation. I certainly would not have been able to deal with it.

Over the next few days we moved into our new very spacious flat. I was so excited, I truly believed it would reignite our failing relationship, and for a while it did. We settled in well, had many friends over for dinner and the occasional party. However, I noticed Peter was not as attentive as he had once been, he was spending longer at work, and he started popping in on his days off, which he had never done before. He was going out more often with work colleagues, and not coming home until the next day. I knew in my heart of hearts something was wrong. I knew I had to face the reality of what was going on. I could no longer close my eyes to it. I confronted Peter about his feelings and I was met with indifference. I was made to feel ridiculous and paranoid. He did nothing to convince me otherwise.

Following our heart
-to-heart, I grew very suspicious. One day while Peter was out playing football I decided to go through his briefcase. I truly wished I hadn’t. I found an A4 note pad; there was a long hand-written poem in it. As I read the beautiful poem to myself it soon became apparent that it was not meant for me. My heart was instantly broken, shattered into a million pieces. The poem referred to a beautiful girl at his office. This explained so many things to me, but most of all that we were over. I felt sick. I held the poem in my hand and read it over and over again, hoping it would say something different to me, but it didn’t. I could not ignore what I had found, as devastated as I was. As heartbroken as I was. I couldn’t stay with someone knowing they were no longer in love with me, and knowing they had feelings for someone else.

That same day I confronted Peter with my findings. He couldn’t deny it. He looked away. Then told me he was leaving me and that he was no longer in love with me. He confessed that he had fallen in love with someone else. There are not any words to describe my devastation at that moment. I watched as he gathered his things silently and walk out of the door, just like that. I sat with my arms wrapped around my knees against the wall. Then I found myself begging him not to go, I pleaded with him to give us one last chance, but my pleas fell on deaf ears. His mind was made up. After four and a half years it was over. I also knew I had lost so much more that day. That’s what I was having difficulty accepting.

I fell to the floor. It was as if I had been thrust into a bad dream from which I would wake up any minute. But this was not a bad dream at all; this was my reality. I cried for hours, I lay on the floor clutching a batch of love letters I had received from Peter many years before. The saddest discovery for me was that Peter had chosen to leave all his love letters and cards from me behind. I remember thinking, why did people find it so easy to erase people they once loved from their lives, as if they had never existed?

Peter may not have loved me any more, but my feelings had not changed at all. Over the next couple of days it soon became very apparent that everyone else had known. I had been the very last person to find out. I knew I had lost everything. I would have to give up the flat; there was no way I could afford to run it by myself. I immediately lost a family, his family, not to mention my friends, who ultimately were his best friends’ girlfriends. Now, Peter would be introducing a new woman into his circle. There was no room for me anymore.

It was especially hard for me at the time, because I did not just lose a boyfriend, I lost the flat, I was pushed out of my social circle, and I had to start all over again. But not before I had a small breakdown. I was so vulnerable, still finding my way in the world, and I depended on Peter far too much. We were both so young, and our relationship was very intense. We both needed to live a bit before we settled down, but at the time I did not see this. Peter had just simply moved on; he had changed his mind; he no longer wanted to commit to living with someone. He had met someone else and he just wanted to have fun and go on holiday with his friends and have a good time.

It was just far easier for him, because he only had to give me up. I on the other hand had to lose just about everything I had. It seemed so unfair to me. I couldn’t take in the fact that he no longer loved me. After four years of true romance, love letters, and even drawings he had sketched of me, all the dreams we shared. Yet he had simply fallen out of love with me. Once again I was confused. Was this yet another test by “Him upstairs?” Had I not been through enough? Why was it when someone decided they no longer wanted me in their life, I was the one that ha
d to lose everything. I was the one that always suffered. That’s how it seemed to me at that time, because that was all the experience I could draw on.