The Sun in Her Eyes (27 page)

It’s the opposite with my friends back home.

Alicia and I fell pregnant within weeks of each other. She now has a baby girl called Bree who, to my shame, I have seen only a handful of times.

I wasn’t lying to her about my brokering job being demanding, but I definitely overused it as an excuse on the many occasions that she asked to catch up. I’m sure she understood the
real reason for my reluctance, but nevertheless she undoubtedly found it hurtful.

I can’t believe how far I’ve distanced myself, not just from Alicia, but from Josie and Gretchen, too.

Josie, my gorgeous former-flatmate-turned-friend, is now happily married to Craig, the mate whose sofa Ned kipped on when he first moved to London. We introduced them to each other one night at
the Bull & Last after Ned had moved out of Craig’s flat into a house-share in Archway. Ned’s new place was totally rank, but he and I were stupidly delighted because we were only a
fifteen-minute walk away from each other.

We’d barely been apart since our first date – he’d even come out with my friends for my birthday celebrations the night after we slept together. We’d spent the whole day
with each other, too.

When Josie and Craig hooked up, we became a foursome. They’re shortly expecting their first child together.

As for Gretchen, I’ve barely seen her since leaving the school. When she joined a couple of years after me, we almost instantly struck up an easy banter, nipping out to the pub on Friday
lunchtimes and gossiping about everyone and everything. Back then I was full of enthusiasm for teaching. I felt a real connection to my students and it brought me so much joy to see them turning
corners and improving where they never thought they would.

Now Gretchen just reminds me of everything I lost. All of my friends do.

I know this is not fair. What happened was not their fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Do I really in my heart of hearts believe Ned thinks it was mine? Or am I just using culpability
as an excuse to hit out at him? Am I hurting the person I care about most, in order to ultimately hurt myself?

Why the bloody hell would I want to do that?

I think I might need to see a psychiatrist.

I force a smile at Nell and ask how things are going with George. She accepts the change of subject and, as a consequence, the rest of our lunch is far more pleasant.

The next day is Good Friday and Tina has organised another night out in town. I don’t actually feel like a big one – I’ve barely touched a drop since the last
time I got hammered – but we’ll see how long my resolve lasts once I’m safely ensconced in a bar.

I haven’t seen Ethan since Tuesday, but he texted me last night to ask if I was going tonight. I replied and said that I was, and he said that he’d see me there, but I didn’t
experience the thrill I would have felt a week ago. I’m still unsettled about Tina’s revelation, but that’s not just it.

I can’t stop thinking about Ned. How we met… How our relationship developed… How he proposed… And the more I allow myself to dwell on him, the worse I feel about
cheating. Sometimes I feel like I could literally throw up at the thought of what I’ve done.

Yesterday an envelope arrived with a whole bunch of cards inside from Ned’s family, plus cards from Alicia, Gretchen and Josie.

This evening these last three are still sitting in their envelopes on my bedside table, in all their pastel-coloured glory. Who would have thought the sight could seem so threatening?

I know I have a lot of sorting out to do when I go home.

If
I go home.

It would be so much easier to stay.

On impulse I reach for Gretchen’s card and tear open the envelope. I recognise her handwriting.

Wow – she’s leaving! That makes me feel weird and relieved all at the same time. It hurt to think of her at that school without me, even though I had no desire to return. I suddenly
long to sit her down and demand that she give up the goss immediately, just like she used to. I sigh and turn back to my task.

The next card I open is from Alicia, and my heart pinches at the sight of the messy green-paint baby handprint on the left-hand side.

I laugh out loud and tears spring from my eyes. God, I miss her, too. And I
do
want to see Bree, I realise. I want to be a part of her life. Too much time has passed.

Finally, I open Josie’s card.

Bless her. She must be eight months pregnant now, and already on maternity leave. She’s a nurse, so she has a better idea than any of my friends what it’s like to care for a stroke
survivor.

I miss all of them so much. I don’t want to be away when Josie has her baby. I’d like to see Bree grow up. I want to be a bigger part of Gretchen’s life again. We won’t
be working together, but Essex is not far to visit.

I place the three cards on my bedside table and, as I do, I realise there’s a fourth that I haven’t opened. No, actually, it’s a letter, and I note with confusion that it was
sent to me at this address:
Amber Church, c/o Len Church
. Liz must’ve handed it over this morning with the cards from Ned.

I open it up and my heart begins to race.

I put the letter down, my hands shaking. What has she got to tell me? What were my mother’s last words? What will my dad think about all of this? Much as I don’t want to trouble him,
I have to ask.

I read the letter once more and take a moment to gather myself together before going to find him. He’s in the kitchen with Liz, standing at the table.

‘One more time, Len,’ Liz urges firmly.

He grunts and sits back down, looking utterly exhausted.

This is one of his physiotherapy exercises: to stand up and sit back down again. It’s boring as hell – for him and for us – but the key to recovery is repetition, and his leg
is definitely getting stronger.

‘Well done,’ Liz says warmly as she sets the dishwasher going.

‘Hi,’ I say, walking into the room.

Dad offers me a weak smile. I sit down cautiously beside him, placing the letter on the table between us.

He’s shocked when I tell him who it’s from. Liz pulls up a chair to join us as I read the letter aloud. She’s the first one to speak afterwards.

‘Sheesh.’

‘Do you remember her?’ I ask Dad.

He doesn’t respond immediately, but eventually he nods. ‘The police told me about her.’

‘Did you meet her?’

‘No.’

‘Did the policeman tell you what Mum said to her?’

There’s a longer pause before he answers, but again he replies with a negative.

I’m not sure if it’s fatigue, distress or something else entirely that is making him struggle to talk about this. Does he know something that I don’t? Did Mum have a big secret
that she kept from me? From both of us? Perhaps Dad is as clueless as me.

‘Five hundred and sixty-six,’ I say with confidence.

Ned gapes at me in astonishment. ‘How the hell have you done that?’

I grin. ‘Pause it.’

He points the remote control at the telly and
Countdown
freezes on Carol Vorderman’s face, the whiteboard still blank in the background. Bless Josie’s brother for hooking us
up for a free Sky+ trial.

‘Seventy-five minus three is seventy-two, times eight is five hundred and seventy-six. Then you divide the forty by four, take away the ten and you have five hundred and
sixty-six.’

Without another word, he presses play and I watch with amusement as the contestant gets the sum wrong and Carol is forced to take him through it correctly.

‘Jesus Christ, Amber, if you ever want to give up your job as a teacher, Vorderman had better watch out.’

‘That one was easy.’ I shrug, but the look on his face makes me giggle. ‘I told you I was good at maths.’

‘You weren’t lying, you sexy brainiac, now come here and kiss me.’

Still smiling, I do as I’m told, straddling his lap on the sofa.

It’s summer a few months after we met and we’re having a lazy Sunday at home. Josie and Craig have popped out to the shops to pick up a few supplies for lunch, so we won’t be
getting carried away, and anyway, I have something I need to do.

‘Carry on watching telly,’ I suggest after a minute, sliding back into the space beside him and reaching for my laptop.

‘What are you doing?’ he asks with interest.

‘I want to check out some flights back to Australia for Christmas.’

A moment passes when he doesn’t say anything. I glance at him as he grumpily stretches his legs out onto the coffee table and proceeds to channel-surf. Has he got the hump? I carry on with
my task, not thinking much about it.

I’ve been so happy lately. The only fly in the ointment is Dad. I still feel guilty about abandoning him on the other side of the world. He’s offered to help pay for a return flight
at Christmas and I need to take him up on his offer because I won’t be able to afford it on my own, but I don’t feel right about it. He doesn’t earn that much himself, and
it’s not like he asked me to move over here.

Ned continues to skip through channel after channel without resting on any of them for more than a few seconds. The noise is starting to grate on my nerves. Eventually I snap.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ he mumbles.

‘Tell me,’ I insist.

He mutes the telly and casts me a despondent look. ‘I’m going to miss you, that’s all.’

‘But we’re talking months away!’ I reply with a laugh.

‘So?’

‘Well, there’s no point fretting about something that’s going to happen in six months’ time,’ I say. ‘We might not even still be together, then.’

The look on his face… It wipes the smile right off mine.

‘Hey, I’m not saying…’ I start, but my voice trails off as he gets up and stalks into my bedroom. I follow in time to see him flop down on the bed, face first.

‘Oi.’ I lie down next to him and run my hand through his unruly mop of hair. ‘What’s up with you?’

He turns to face me. ‘I love you more than you love me,’ he says sadly.

‘No, you don’t,’ I reply with an amused frown, shoving his shoulder.

‘Yes, I do,’ he says seriously, propping himself up on one elbow and regarding me with his lovely eyes. ‘I was going to ask you to spend Christmas with me and my family in
Brighton.’

‘Were you?’ I’m a bit taken aback. He’s been thinking about this already? ‘But I won’t have seen my dad in almost two years.’

He looks annoyed. ‘Obviously I understand. I’m not saying I expect – or want – you to choose me over him. But I know I’m going to miss you like crazy and now
you’re saying we might not even be seeing each other?’ His eyebrows knit together.

I sigh. ‘I don’t know, Ned. I’ve never been in a long-term relationship before.’

He, in contrast, has had three serious girlfriends, the last of whom split up with him when they finished university. He was heartbroken, apparently. I didn’t enjoy hearing this admission,
but he claims he’s over her now.

‘Doesn’t this feel right to you?’ he asks.

‘Of course it does,’ I reply heatedly. Can’t he tell that I’m madly and utterly in love with him? ‘I’ve never felt this way before.’

Haven’t you?

That little voice inside my head is interfering again.

But what I’ve always felt for Ethan – that sad, desperate longing – is different. There’s nothing sad or desperate about my feelings for Ned. Ned makes me happier than
any man has ever made me.