This is a Love Story (28 page)

short relationship was in there, spread all over the pages, laid out beautifully with love and care.

I noticed the hairs on my arms were raised. I felt that familiar sensation creep back over me and I started from page one all over

again.

I put my feet on the coffee table and went on a journey, remembering everything that had happened since I’d met her. I ran my

index finger over her face in one of the photos we’d taken in a picture booth in Florida. She was sitting on my lap and laughing.

God, she was stunning.

When I first met her she was a baby, really, but so much more ready for the world than I was – or ever would be, I expect.

I could smell it. I could taste it. I could feel the warmth of her right next to me. I’m ashamed to admit it, but a huge tear fell from

my right eye and rolled down my cheek. A happy tear. For the first time in my life, another person, Sienna Walker, had taken one of

the scariest days of my existence and made it one of the happiest, and she wasn’t even here . . .

I picked up my phone with a trembling hand and held down the 2 button, my heart thumping.

‘Hello, Nick.’ It sounded like she had a huge smile on her face.

‘Sienna, fuck. Thank you. Thank you so much. You have no idea . . . how much . . . just how much . . . Ughh . . .’ I couldn’t

even get the words out but I hoped she understood. I realised that my head was in my hands right down towards my lap, the phone

tucked between my right ear and shoulder.

‘Happy birthday, sweetheart,’ she replied, that customary warmth in her voice resonating through the tinny line.

‘You didn’t have to do this. It must have taken you ages. It’s, well, it’s incredible, Si,’ I said, feeling nervous all of a sudden.

Intimidated by the grandeur of her. There was a short pause while I listened to her move into what I assumed were the ladies’ toilets.

‘I know this might sound cheesy,’ she started, taking a deep breath, ‘but I adore you, Nick Redland. You’ve got me through

everything. I would be lost without you. So really, it’s the least I could do. Thank you for being around.’ She sounded nervous.

Her words hit me hard. ‘I need to see you, Sienna.’ It just came out of my mouth. It was involuntary. The sentence just spilled out

because it was the most natural thing in the world.

‘We’ll see each other soon, I promise. Look, I have to go. Have yourself a wonderful thirtieth birthday, Nick, and be proud of

everything that you are.’

And that was it. The line went dead. I looked at the photos of Sienna and me in a supermarket photo booth, and for the first time

in a long time, I was proud of who I am.

Sienna

It’s been 882 days since I first met Nick Redland. That’s around two years and five months of happiness, and I’m documenting

these moments in a big black book.

‘Glue, please, Sienna,’ came a polite request from my father, who was holding a cinema ticket in his hands. A blue sequin was

stuck to his chin.

‘Here you go, Pops,’ I replied, passing him a tray of special art glue that doesn’t make things go crinkly when it dries.

‘This is such a good idea,’ he beamed, slicking the viscous liquid neatly over the back of the paper and pushing it down on the

puckered white card. ‘He’s going to love it,’ he added, even more excited than me.

I was so glad he was helping. It was something really nice we could do together. And doing stuff together was quite hard

nowadays, since he couldn’t leave the house for any period of time without falling over and knocking himself out.

Our favourite movie, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, was playing on the widescreen TV in the background. The sound was low so you

could barely make out the clipped accent of Hepburn’s character, but you could see her gorgeous little face slicked with rain as she

ran through the streets in search of Cat. This was the best bit. Holly Golightly would find herself in a passionate tryst with the man

she loved and her ginger pet under sheets of engineered rain. Ah . . . My gaze turned to the window. It was raining here too, but it

looked a lot less romantic.

‘What gave you this idea, then?’ my dad questioned me, rolling the sleeves of his baggy blue jumper above his elbows. I had

created him a cushion haven on the sofa, and he was sitting so he would fall onto a soft surface when he passed out. Not if, but

when. This was tiring stuff for him.

‘Well, I was really stuck about what to give him for his birthday – it’s a big one, obviously. Silly gifts and gimmicks weren’t really

going to do the trick.’ I reached over to the pile of mementoes and picked up a strip of photos taken in a booth in Florida. I was

sitting on Nick’s lap and he had just poked me in the ribs, causing me to cackle loudly as the flashbulbs went. God, I loved him. ‘So

I was lying in bed one night and I was thinking about all the fun times we’ve had, and it dawned on me that my room was full of bits

of paper, photos, tickets and stuff like that from our various adventures. I got up and gathered them all together and that was when

the idea hit me.’

‘It’s perfect. He’s going to love it,’ Dad said again. ‘You two are quite something, aren’t you?’ he muttered, holding a photo and

peering more closely at it.

‘What’s that?’ I asked. He turned the image round. It was Halloween two years ago; we dressed up as Batman and Robin.

‘There is one thing that concerns me a little,’ he began, taking a huge gulp from his mug of tea.

Here we go . . .

‘He has a girlfriend, right?’

‘Yes. Chloe.’ Luckily I was over my hideous jealousy by now, otherwise I would have launched myself off a cliff on a motorised

scooter. She seemed really nice, actually – not that I knew her that well. She seemed to keep a safe distance from me; the most we

talked was when she handed me a mug on her tea round.

‘How do you think she’ll feel about all this? Hmm?’ he probed. He had that look on his face that he always has when I’m doing

something a little bit naughty. You know, something you can get away with, but it’s still a bit dodgy. Like keeping a tenner you find

poking out of a cash machine, bunking the train fare or failing to tip in a really good restaurant.

‘You are, after all, quite deeply in love with Nick,’ said Dad.

‘Was in love,’ I abruptly corrected him, pressing a theatre ticket onto the page in frustration.

‘OK, was, sorry. I suppose it was a long time ago you told me all that,’ he conceded, sorting through a pile of tickets and receipts.

‘Yes, I did used to love him like that, but I don’t now. Plus I’ve got Ben. I think Chloe is absolutely fine about Nick and me being

friends. That’s all this book is about.’ I looked him straight in the eye.

He took a deep breath, like he was fighting off his fatigue with a fresh dose of oxygen. ‘That’s fine, Sienna. I know your

intentions are good. It’s just, you’re a really pretty girl, and I think most women would find your closeness, well, deeply unnerving.’

His words shocked me a little. In comparison to Chloe I felt like some wart-covered creature that had crawled out of a badger set.

He wasn’t being accusatory or aggressive, just truthful, and that’s what I love about my dad.

‘Thanks. But no, don’t worry. I’ll handle it very carefully. It’s important he gets this.’

I looked at him as he held a peacock feather towards the halogen ceiling light; its petrol blue and green shades lit up and he

grinned. ‘What about this one, huh?’ He whipped the feather towards my face and brushed my left cheek with it. I pulled my neck

back into my shoulders because it tickled.

‘We went to a farm once, just for fun. He found it on the ground and gave it to me.’

‘And what about Ben?’ Dad continued to prod.

‘What about him?’

‘How does he feel about you and Nick being such good friends? You’ve been seeing each other for about nine months now,

right?’

‘Er, yes, that’s probably about right . . . I don’t think he feels a lot, Dad. We haven’t been too serious with each other anyway, as

in we don’t see each other all that often. And if he has an issue with it, he’ll just have to lump it, won’t he? I can’t be doing with

jealous men . . .’

‘This must have all been quite difficult for you, really, Sienna,’ Dad pondered, gently running his fingers over the feather’s

circular pattern. ‘You know . . . loving someone that much and having to, well, pack it away into a little box and pretend it isn’t

there.’

That was a very good way of describing it. A little box. Packed full of love. Love that I had never really been able to express, so it

was banging away at the sides and screaming to be let out.

‘Yes, it has been. And really, it’s a little box I carry everywhere with me, because I guess the love never properly goes away.’

There was a soft thud. Dad had slumped back onto the mound of cushions I had gathered. Bless him.

As the afternoon wore on, I continued to cut, glue and stick the remnants of the last two and a half years of my life onto the

book’s pages. The film had finished a long time ago, and the DVD menu sequence must have repeated itself hundreds of times.

Normally this would have irritated me, but I was in a deep trance. The rain fell faster and heavier as the darkness of the night slowly

pulled a thick, black cloak over the daylight. It would be Nick’s thirtieth birthday in just three days. I quietly prayed for sunshine so

he would wake up and see how good things really are. How he doesn’t need to worry about all the silly stuff that crowds his mind,

like his career and his age.

The next day I walked down to the post office. Nervous butterflies filled my stomach and made it hard to breathe. I really was

doing this, wasn’t I? I was basically saying, with photographs and sequins and feathers and glue, I love you. Just as a friend, of

course . . .

A grey-haired lady was on the other side of the glass counter. One of those weird jangly chains ran from the sides of her glasses

around her neck. What is it that these people think is going to happen to their specs? Quite bizarre . . .

‘I need special delivery, please. I really need to make sure this gets to its destination safely.’ I meant business.

She looked slightly offended. Well, tough. Inside this box were the best memories of my life, and I wasn’t having them delivered

to some guy called Bob who would open them, shrug his shoulders and then use them as a footrest.

I wrote Nick’s name and address in capital letters, taking care that the numbers were clear, then pushed the parcel through to the

woman. According to her badge, her name was Sue, but you could never trust that. When I worked at the supermarket on Saturday

mornings I wore a ‘Geoff’ badge for years, just because they hadn’t bothered sending off for a ‘Sienna’ one.

The parcel was weighed. How much does love weigh, I wondered . . .

‘That’s £5.90, please,’ said Sue, her hand already thrust out expectantly.

I pushed the exact money into her chubby palm and looked into her eyes. ‘Please, make sure it gets there safely. Please.’

‘Yes, yes, I will.’ She finally cracked a smile. I think she knew this was about a boy.

Tuesday came and went. It was uneventful.

Then it was Wednesday. Nick’s day. I didn’t call or text. I thought I had done enough, really.

‘Morning, gorgeous,’ said Lydia, rushing over to me in a pair of exceptionally high heels the minute I came out of the lift. Just

looking at them made me giddy.

‘You look lovely, Lyds,’ I said, giving her a gentle kiss on the cheek.

And indeed she did. Her auburn curls were tumbling over a dark grey knitted jumper, cinched in at the waist with a thin patent

belt. Underneath that was a pair of tailored black trousers, skinny at the ankle to highlight the glorious shoes. She was like a

supermodel. I looked down at my own ensemble, which consisted of black skinny jeans, a grey cardigan and a pair of black ballet

pumps. It was a bit boring, to say the least.

‘You’re going to have to take me shopping soon,’ I exclaimed, hoping that just a smidgen of her style might rub off on me if I sat

close enough.

She leaned in close to my ear, filling the space around me with her perfume. ‘I’ve met a boy, Sienna. Well, a man. A very sexy

man.’ Then she moved back again, clasping her hands together and giggling.

‘That is so exciting! Tell me more.’ I reached forward and held her lower arms in my hands. So that’s why she was looking so

spectacular today, I thought. I mean, she always looks good, but you can tell when a woman is in the throes of something passionate.

She makes even more of an effort. Nails are painted. Legs are shaved. Scented moisturiser is deployed . . .

‘Well, he works at an office down the road. We kept bumping into each other in Starbucks every day and he bought my latte last

week and asked for my number.’ She looked down at her feet, blushing slightly.

‘That is so cute,’ I gushed.

Then my phone rang, pulling me out of my romantic rundown with Lydia. It was Nick. I gestured an apology her way and dived

into the corridor. My stomach filled with nerves again. What if he didn’t like the book and I had misjudged the whole thing? Surely I

shouldn’t worry. Nick was an artistic and creative individual, pretty cool about all that stuff. He wasn’t the kind who avoided

sequins for fear of turning into a raging queen.

‘Hello, Nick,’ I answered, forcing a smile across my face so that I sounded upbeat rather than bloody terrified.

He tried to get some words out, but it was a strange sentence which included the words ‘fuck’ and ‘ughh’ – if that is even a proper