She made herself wait, took a long sip of wine, then opened the message.
Nothing to forgive :) Family had to come first. I couldn’t afford to come over there, you couldn’t get back here. I went on a trip after you left, lost my phone and all my contacts. Basically… shit happens … :(
So that’s why he’d suddenly gone quiet. He’d lost her contact details. Hmm. That sounded a little lame. He knew her email address. He also knew Tina and could have asked her. But he would have been in seriously remote terrain. Just him and nature. He’d told her before about some of his trips, how it could be weeks before he saw anyone. She checked her thoughts – who was she to question when she hadn’t told him the truth? Did it really matter now?
She took another sip of her wine and studied the mantelpiece, the row of family pictures staring back at her from their frames. My family. My future. Connor was her past. As a lover, anyway. But he can still be a friend, can’t he? Her fingers tapped out a reply.
What are you up to? Married? Family?
She watched the screen, waiting for an answer, but given the time difference, she knew it was unlikely to come. She drained her glass, put her phone down and went into the kitchen to get a refill. That’s when she saw the boxes she’d brought back from her dad’s house: three of them, stacked against the kitchen wall, where they were going to be in the way.
Unsettled after Connor’s message, she put her glass down and opened the top box, finding it full of fashion accessories: belts and handbags, a couple of old purses, hair bands, a collection of baseball caps and a boxful of costume jewellery that she’d never wear again. All the detritus that had been left behind in her wardrobe when she’d moved out. Mia might like some of it for her dressing-up box, she decided, keeping a few bits and pieces that would be safe for a young child before putting the rest back in the box and taking it through to the utility room, ready to go to the tip.
The next box was full of footwear: shoes and wellies, a pair of flippers, trainers and a couple of pairs of high heels that she wouldn’t be able to walk in now. She kept the flippers and wellies and put the box with the other one in the utility room.
The last box was quite heavy, full of paper and picture frames, stuff she’d had on her walls. She recognised the contents of her desk and knew this would need careful sorting – there were memories in here, together with records of achievements and official paperwork that she’d want to keep. She yawned and stared at the box, wondering if she should leave it for another day and take the opportunity to have an early night.
Her curiosity had been piqued, though, as she couldn’t remember exactly what might be in there. Old school reports, photos from university when she was doing her nursing degree. Yes, she was pretty sure there’d be a few laughs amongst the paperwork. After topping up her wine, she lifted the box on to the kitchen table and started sorting the contents into piles.
Halfway down she found an A5 notebook, fat and well used with a picture of a kangaroo on the front. Her heart gave a little skip. This was one of the journals she’d kept while she was on sabbatical in Australia. Something her therapist had suggested, so she could record her thoughts, note down the positives, address her worries and work through the issues which had been weighing on her mind for so long. She’d got into a routine with it and knew if she searched through the box, there would be others. She smoothed the front cover, relishing the familiar feel of it, stirring memories like silt from the bottom of a pond. This was the journal she’d been keeping just before she came home. This one was full of Connor.
A fizz of anticipation bubbled through her as she opened the book. On the very first page, there was a picture of her and Connor on the beach – her in a hot-pink bikini, him in faded black bathing shorts, both leaning on surfboards, hair still wet, matching grins. She stared at her image, a slimline version of herself, tanned and glowing with good health. Look at that smile! Happiness shone from her. She appeared light and carefree. Quite the opposite of how she felt now.
She glanced at the date and worked out the figures in her mind. Maybe two months after she and Connor had met. This was a picture of those early, heady days of their relationship, when friendship had blossomed into love, but nothing was serious. When their focus was on having fun. What a perfect playmate he’d been, lighting up her life with his silly jokes and gentle nature. She started reading her scrawled thoughts, and she was taken back to some of the happiest days of her life.
As she flicked through the pages, her eyes were drawn to the pictures of Connor. She studied his face, remembering his touch and how it felt to lie in his arms and feel the fuzz of his chest hair against her cheek. ‘G’day mate,’ she whispered, a smile in her voice, delighted by her find – a whole book of escapism. It was like finding treasure.
It was only when the front door banged closed that she realised Dean was home, and she quickly threw the journal back in the box, hiding it under a couple of framed certificates. She fumbled the lid closed as if it was some terrible secret. Her cheeks were burning and she jumped up, took her glass to the sink and let the cold water run over her hands in an attempt to cool the heat that flushed through her body.
He knows about Connor, she reminded herself, only to be castigated by her conscience. Doesn’t mean he’d be happy with you mooning over his picture, though, does it? She picked up the box just as Dean came into the kitchen. He gave her a tired, preoccupied sort of a smile that hardly had the energy to turn his mouth up at the corners.
‘What you got there?’ he said, studying the box she had clasped to her chest.
‘Oh, Dad’s been having a clear-out. It’s just stuff from my old bedroom that I need to sort out.’ She grasped the box a little tighter. ‘I’ll stick it in the spare room for now, I think. Out of the way. Then I can sort through as and when I’ve got a moment.’
He moved to one side to let her get past him into the hall.
She hurried up the stairs and into the bedroom at the end of the landing, which had become a storeroom for belongings yet to be unpacked and find a permanent place in their home. It had been furnished as a spare bedroom, though, with a double bed, a chest of drawers and a built-in wardrobe along one entire wall. She opened this now and pushed the box into a corner on the floor, shut the door and glanced around the room.
I’ll have to have a tidy up if Dad’s coming to stay. Dean had a bag of golf clubs stacked in a corner, along with a number of golfing umbrellas adorned with his company logo. There were a couple of large cardboard boxes filled with company merchandise – jumpers and jackets and gilets, all branded. Her heart sank. In truth, the room was a mess.
I’ll have to get Dean to help, she mused, frowning as she opened drawers and found them full of golfing paraphernalia. It seemed he’d commandeered the room without her really noticing. No time like the present, she decided, hurrying back downstairs. Her dad would be coming the day after tomorrow, and she’d need to have the room ready for him.
Dean was sitting in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea, lost in his thoughts. She noticed the grooves on either side of his mouth, the deep furrow between his eyebrows. He worked hard, she’d have to give him that, and she was grateful for the financial security – and the lovely new home – his efforts had given them. She went over to him, bent to give him a hug and a kiss, but he hardly responded.