Never forget you, p.19
Never Forget You, page 19
‘I don’t know what to call you any more. Do you want me to use Lili? Or should I still call you Alice?’
She stopped, jeans and chunky-knit jumper clutched to her chest. She definitely was Lili, wasn’t she? Unless there was another woman who looked just like her and who also owned an identical bee necklace, which seemed too much of a coincidence. It would make sense to use her proper name.
But when she opened her mouth to tell Ben that, she found herself saying, ‘Let’s stick with Alice.’ At least she was beginning to know who that person was. Lili still felt like a stranger.
The uniformed man standing by the ticket office cleared his throat. ‘I’m afraid the first few trains this morning have been cancelled, and those running later will be subject to delays.’ A collective groan rippled through the crowd of stranded passengers. ‘However, we will endeavour to get all of you to your destinations later today, but please bear in mind that the first trains that run this morning may be quite crowded.’
Ben closed his eyes and gave himself a mental slap. They should have asked to stay overnight in Carlisle, after all. Any trains travelling from Glasgow to London would stop there first, meaning there’d be a lot fewer seats by the time they got to Penrith.
‘We’ll have another update for you in about an hour,’ the railway company employee said, then scurried away behind a door marked ‘Staff Only’ before anyone could moan at him further.
‘Great,’ Alice muttered. She waved her phone listlessly at him. ‘I suppose I’d better update my travel journal – although it’s turning more into an epic saga. Do you think there’ll be dragons or a giant squid later on? Because I feel it’s becoming that kind of trip.’
Ben hid a smile. Despite the difficult conversation they’d had last night, it seemed as if things were edging back towards normal between them, although, whether that was ‘normal for him and Lili’ or ‘normal for him and Alice’, he wasn’t sure.
They eased their way through the collected bodies and out of the ticket office. ‘Video, I think,’ Alice said. ‘This one’s a bit too complicated for a string of pictures.’ She was about to hand her phone over to him but then glanced at the huddles of muttering people near the station entrance. ‘Do you think we could go somewhere a little more private?’
‘Sure. What about over there?’
Alice turned and looked to where he was pointing. Beyond the small car park, partly obscured by trees, a ruined building sat in what would have been a spacious lawn if it hadn’t been covered in ten centimetres of snow.
They trudged their way across the forecourt, onto the newly gritted road, then walked a short distance into the parkland. Once they were far enough away from nosey onlookers but close enough to keep the station building in shot, Alice blew out a breath and handed her phone to Ben. He framed the shot, then gave her a nod.
‘I’m … um … here in Penrith,’ Alice began, doing anything but making eye contact with the lens. ‘It started to snow and— Oh, maybe I ought to mention …’ She turned away from the camera, screwed her face up, then tried again. ‘Well, before the snow, there was the train and the …’ She mimed ‘cut it’ by pulling a finger across her throat, and then her shoulders sagged. ‘Clearly, my career is not in television. Okay … give me a moment while I get it straight in my head.’
The second attempt wasn’t much better than the first. She got the events in the right order, but it was all a bit jumbled.
‘Just be yourself,’ Ben said.
‘Easy for you to say. I have no idea who that person is.’
‘You do,’ he replied softly. ‘Deep down inside.’
She sighed and reached to take the phone from him. ‘We haven’t got time for that amount of soul searching – even if I did think it was possible.’
He batted her hand away. ‘Don’t think about talking to a lens or a camera, some faceless person who might see this video one day. Talk to me. That should be easy enough – you and I have discussed nothing else all morning.’
‘All right then … Just hold the phone down a little bit so I can see your face. That’ll help if I’m supposed to be talking to you.’
Attempt number three still wasn’t professional broadcaste quality, but Alice got through it. ‘Right,’ she said when she finished, turning in the direction of the park exit.
Ben glanced around at the remains of walls and tall chimneys poking up from the crumbling brickwork, all capped with a thick layer of fresh snow. ‘Don’t you want to take a moment to look around?’
‘What about the update from the train company?’
‘We’ve still got another fifty minutes before we learn anything new.’
She took a moment to look around. ‘It is really pretty here …’
Ben handed her phone back to her and set an alarm for nine fifty-five on his own. They walked closer to the ruined building and found a sign that informed them this was what was left of Penrith Castle.
‘Don’t put it away just yet,’ he said as she went to tuck her phone back into her jeans pocket.
‘Why not?’
‘A journey is more than merely getting from A to B. It’s more than trains and buses, boats, and aeroplanes. Each journey, even on the same route but on a different day or in a different season, has its own unique flavour. You’ll never have a moment exactly like this again. Why not capture some of this for your travel journal too?’
She blinked. ‘You’re right. I suppose I’ve just been focusing so hard on the mechanics of the journey that I didn’t even think about that. And the castle does look stupendous in the snow.’
She was right about that. The sky was a clear, shocking blue against the icy whiteness, setting off the warm tones of the bricks and fallen stones. Alice walked a short distance away, held her phone up, and pressed the screen to take a photo.
As Ben watched her, he realised she was instinctively finding the right direction for the light, using things like drooping tree branches to frame her subject, getting down low or climbing up on something to give her a different perspective. All things he’d shown her the first day they’d met. Could it be that there was some small part of her that remembered something from their time together? The idea settled like a bright glowing seed inside him.
Ten minutes later, they compared their results. ‘Not bad,’ he said, swiping through her phone. ‘I’d better watch out.’
She gave him a cheeky look, took the phone from his hands, backed away and held it up in his direction. ‘Say cheese!’
‘Really?’ he said, realising even though it was her, he still didn’t like being this side of the lens. The camera saw everything, and he preferred to be tucked away out its eye-line if possible.
‘Really. Someone once told me that a journey is more than just getting from A to B.’ She glanced up, her expression playful.
‘Okay,’ he said, laughing. ‘You got me there.’
‘But it’s more than other places too, isn’t it? It’s the people you meet. That means you’re part of my journey, Ben. A big part of it.’
It wasn’t lost on him that he’d said something very similar to her in that hidden garden back in London all those years ago. It made him feel that if he could reach out and scratch just a few thin layers away, her memories of him might be hiding there, just under the surface. What if they did all come back in a rush, wiping the current ones away? Part of him wished for that, so she could remember how it was before, so he could explain and seek forgiveness, but another part of him didn’t. He didn’t want to lose the time they’d had together over the last few days, either.
Out of the corner of his eye, he was aware of Alice moving away, balancing her phone on one of the tumbledown walls.
He was about to ask her what she was doing when, in one smooth motion, she scooped a handful of snow off the corner of the wall and pressed it between her hands. A second later, his face was full of ice, and he was spluttering for breath.
Alice laughed. And it wasn’t the soft chuckle he’d heard her do before. This time it came right up from inside her, rough and dirty and unstoppable. He couldn’t help joining in. He also couldn’t help reaching down, finding his own handful of snow, and flinging it back at her.
She was too quick for him, darting to the side before it made impact. But he was pretty sure he had a better throwing arm and longer legs. It took three attempts, but he finally got her, and then all-out war ensued. After ten minutes, they were both breathless and feeling the chill of melted ice down the backs of their necks.
While he brushed himself down, Alice looked up. Clouds had drifted in since they’d arrived at the ruined castle, and now both land and sky were painted with the same soft white palette. ‘Do you think it’s going to snow again?’
He came to stand beside her. ‘Probably.’
‘My ears are freezing.’
He thought for a moment, then reached inside his coat pocket, pulled out his grey beanie and pulled it down over her snowball-tousled hair. Her eyes widened, and she moved to take it off again, but he shook his head. ‘Keep it. For now.’
They walked around, looking at what must have been the remains of the different rooms inside the castle, most only low walls unless they were part of the exterior of the structure. Alice took a few more shots of different things but frowned when she looked at the results. ‘Some of my shots look washed out. What am I doing wrong?’
‘It’s all about lighting, mainly,’ he said. ‘And contrast – finding an area of dark and shadow to feature, so it’s not just different shades of white in the shot.’ He took a couple of shots of a snow-covered bush from different angles and showed her the difference.
‘Oh, yes. I see what you mean now!’ She handed his phone back to him, and her expression grew serious. ‘This is your passion, isn’t it? Taking photographs?’
‘Um … Well, yes.’ There wasn’t much he could do to deny it now.
She was looking at him the same way she had done countless times when they’d hopped around London together – like she wanted to get a screwdriver, unlatch his skull and peer inside at his brain to find out what made him tick. Ben steeled himself for the next soft probe.
‘When we were on the train, you said you used to be a travel photographer. Used to be. If you love it so much, why did you give it up?’
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Five months before the wedding.
‘JUSTIN …’ I SAID laughing, ‘do I really have to wear this thing?’ I reached up to touch the silk covering my eyes. I was sitting in the passenger seat of his Range Rover, and he’d been driving for about forty minutes. Five minutes ago, he’d pulled over and insisted he knot one of his ties firmly around my head.
‘It won’t be long now,’ he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. ‘I don’t want to spoil the surprise.’
I relaxed back into the comfortable leather seat and smiled to myself. However high maintenance Justin could be sometimes, he was also loving and romantic, and when he pulled out all the stops, he made me feel like a princess.
A short while later, he came off the motorway – I felt the car slow, and then we took much more winding roads for a few minutes, before turning into what I guessed was a drive of some kind, because he kept his speed low and now and again we had to bunny hop our way over little speed bumps. Finally, he parked. I went to push the tie up onto my forehead, but his hand shot out and stopped me. ‘Not yet, Miss Impatient.’
I laughed, but I did as I was told. He came round to my side of the car, opened the door, and helped me down. I could feel rough, slightly stony ground under my feet. The summer was heaving its last dying breaths, evidenced by the cool breeze that rippled around me. I could hear voices, birds, trees rustling, but none of them gave me any clue to where we were. I gripped onto his arm tightly when he offered it to me.
Justin put his arm around me and led me along a firm, tarmacked path. It was just as well because, since I hadn’t known where we were going today, Justin had picked my outfit, and I was wearing nude pumps with four-inch heels. They were beautiful but not very practical for being out in the countryside.
‘I thought you said you were going to trust me when I put the blindfold on you,’ Justin said softly, but there was no irritation in his voice, only humour.
‘Sorry.’ I did my best to let him lead me, discovering it was easier if I stopped thinking for myself, trying to work out where we were and how I should put my feet, and let Justin think for me. After a while, I kind of checked out, and it was like waking from a daze when he finally brought me to a halt and lifted the blindfold from my eyes.
‘What do you think?’
I blinked, trying to get my blurry eyes to adjust to the light of the bright September morning. The first thing I saw was water – so flat and calm it had become a mirror for the cloudless blue sky above. The only hint that it was a lake were the tiny ripples fluttering across the surface in the wake of a pair of swans.
My gaze travelled upwards and I saw … I inhaled sharply. A castle. With turrets and windows and crenelated walls, all shaped in soft yellow sandstone. What I’d thought was a lake was actually a moat, and the main part of the castle was joined to the shore by a small, arched bridge.
‘Do you like it?’ Justin said in my ear.
‘I love it!’ I turned and gave him a quick but heartfelt kiss. When he’d said he was taking me for a day out, I hadn’t expected this. I thought it would be a fancy lunch at one of his favourite haunts or an art gallery. While I didn’t mind those things, this was much more up my street. How wonderful that he’d realised without me even telling him.
‘Come on,’ he said, grabbing my hand and leading me towards the castle. ‘There’s someone I want you to meet.’
I didn’t have time to raise my eyebrows in surprise because we were instantly hurrying along the path, over the bridge, and onto the island. The castle itself sat just beyond a large, clipped lawn surrounded by a path. Justin tugged my hand and pulled me into one of the large gatehouses that sat just beyond the bridge.
A woman in a gorgeous cream suit greeted us as we reached the nail-studded wooden door and led us into a spacious room with a large brick fireplace at one end, tapestries on the walls, and wrought-iron chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. A waiter appeared from nowhere and offered each of us a glass of champagne.
‘Mr De la Hay,’ she said warmly, and I detected a hint of an American accent. ‘Welcome to Hadsborough Castle. Why don’t I give you a tour first, and then we can talk in more detail about our wedding packages?’
‘Perfect,’ Justin said and squeezed my hand.
I just smiled back. Had she just said ‘wedding’? The concept of this even being a possible venue blew my mind.
The next twenty minutes were a blur. We inspected a spacious barn situated a short distance from the castle, the more affordable of the castle’s two wedding venues, and then Faith, our guide, brought us back into the castle itself, where she showed us a large panelled banqueting hall with mullioned windows overlooking the moat, a dressing room for the bride with a proper four-poster bed, and promises of a drinks reception and photos on the lawn outside if the weather was fine. Once all the talk was over, she withdrew to a discreet distance.
Justin led me to the long windows overlooking the moat and took my hands in his. ‘So … what do you think? Don’t you think this is the perfect place to get married?’
I nodded, swallowing at the same time. It was gorgeous, a dream come true. But that was half the problem. ‘I … I don’t think my mum and dad would be able to stretch to something like this,’ I said quietly, not wanting Faith to overhear. ‘Not even the barn.’ And I looked back at him, willing him to understand, so I didn’t have to spell it out in front of a stranger. To be honest, I’d hoped he might have worked this out for himself.
Justin reached up and touched my face with his hand. ‘Darling, of course I’m going to chip in! I wouldn’t expect your parents to bear the cost of this alone.’ He smiled back at me, as if that solved everything.
My throat tightened further. Only the other week, Mum had told me how hard she and Dad had saved for my and Lo’s weddings. Our family wasn’t going to let the side down. They were going to put on a good ‘do’.
‘I think I need to talk it over with Mum and Dad,’ I said quietly.
Irritation pinched Justin’s features. Even though he was an incredibly structured kind of person, sometimes, he also had these … what did I call them? ‘Whims’ didn’t fit. The word made it sound as if his ideas were flighty or airy when, in fact, they were often solid and intractable, projections of his steely will. I could tell he’d come here expecting to book this place today, and he’d be upset if we didn’t.
‘My dad grew up with nothing,’ I explained. ‘He’s worked all hours to build up his plumbing business, and he’s proud of what he’s achieved, and he might be a bit … sensitive … if we rock up and say what he’d been planning isn’t good enough. I think he and Mum had been thinking of The Maple Court Hotel.’
‘What? That place where your cousin had her engagement party? Don’t you think it was a little tired?’
I bit my lip. At the time, I hadn’t thought anything of it. The Maple was the poshest hotel in the area, which wasn’t saying much, I suppose, since our bit of south London wasn’t exactly a thriving tourist hotspot. However, when I looked around at where we were – an actual castle – and thought about the kind of places Justin frequented, I could see his point.
‘You’re right. Of course you are.’ Justin always was when it came to matters of taste. ‘But I don’t want to offend my parents … They’ve done so much for me over the years.’
His face fell. He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked off to stare into the vast, empty fireplace. I waited for a minute or two, unsure what to say or do, and then I followed him.
‘Justin?’ I said, rubbing his arm gently.
‘I know I’ve got ahead of myself,’ he said, gazing in the direction of the grate, ‘but I wanted to give you this. I want you to have the fairy tale, Angel, because you deserve it. It doesn’t matter what it costs, not to me.’
