As we start walking, I look back and, oh mygoodness, what were we thinking, we were basically right at the entrance to the beach. Another group of people are heading towards us. Wow, we could have been doingallsorts by now, very publicly.
I begin to giggle at the thought, and then Callum begins to laugh too.
The laughing’s a good thing because it’s a distraction from the what-was-that and what-are-we-going-to-do-when-we-get-back-to-the-caravan feelings that I’m starting to get and I imagine Callum might be too.
And somehow, during the laughing, our arms meet and our hands find each other and the rest of the walk back is hand in hand. My head’s full of half-formed what’s-going-to-happen-next and what-do-I-want-to-happen-next thoughts, all of which I try to ignore, because this moonlit, hand-holding walk is truly lovely. I have no idea where – if anywhere – we might go from here, but at the very least, if nothing else happens, I think I will now have a kind of closure on the what-ifs and whys that I’ve had inside me since our non-split split twelve years ago.
As we approach the campsite entrance, I see Callum’s face illuminated for a long moment by a seriously neon lamp, and I feel the most intense longing for… well aforever. With him. I don’t want to lose him again. I know I don’t know much about his life now – well, essentially nothing, I realise, when I do a quick mental catalogue of some of the topics we’ve touched on over the past couple of days – but I knowhim.
Obviously, beyond knowing that I want to keep on seeing him, hopefully get back together properly with him (I can’t believe I just eventhoughtthat, it seems so huge), I have no control over what actually happens owing to the whole taking-two-to-tango thing.
I do feel, though, that I have a little bit of control over what might happen this evening, because I don’t feel like Callum hasthatmuch willpower today when it comes to physical stuff with me. And I feel as though I’d very much like more – a lot more – to happen between us tonight. Because if we don’t ultimately get properly back together, I’m going to be very upset all over again, and whatever we do or don’t do tonight won’t change that. In the short term I would very, very much like to – basically – have extremely rampant sex with him as much as possible for as long as possible.
So as we walk through the campsite gates, I move a little closer to him so that our hand-holding arms are completelytouching, and then I rub my thumb against his. He stops walking and looks down at me. I stand on tiptoes and kiss him right on the lips.
He doesn’t respond immediately and I go almost rigid from panic and slight horror – because we’ll be sharing a very small space for the rest of our journey and if he rejects me now that might not feelgreat– but then he starts to return the kiss, and very quickly the intensity of it builds again.
I push away the thought that he was considering for a little too long what he should do, because this is wonderful and I just want to go with it now, without thinking, analysing, worrying – just enjoy it.
Anothergroup of tourists seems to be heading towards us and so I begin to pull Callum towards my caravan, because it’s slightly nearer than his.
We barely have the door closed before we’re doing stuff that no one should ever do al fresco even in the most deserted of locations, and it’ssensational.
13
CALLUM
I lie in bed flat on my back with my arm around Emma, who’s sleeping nestled against me as she so often used to.
Her hair’s spread across my chest, the weight of her limbs feels comforting rather than heavy, and I love the way it feels as though her breathing’s synced with mine.
I love her. I love everything about her.
I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t want to get hurt either. But most of all I don’t want to hurt her.
I pull her a little bit more tightly against me and stare up at the caravan’s tiled ceiling.
There are stains on it. How did they get there?
I look around the caravan. Its thin grey curtains are nothing against the imprint-your-retina-strong morning sunlight, so I’m almost blinking from the brightness. The interior of the caravan is very brown. Shit-brown. And the fixtures and fittings, such as they are, are only just the right side of acceptable for a very low-price rental.
It’s an incongruous place to have had the most glorious sex with the only woman I’ve ever loved, who I’m going to have to say goodbye to soon.
I have to tell her about Thea. I thought I’d decided that I wasn’t going to but I’m going to have to; I can’t just walk away from her without giving her some kind of a good reason.
The thing is, though, that I can’t leave Emma right now. I can’t. Not just because when I do it’s going to be a huge wrench, but because I honestly can’t bear the thought of abandoning her to the situations she gets into due to her friendliness. And the way people are just drawn to her. Plus, if she feels anywhere near as heartbroken as I’m going to, the north of Italy with the whole of France still to cover before she gets home is not the ideal place for her to be when she finds out that I have to walk away.
I also can’t arrive back in London with her, though; I feel like our real home lives should not collide.
The ideal location for us to part ways would be Paris, I realise. I can tell her I can’t commit to any kind of relationship, because I don’t want to keep on hurting her over and over again, and I think the sticking-plaster approach has to be the best one. I can make sure she’s safely on her way back to London – I’m sure that, even at Emma’s speed, it can’t be that long a drive from Paris to Calais – and I’m sure it will be easy for me to find another transport option from there.
And before that, I will be careful not to pour out all the love and endearments that I want to lavish on her – I will do my best to make it clear that this is just for now – but, if she’s also keen, I will enjoy these few days with her.
So I’ll tell her about Thea when we get to Paris. And then I’ll go.
God. Thea. I didn’t call her yesterday. I messaged her but had no time to phone. That obviously does happen sometimes, but I hate it when it does.
It actuallyneverhappens because of a girlfriend; and that’s just more proof that being with Emma causes me to behave differently and not necessarily well.
