Page 94 of You Were Always the One

The following day, I unpack the contents of my car, presenting my mother with the crate of wine.

‘Goodness.’ Her eyes grow round. ‘This is rather wonderful. It’s just as well you’re going to be here to help me drink it.’

‘We actually have something to celebrate,’ I say. Then I tell her about the film deal.

She looks astonished. ‘That’s marvellous, darling.’ She hugs me.

Emma is suitably thrilled for me when I tell her. And it’s lovely that all of them are part of this time. But the person I’d most love to be sharing this with is Holly.

32

HOLLY

Whatever the reason, Patricia stays in my mind. On New Year’s Day, when Rita and my kids spend another day over at Charley’s, a feeling of uncertainty hangs over me. This next part I’ve planned hoping Miles will be grateful. But in reality, I’ve no idea how he’ll react. Making a cup of tea, I take it upstairs and put it down on the bedside table next to him. ‘Miles? I’m not sure what you’re going to say when I tell you this. I’ve done it because it feels like the right thing to do.’ I hesitate. ‘You’re about to have a visitor.’

‘It isn’t a good time.’ His words are slow, muffled.

‘I know.’ I pause. ‘But this is important. It’s Patricia.’ I watch him closely. ‘She wants to see you.’

A look of shock crosses his face. ‘I told you I didn’t want to see her.’

‘I know you did.’ I had a feeling he would react like this. I also know what I need to say to him. ‘I know you broke it off with her. And I don’t know what’s happened since. And I’m fine with never knowing.’ I pause. ‘I’ve thought about this since she turned up that day. I thought it would be good – for both of you.’ As I watch him, the doorbell rings. ‘That will be her.’ I look at him. ‘Is it OK if I bring her upstairs?’ I ask quietly.

He doesn’t look at me. ‘I suppose so.’

I go downstairs to let Patricia in, then show her up to Miles’s bedroom. Closing the door, I leave them alone, hoping this brings some kind of closure. It’s important, I’ve learned, through years of working for the hospice. People cope with loss in many different ways, but moments like this one are more significant than Miles realises. When he loved her enough to think about leaving me for her, this is only fair on both of them.

But downstairs, it comes to me that I am genuinely unthreatened by Patricia. The fact is my relationship with Miles has changed; we are no longer each other’s true loves. But I don’t think we ever were. Nor do we see ourselves that way. That ship sailed a long time ago.

I’m in the kitchen a couple of hours later when Patricia comes downstairs.

‘Miles asked if you could go up and see him.’ She pauses. ‘Thank you, Holly. It’s meant the world to have this time together.’

‘You’re welcome.’ I hesitate. ‘I’m not angry, Patricia. I mean, I was. But not any more. Everyone deserves a chance at happiness. Miles and I had reached the end of the road, but at the time, I couldn’t accept that.’ I pause. ‘I guess if he wasn’t sick, you and he might have had a future.’

‘But it doesn’t always work out, does it?’ She looks at me curiously. ‘How can you be like this?’

I frown slightly. ‘Like what?’

‘So accepting. Forgiving – whatever you want to call it. If I were you, I’d be hurling china and screaming at me.’

‘I’m too tired.’ My voice wavers. Once, it consumed me, but I’m beyond wanting to know the details of how she and Miles got together. Where we are now, it isn’t relevant. ‘Maybe you should go.’ I glance across the kitchen. ‘Before I reach for those plates.’

‘I probably should.’ She lingers. ‘Thank you, Holly. From the bottom of my heart. I’m not sure you’ll ever know what this has meant to me.’

After she leaves, I close the door behind her; then, turning around, I lean against it, listening to her car drive away, before remembering what she said, about Miles wanting to see me.

When I go into his bedroom, he doesn’t move as I go over to his bed.

‘Are you OK?’ I ask.

He turns to look at me. ‘Not really,’ he says. ‘Will you come and sit down?’

Not sure what to say, I perch on the edge of the bed.

‘It was good to see Patricia,’ he says at last. ‘She told me you called her to set it up. That was very…’ He struggles for the word. ‘…generous of you.’

I have a sudden urge to tell him about Riggs. For him to know who I really am. That I am not beyond reproach, any more than he is. ‘Miles, I have a…’