Page 62 of Always, in December

Max shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.’

Something crushed around Josie’s heart, but she nodded, tight-lipped. ‘No. I suppose you shouldn’t have.’ She took a single step away.

‘Josie, wait, I didn’t mean . . .’

But she’d had enough. She’d had enough of half promises, of the hints and looks and goddamn mixed messages. So when she spoke her voice was a hard line. ‘No, Max. I’m done with this. You walked into my life, made me feel . . . I don’t know.’ She pulled a hand through her hair. ‘Different. Then you walked out of it, without a second thought for my feelings. And that’s fine, whatever, if you didn’t want anything more. You could have found a nicer way to do that, but I can accept it.’ She shook her head. ‘But what I can’t accept is this.’ She gestured between them. ‘Is you acting like nothing’s happened, or trying to be friends, or hinting that you want something more, and I can’t . . .’ She took a slow breath, trying to calm her voice down, wishing it didn’t sound like it was on the verge of a sob. ‘After this weekend, I think it’s best if we don’t see each other again.’ Because what she’d realised over these last few days was that she couldn’t be friends with him – not without wanting more. So if that was what he was asking for, she wouldn’t do it. Better that he was out of her life completely, and then she’d be able to forget about him.

Max said nothing, just looked at her with an expression she couldn’t quite make out. Her lips tightened, but she would not let her emotions get the better of her, would not cry. This time, it would be her turn to walk away from him. So she turned, holding her head high, and walked after Bia. And this time, Max did not follow.

Part Four: December

Chapter Twenty-Two

It was cold enough in the underground vault that Geoffrey had hired for the evening that Josie had kept her jacket on – clearly, they had not thought to ramp up the heating in the run-up to their little exhibition. The place had a cool, edgy atmosphere with mixed lighting, aiming to show the photography off at its best, and tables positioned strategically so that people were encouraged to stand and look at the work, rather than sit and drink.

Josie kept her hands in her pockets, partly from the cold but mainly to control the urge to constantly twist them together, as she watched people mill about, having put her glass of Merlot down already so that she didn’t keep sipping it out of nerves. The students – twenty-one, including Josie – had been encouraged to invite people to this end-of-course ‘Celebration’, as Geoffrey had called it, and those were the people who, she was sure, made up the majority of the crowd, but she knew there were also some people from the industry there. She couldn’t quite believe that it was her work being displayed up on the walls, that people were currently looking at it, cocking their heads curiously or nudging their friends to point something out. Across the room, she caught sight of Geoffrey, who only winked to where she was standing alone like a lemon before heading off to talk to someone else.

The theme was a celebration of Edinburgh. They’d been allowed to pick what they wanted that to encompass – people, buildings, landscapes. Josie had gone for landscapes – she’d known from the outset that it would be tough to do something fresh and original with that, but she was pleased with what she’d accomplished, and felt like she’d grown as a photographer for sure. It had, she would admit, been the most amazing two and a half months; it had been incredible to be allowed to indulge completely in what she loved doing.

She smiled as she saw Bia, who seemed fully delighted by the whole affair, chatting to John and Laura on the other side of the room, underneath a fellow student’s portrait of two women outside a cafe. She felt a little warm and fuzzy inside, seeing her friends here for this, that they’d made the effort to come and not brushed it aside as something silly or insignificant, something she’d just needed to get out her system before she returned to the real world – as much as it felt like that to her, at times. The fact that all her confirmed guests were here didn’t stop her from regularly glancing towards the door, however, her stomach pulsing uncomfortably every time she did so.

Having done a slow lap of the room, Helen, Memo and her grandad came back round to her. Josie smiled as Memo gave her another hug, breathing in her grandmother’s smell of tobacco and cinnamon. Memo squeezed her shoulder with spindly fingers. ‘This is amazing, my love.’

Josie beamed. ‘I’m just so glad you all came.’

Helen scoffed a little. ‘Of course we did, darling. What did you expect?’ She was totally in her element, sipping her warm white wine like it was the most expensive champagne. ‘And it’s turning out to be quite the event, isn’t it?’

Memo stroked Josie’s hair, while her grandad gave her an awkward, one-armed pat – he’d never been one for overt displays of affection, but Josie could tell he was pleased, and he’d asked her a stream of questions about the different photos when they’d first arrived, which told her everything.

‘We’re just so proud of you,’ Memo said. And they’d been so supportive when she’d told them she was going to do the course. Memo had offered to help pay for her accommodation, but Josie had refused – they were both retired and had better things to spend their money on, like bills. So she’d told them to come to the show at the end instead. For money, she’d taken a part-time job as a waitress in the evenings and weekends, which had been reminiscent of her teenage years, and shared a flat with two other girls, who she’d barely seen because she was hardly ever there, and when she was there she was holed up in her room sleeping. She didn’t think she’d ever been this exhausted – or this happy.

Her grandad broke into a hacking cough and Josie frowned at him. ‘Are you ok?’ When he just waved at her, she pressed on. ‘Is it a cold? Have you had your flu jab?’

‘Oh, stop worrying,’ he said affectionately, as the cough subsided. ‘I’m hardier than I look.’ But it was an uncomfortable reminder that they were both getting older – and something cold fluttered around her heart at the thought.

Memo brought her attention back around with a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. ‘Your mum and dad would be proud of you too, my Josie.’

‘I hope that’s true.’

‘Course it is,’ grunted her grandad. ‘They’d think you were brave, going after something you love.’

‘Malcolm would have adored this,’ Helen agreed. ‘He was so proud of you when you rode your first bike – something every child accomplishes, so I can’t imagine how awful he’d be here, showing off to everyone.’ She flashed Josie a wicked smile over the rim of her wine glass.

Josie smiled at them both, even though her heart twisted ever so slightly. It was another moment where she wished they were there, to see what she’d chosen to do, to see the person she’d become.

‘You must come and visit us soon,’ Memo said, searching in her skirt pocket for something. Memo always wore skirts with pockets – it was something Josie had always admired. ‘I know you’re busy this Christmas, but after that.’

‘I will,’ Josie promised, trying to push aside the twinge of guilt. Her grandparents hadn’t said anything, but she wondered if there was a part of them that was hurt or offended that she’d gone to Helen’s rather than to them when she came back from New York. Helen hadn’t asked her why either, had immediately said yes to the company, but the truth was Josie hadn’t been able to bear the thought of spending that length of time there, even as she felt cowardly because of it.

‘Right, I’m off to have a quick ciggy,’ said Memo, and Josie frowned.

‘You shouldn’t. I thought you were giving up.’

Memo waved a hand in the air. ‘The damage is already done, my love.’ From the look on Helen’s face she, too, wanted to say something to her mother about that, though Josie couldn’t help seeing the irony there, given no one could tell Helen to stop indulging in the things she loved, either.

Josie watched Memo leave the room, wrapping her coat tight around her, while her grandad waved at Bia from across the room. Then Geoffrey descended on them with a flourish. ‘Terribly sorry all, but I need to steal Josie away for a moment.’ He grabbed her upper arm with a firm grip, as if daring her to argue. Out of the corner of her eye, Josie saw Helen, who was a good ten years older than Geoffrey, eyeing him up speculatively. To Josie’s surprise, he didn’t balk from the look, but gave Helen a little smile, bowed his head. Then marched Josie off across the stone floor.

‘I want to introduce you to someone,’ he said as they approached one of her photographs, then tapped someone – presumably the someone, on the shoulder. A woman, slightly older than Josie, tanned and with sun-streaked blonde hair, turned, raised one eyebrow. ‘Charlotte – this is Josie.’