Page 120 of Somewhere Only We Know

What a sweetheart he was. He was so worthy of somebody’s love. But I understood how he felt and my heart ached for him. ‘Think of it like this. Life is made up of chapters. Some people will appear all the way through while others will only be in a few of them. The chapter with Brontë has ended, but it’s not the end of your story, not by a long way. She’ll always be there; you can look back at the time you had and know that she loved you and that you made each other happy. But don’t be afraid to start a new chapter. Don’t miss out on what life has waiting for you on the next page.’

‘That’s cool, thank you.’ He cleared his throat. ‘And you wouldn’t mind?’

‘Oh, Harry,’ I said, my voice thickening. ‘Why would I mind? You deserve to be happy. Everyone does.’

There was silence for a moment and then, ‘You’re right. Okay, I’m doing it, I’m asking her out on a date. As soon as she gets back from Bali.’

‘Or,’ I suggested, knowing how pleased Lola was going to be. ‘You could message her now and ask her; make the date for a couple of weeks’ time. Give you both something to look forward to.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ he said. ‘Have you seen your Instagram recently, you’ve got loads—’

‘I know, I know.’ I laughed. ‘Everyone keeps telling me.’

‘There’s a travel company trying to get hold of you. They’ve commented on your last post multiple times. They are super interested. Check your DMs.’

‘Yes, boss! I’ll look now.’

‘Lovely boy,’ I said, ending the call.

‘Our daughter made good choices with men, then?’ Jackson asked.

I smiled at him, enjoying the chance to talk about her. ‘She did. She learned from her mother.’

He started to laugh and focused his gaze on the road. ‘I didn’t doubt it for a second.’

I opened up Instagram on my phone. ‘Right, I’d better see what all the fuss is about … Oh my goodness!’

Since the last time I’d checked, my followers had leapt to thirty thousand. I scrolled in amazement through the hundreds of comments on my last couple of posts.

‘What is it?’ Jackson asked, trying to squint at my screen.

I told him about Harry’s Instagram account and how he’d started helping people who were struggling with grief and that he’d tagged me in one of his pictures along with the Mum’s Gap Year hashtag.

‘I posted that I’d lost Brontë’s book and asked people to look out for it, not thinking for a moment that it would help me to find it.’

‘But it did, huh?’ Jackson grinned, ‘and now you’re Instagram famous, as Lola put it.’

‘Apparently so. I think older women taking a gap-year-style trip has fired a lot of people’s imaginations. The travel market is geared towards young people taking these life-changing trips to far-flung places, but there’s a lot to be said for letting go of your responsibilities for a while and enjoying some freedom from everyday life.’

‘Is that what you’re doing?’

‘Now that Brontë’s gone, I don’t have any responsibilities to let go of,’ I admitted. ‘Not even a dog. This trip started as a way to honour Brontë. There were things she wanted to do, places she wanted to go and people she wanted to meet. Since she could no longer go, I decided to go in her place with this itinerary as my guide.’

He gave me an appraising look. ‘That’s really cool, you know. And you’re glad you did?’

‘Oh yeah. I was stuck in a rut, telling myself I was dealing with my grief by accepting it and getting on with life. But I wasn’t dealing with it at all. If anything, I was in denial. I wouldn’t even let people at work mention her name.’

‘That doesn’t sound healthy.’

‘I’ve learned a lot about myself in the last few months. I’m going to be making some changes when I get back. Starting with finding things that set my soul on fire.’

The thought of going back to the UK made my stomach flip and I fell silent, mulling over what lay ahead for me when I got home. At the moment, the answer was: not much. But I was going to be a trustee for Tiff, which I was excited about, and I was planning to do more travelling. I was determined to take this new energy back home with me and stay open to where life took me.

‘I liked what you said to Harry about chapters and turning over a new page. I can tell you studied psychology. You always said you wanted to be an expert in human behaviour.’

‘But I didn’t finish my degree. Once I knew I was pregnant, I had to start earning money. And I wouldn’t have been able to sit my exams anyway: Brontë was born in May.’

Jackson swore under his breath. ‘I’m sorry, that sucks. I wish … It’s no good me wishing things could have been different because they weren’t, but it’s a shame you had to quit. Couldn’t your parents have helped?’