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He nodded. Holding hands, which we do often, we passed beneath it.
‘I’m OK,’ he said. ‘Honestly, I’m fine.’
‘You’re doing great. Really great.’
The viaduct was on our left then as we walked up the grassy slope. We looked up, shielding our eyes with our hands. He pointed to the top, to where he had been.
‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ I said.
‘So am I.’
As we headed up the hill, the arches receded into the distance, becoming steadily smaller. We climbed over the stile, and seconds later the viaduct was out of sight: behind us, where we left it.
Neither of us said a word.
At a certain point, we took the tiny track that heads up and right, past a few beautiful farmhouses, which we fantasised about buying. Along the edge of a wheat field, over another stile, and we were heading down then into the undercliff.
‘I just can’t understand why I ever thought she’d changed,’ Sam said as we clambered down the thin track past Chimney Rock. He’d said this so many times, but I guessed he’d have to say it until he no longer needed to. It wasn’t for me to tell him when was enough.
Close behind him and focusing on my feet, I answered with a version of what I usually say: ‘Because that’s all she showed you. Any gut feelings you had, you passed off as coming from a time before you’d worked things out.’
‘I thought wehadworked things out. I thought things were different this time.’
‘There was no reason for you to think otherwise.’
‘But when I think about it now, I realise I always felt tense around her,’ he said, walking a little ahead where the track narrows.
This was new; I hadn’t heard him say this before.
‘I didn’t want to admit it to myself until… well, until now, but actually I was always worried she was angry with me or about to be, or that I’d messed up.’ He stopped and turned to look up the track, where I was walking down towards him. ‘I never feel like that with you, Mimes. With you, I never feel like I’ve done something wrong. I feel… relaxed, I suppose. I feel safe.’
I pretended to find my footing on the erratic, root-knuckled ground. I was glad of course, but secretly I wondered if that meant he would never feel anything beyond friendship for me. Feeling safe was pretty far from having the hots for someone, wasn’t it?
But then he stopped again – so suddenly I almost fell into his back.
‘Mimes.’ He looked up at me and then down at his hiking boots. ‘Do you think I’ll ever find…’ He shook his head. ‘Forget it.’
I laughed. ‘Ever find love again? Is that what you were going to say? It’s only been a few months, mate. Give it a chance!’
He laughed. ‘Sorry, ignore me.’
And I had no idea what it was, but there was something about the way… I don’t know, the way he was standing, the way he was looking and not looking at me, the way his cheeks had gone red –something, and I just thought:go for it, you know? Life is short. How will he ever know if I don’t tell him? If he doesn’t feel the same, I’ll just have to brazen it out until it blows over. Because that was the thing, that was the real fear: losing my chance was one thing, but I could not bear to lose his friendship.
‘I think you’ll find love,’ I said before he could move off again. I reached for his hand, caught the ends of his fingers with mine. ‘I mean, you have found it. With me, I mean. Me and Bets. We love you.’
He met my gaze then and did not look away. Neither of us did. My legs started to tremble. ‘Do you mean love me orlovelove me?’
‘Eloquent. I can tell you read a lot. I mean… well, Bets loves you obviously. Whereas I…’ I couldn’t meet his eye any longer, so I stared at my boots instead. ‘I, er,lovelove you. I mean, I have for ages. I wanted to tell you before, but I couldn’t because… well, you know.’ I glanced up, cringing.
His mouth opened, closed. He looked horrified, and regret ballooned in my chest. I wanted to take the words back and stuff them down my stupid throat.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said. ‘You don’t need to do anything about it or anything. We can still be friends. It’ll wear off, I’m sure.’
‘But I didn’t think you liked me that way,’ he replied, taking a firmer hold of my hand. In sympathy, I supposed. ‘I never… You’re, like, a professional. You’re clever. And you’re way too lovely for—’
‘Don’t sayway too lovely for me– that would be pathetic.’ I laughed, embarrassed to the roots of my hair. Joking, that was how I would extricate myself from this stupid conversation I should never have started.
‘But you know what I mean.’
