AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘And nothing.’ She gazes at me. ‘I haven’t seen him again. I’m not fussed, to be honest. I mean, I like him…’ A frown crosses her face. ‘But since then, my head has been all over the place. For one thing, I deliberately didn’t take a call from one of the magazines I work for. I absolutely never do that.’ She pauses. ‘It’s like I have SAD or something. There’s this heavycloud hanging over me. I don’t want to get up in the mornings. I don’t have any tolerance for day-to-day trivia.’ She’s silent for a moment. ‘I really don’t feel like myself.’
‘You’re probably right and it’s the end of winter blues,’ I try to reassure her. ‘You need some sun.’
‘I definitely need the sun, that much I do know.’ Her words are heartfelt. ‘And I don’t want to get used to these dark English winters.’ She shakes her head. ‘Surely you must get fed up with them?’
‘Not really.’ I shrug. ‘I love how the seasons change.’ The optimism of spring, the relief of autumn after summer’s heat. I don’t even mind the rain. ‘Winter’s…’ I search for the word. ‘It’s cosy.’
Marnie looks distant. ‘I like the whole log fires and cosy pub thing. But other than that, everything’s better in the sun.’
‘Not for everyone,’ I say fervently. I find heat oppressive, while my fair skin burns rather than tans.
Sighing, she shakes her head. ‘I sometimes wonder if I made a mistake coming back. When I wasn’t writing, I used to help out some friends who had a tapas bar. It was a proper shack on the beach, a year-round place, with a cool vibe. Even at this time of year, the sun shines…’ She sounds regretful. ‘But now I’m here, I may as well make the most of it.’ She pauses. ‘I’m starving. D’you fancy getting something to eat?’
Over Arundel’s finest pizza, I decide that maybe letting people in – the right people; people I know I can trust – isn’t such a bad thing.
‘It’s ages since I’ve done anything like this,’ I confess.
She raises an eyebrow. ‘What? Eat pizza?’
‘I mean, go out.’ I can’t help smiling.
She fixes her eyes on me. ‘How long, exactly?’
My cheeks flush. ‘For about a whole two and a half years.’
‘Rae!’ She sounds outraged. ‘What have you been doing with yourself?’
‘There were reasons,’ I say defensively, swallowing the lump in my throat before pinning on a smile. ‘Part of it was to do with a terrible relationship. Only at the time, I didn’t know it was terrible – and I have no idea why.’
‘Tell me about it.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘The relationship I left wasn’t terrible, though, which makes it worse in some ways. I mean, I knew it wasn’t right. But I did nothing about it, which amounts to years of wasted time for which the only person to blame is myself.’
My jaw drops open. ‘How can you say it was wasted? You lived in Spain, you travelled… You followed your dreams.’
She looks at me ruefully. ‘I guess I did, didn’t I?’ She shakes her head, a light flickering in her eyes. ‘For frick’s sake. Thank you, Rae. I really do need to wake up to myself.’ She raises her glass, chinking it against mine. ‘Cheers!’
As each of us let our defences down, we tell each other about our families. The parents I lost who I still miss desperately; Marnie’s estranged mother, the father who left when she was too young to remember him. I discover there’s comfort in sharing what I’ve kept to myself. It seems the same for Marnie.
‘In many ways, you were lucky,’ she says. ‘I know it’s awful that you’ve lost your parents, but at least you know what it’s like to have a family. Mine…’ She shudders. ‘My mother never really cared about me. She should never have had me – or should have given me up for adoption. But she never thinks of anyone but herself.’
I try to imagine her mother’s side. ‘Maybe she was trying her best.’
Marnie shoots me a look. ‘Believe me. All my life, she’s never once put herself out for me. I had my uses – don’t get me wrong.I elevated her victim status, no question. I was also a means for her to access more benefits. But that was as far as it went.’
I stare at her. I like to believe that given a chance, even the most troubled of people have good inside them. ‘When did you last try getting in touch with her?’
‘A few months back – when Finn and I broke up. Want to know what she said?’ Marnie shakes her head. ‘She told me I was an adult. It wasn’t for her to get involved and I needed to sort my life out.’ Her voice wavers just slightly. ‘I don’t know why I bothered. She sounded drunk. It’s probably the only way she can live with herself.’
I’m shocked. Mine would never in a million years have said anything like that. ‘It isn’t your fault. You do know that, don’t you?’ I say fiercely.
‘When you’re a child, it doesn’t matter, does it?’ Marnie’s eyes are sad as she looks at me. ‘You look at all the children born into close, loving families…’ She shrugs. ‘I ended up thinking I didn’t deserve one. That there was something different about me. Something my mother saw in me as a child that made her turn to alcohol.’
‘No way.’ I can’t believe she’s blaming herself for her mother’s alcohol problem.
‘Would it really be so odd?’ Tearing off a piece of garlic bread, her voice wavers. ‘I’ve never felt like I belonged anywhere. I’ve often thought it’s why I’ve travelled so much. Most of my life, it’s like I’ve been either running away or I’ve been waiting for something.’
For a while, I knew how it felt to be without roots. ‘Maybe you haven’t found the right place yet.’
Picking up our bottle of wine, she tops up our glasses. ‘Maybe. But I keep thinking other people don’t feel like that.’ She frowns. ‘I don’t know. Maybe there’s something wrong with me.’
