When I Knew You Page 11

  Ash pinched her finger and thumb together. “Just a teensy bit,” she said.

  Nat laughed. Her heart slowed.

  “So I’ll see you tomorrow?” Ash asked. “Depending on what delights Livvy has for us.”

  Nat moved as she pushed herself away from the sink.

  “I’ll open my letter tonight,” Nat said, “then text you later.”

  They both made for the door. A jumble of voices fought to be heard in Nat’s head. She held the door open for Ash.

  “Although…” Nat went through the door.

  “Although?” Ash followed her.

  “You could bring your letter over to mine tonight?” Her words were out before she knew it. It was madness, she knew. Spending time with Ash was madness. “We could open them together.”

  Nat was surprised at her boldness. She was even more surprised at Ash’s reply.

  “I couldn’t think of anything I’d love to do more,” Ash said.

  Chapter Ten

  Ash could barely wait to get back to her hotel so she could talk to Gabe. She needed to hear his voice, to listen to his practicality, and for him to tell her it was perfectly normal that two old lovers could actually hang out with one another and—heaven forbid—be civil to one another.

  So why couldn’t she stop thinking that going over to Nat’s later was one huge mistake?

  London, everything about it—Nat, Chloe, and this whole wish-list experience—was lunacy. She was away from home; personalities sometimes changed away from their normal environment, right? People did things they would never dream of.

  Like going round to your ex’s late at night.

  An ex you still have feelings for, even though you won’t admit it to yourself.

  Ash threw herself down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling of her room, seeking patterns around the light fitting. She dialled Gabe’s number, contentment spreading over her like a warm blanket when she heard him answer.

  “How’s it going, chicken?”

  Ash nestled her head back into her pillow. “It’s been crazy,” she said. “I can’t wait to come home tomorrow night.” Wasn’t that the truth?

  “So what have you been up to?” Gabe asked. “Your texts have been…vague.” He chuckled.

  “Eating, mostly.” Ash smiled up to the ceiling. “Lunches, dinners, afternoon teas at swanky hotels.”

  “Swanky hotels?” Gabe sounded impressed. “I hope you brushed your hair.”

  “I’m going over to Nat’s tonight.” Even as she said it, it sounded wrong.

  “Ooh, that’s an unexpected development.”

  “We’re getting on okay, actually,” Ash said, “which I think is a surprise to both of us.”

  “No awkwardness?”

  “Oh, loads to start with.” Ash frowned. “Mostly from me. Then I realized I was being a jerk, figured the best way to get through my time with her was to thaw out a little and then…” She hesitated. “We sort of started to get on okay.”

  “And so it’s a cosy dinner chez Braithwaite tonight?”

  “No.” Ash looked at her empty McDonald’s box. “Nothing like that. I’m just going over to open Livvy’s next letter with her.” She pulled in a long breath, then exhaled slowly. “Gabe?”

  “Yuh-huh?”

  “It’s okay for me to want to go to Nat’s, isn’t it?” Ash frowned. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, right?”

  Gabe laughed loudly, forcing a smile from Ash. “Honey, it’s totally okay,” he said. “I’m guessing she asked you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So she wants to hang out with you,” Gabe said. “You think she’s sitting at home right now, fretting like you are about whether she should have asked you or not?”

  “Doubt it.”

  “Well then.”

  “It feels…I don’t know.” Ash sighed. “Odd. Reconnecting with her after all this time, you know?”

  “Remember I used to go out with a guy called Danny, years ago?” Gabe asked.

  “Mm.”

  “And remember how cut up I was when he ended it?”

  “How could I forget?” Gabe, usually the life and soul of the party, had hid himself away for weeks. Retreated to his cottage, refusing to answer her calls, until in desperation Ash had called the police. Gabe was found sitting, wrapped in a blanket, a plethora of empty whisky bottles strewn at his feet, watching Kramer vs. Kramer with the lights off.

  “I thought I’d never get over him,” Gabe said. “Thought I could never walk down the street again in case I bumped into him.”

  “I wasn’t cut up like that over Nat,” Ash lied. “It was totally different.”

  “That’s as maybe,” Gabe said. “What I’m trying to say—badly—is that pretty much everyone at some point in their lives will have to see, speak to, and interact with an ex. I met Danny again a few years later and I survived it. We had coffee together, and it felt like the most unnatural thing in the world to do, but I did it and I got completely confused over him all over again, because spending time with an ex will always stir up a myriad of emotions and memories and regrets and all those other nasty little things that having an ex stirs up.”

  “You should be a psychiatrist.”

  “I’ll send you my invoice later.”

  “So it’s okay to go over?”

  “I already told you. It’s totally okay.”

  “You’re the best.”

  “I know. That’s why you love me.”

  ❖

  Travelling on the Tube, Ash thought as she studied the map, should be like riding a bicycle. Once mastered, you never forgot how to do it. Seventeen years away from London, though, made her feel like a tourist again. She’d navigated her way successfully around central London over the last few days with just a few wrong stops along the way. Nat’s apartment, however, was proving far trickier to get to.

  Her route finally understood, Ash sat on the first of the requisite four trains needed to get her to the remote pocket north of the Thames, where Nat would be waiting for her.

  Gabe’s words followed her. She’d been reassured by what he’d said, so why did the persistent shadow of doubt follow her too? Ash put her hand on her jacket pocket, feeling Livvy’s letter inside. This was what it was all about—what everything had been about. It was important to remember that the London trip wasn’t about meeting Nat again, or getting confused over her again. It was for Chloe.

  Besides, getting confused over Nat would get her nowhere. Ash knew the best thing she could possibly do right now was put her feelings to the back of her head, remember how Nat had treated her when she was eighteen, and remind herself that Nat was still the ambitious, successful girl she always was. To keep her at arm’s length and not get caught up in her emotions was the only—and best—thing Ash could possibly do.

  Her fingers touched her phone, next to Livvy’s letter. She pulled it out and texted Nat: Running late. Took me forever to work out route at Charing Cross! Out of practice ;) see you later.

  It was only polite, she figured. She put her phone back into her pocket, pulling it out again when she felt it vibrate against her palm as she waited on the platform for train number two.

  You’ve been away from London too long! Don’t stress. See you when I see you xxx

  Kisses. Ash stared at them. They were new. She liked how they looked, next to Nat’s name. Liked the feeling they gave her.

  Keep her at arm’s length.

  Ash stuffed her phone hastily back into her pocket and shook her head. She looked up and scrutinized the underground map in front of her. The adverts to the left and right of it too. Anything to take away the image of those three kisses, because thinking of kisses really wasn’t a good idea right now.

  ❖

  Ash was late. That was okay, though. It gave Nat more time to get her brain used to the idea that she would be stepping in through her door anytime now. Gave her heart a chance to slow, knowing that Ash would soon be with her, in her personal space. Alone.


  “I know, I know.” Nat bent down and scooped up her rabbit with one hand. She smoothed his ears flat against his head. “When was the last time anyone outside of work came here? Maddie included?” His ears sprang back up, compelling Nat to smooth them back down again. She walked to his crate in the corner of her lounge and placed him inside it, shutting the door behind him. “And if you catch me talking to you when Ash is here, shoot me.”

  Nat straightened up at the sound of the intercom. Her blood thrummed warm under her skin as nerves tapped out a steady beat.

  Keep calm.

  “Hey.” She spoke into the intercom’s handset. “Come on up.”

  The time it took Ash to come up the four floors to Nat’s apartment stretched like elastic. Even though she was ready for her when she eventually knocked on her door, Nat still felt tense.

  “You found me eventually, huh?” Nat opened the door. “It’s not the easiest route up here. The Metropolitan Line’s not the prettiest either, is it?” She stepped to one side. “A change here, a change there.” She swallowed. “Nightmare.”

  Ash came past her and stood, silently, in her lounge. Nat watched as she glanced around her, taking in her surroundings, and smiled.

  “It was okay,” Ash finally said. “Just took a bit of working out.”

  “Is it still warm?” Nat’s brain floundered. “Outside, I mean.”

  “It’s nice, yes,” Ash said, touching her jacket. “Warm enough for just this.”

  “Drink?”

  The look on Ash’s face was tangible.

  “Beer, if you have it,” Ash said.

  “You never did like wine, did you?”

  “Hmm. No, not really.”

  The woodenness of their conversation hung between them, filling the room. Nat gestured for Ash to go further into the lounge, then made for the kitchen.

  “You have a bunny.”

  Nat poked her head out from the kitchen to see Ash walking towards the crate.

  “I couldn’t bear to keep a cat locked up in an apartment all day,” Nat said, “dogs need walking, and fish are boring.” She joined Ash at the crate, bringing with her a bottle of beer and a glass of wine. “It’s not ideal, but Smudge here seemed like the best option.”

  Ash took her beer, thanked Nat, then took a long drink. “I needed that,” she said.

  “Tube really that bad?”

  “Worse.”

  Ash crossed to the window, raising a hand to her eyes to shield them from the low sun. “This is a nice room,” she said.

  “It gets the evening sun.” Nat joined her, her own glass of wine in her hand. “Not much of a view though, even though we’re four floors up. But you can just about see the tip of The Shard if you peer between those buildings there.” She pointed to a spot somewhere towards Ash’s right.

  They stood close. Ash leaned her face closer to the window, trying to see where Nat was pointing. Nat watched as her eyes darted then finally locked on to it.

  “I see it. The sun’s glinting off the glass.” Ash moved back, almost, Nat thought, as if she was suddenly aware of their proximity. “Very nice.”

  Nat motioned for Ash to take a seat. “You’re out of practice,” Nat said. “The Tube?”

  “Not too many trains in my corner of Cornwall.” Ash sat down. “Thank goodness.”

  “You like it there?”

  “Cornwall?”

  “Mm.” Nat took a small sip of wine. “And your little corner in particular.”

  “I love it.” Ash sank back onto Nat’s sofa. “I love everything about it.”

  “You said you live alone?”

  “Yup. Just me and the dog.”

  “Called?”

  “Widgeon.”

  “Nice.”

  “He seems to like it.”

  A silence skittered across the room.

  Think of something to say.

  Nat moved in her chair, then drank back some more wine. “Beer okay?”

  “Fine. Great.” Ash paused. “Thanks.”

  “Are you hungry?” Nat asked.

  “No, I…yeah,” Ash said, “starving.”

  “That’s a relief.” Nat stood. “I got a few bits and pieces in,” she said, throwing a look towards the kitchen to the array of foods bought hastily on her way back from Claridge’s, despite telling herself not to make too much of a fuss. “You know. Just in case.”

  ❖

  Nat’s apartment was spartan, Ash concluded. Beautifully and tastefully decorated, but with the hint of being the sort of place that someone didn’t spend much time in. She flicked a gaze about her, skimming the magnolia walls, the mantelpiece with the few things on it perfect and neat. To the plush curtains and expensive dining suite by the window. It was all typical Nat—sophisticated yet unpretentious.

  There were no photos or paintings anywhere though, Ash noticed. Nothing to give a visiting stranger—such as herself—any hint as to the character of the person living there. Every house or apartment had something, even if it was just a small print hanging above a fireplace, a piece of colour or texture to break up the monotony of the walls. Nat’s had nothing.

  In her mind’s eye, she wandered to her own cottage, so full of colour and chaos. The contrast with Nat’s apartment was stark, and Ash knew which she preferred.

  “Your apartment’s way tidier than mine.” Ash voiced her thoughts. “My place is a muddled mixture of dogs and boat parts.” She turned and smiled as Nat appeared to her in the doorway, a tray of food in her hands.

  “My apartment’s always going to be one of those places,” Nat said, coming further into the room, “that’s never going to be finished.”

  Ash leaned forward in her seat and cleared a space on the table in front of her as Nat approached. She sat back again, then waited as Nat set the tray down in front of her.

  “You still like dim sum, I hope?” Nat asked.

  Ash’s heart pulled a little. Each plate had been beautifully arranged with little parcels with small sprigs of something green that Ash couldn’t immediately identify in between as a garnish. Ash, wishing she’d not bothered with her McDonald’s, knew this wasn’t simply something Nat had thrown together in a hurry. It was clear she’d taken the time and trouble to make it look appetizing and special.

  Ash’s heart pulled a little more.

  “I love dim sum.” She looked up and smiled at Nat. “Especially the prawn ones.”

  “I remembered.” Nat looked pleased as she sat back down. “You’ll like these then.” She waved a hand towards one of the plates. “Prawn and—”

  “Coriander?” Ash widened her eyes.

  “Coriander.” Nat sank back, laughing, her laugh matched by Ash’s. “I know what you like.”

  “I’m grateful.” Ash nodded. “You really shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble though.”

  “It was no trouble.” Nat looked at Ash, then drew her gaze away.

  “It doesn’t look unfinished.” Ash finally spoke again. She looked around her. “Your apartment. It looks…nice.”

  Nice but characterless.

  “I moved here eight years ago.” Nat smiled. “Half my boxes are still in the spare room, still waiting to be unpacked.”

  “After eight years?” Ash raised her brows. “You don’t believe in rushing things, do you?” At Nat’s gesture towards the tray of food, she took a plate and placed two small parcels onto it.

  “Work,” Nat said, mirroring Ash’s actions, “got in the way.”

  “Of course,” Ash said quietly, “your work.” She sensed a shift in her own demeanour at the mention of Nat’s work.

  “I’m never here,” Nat said.

  Ash might have guessed. She bit into a parcel, cupping her hand under her chin to catch some bits as they fell. Nat’s work was at the core of everything in her life. No change there, then.

  Ash nodded, her mouth too full to answer.

  “There’s no such thing as a nine-to-five in what I do,” Nat added.

&n
bsp; And whose fault is that?

  Ash chased the thought away. Nat had done all this for her. Why argue?

  “I’m never here,” Nat repeated. “Often it’s past midnight when I get back.” She frowned. “It’s tough sometimes.”

  “You chose that path, though,” Ash said, wishing she’d been able to ignore the argumentative voice in her head. “You chose to dedicate your life to your work.” She paused. “At the expense of everything and everyone.”

  “I did.”

  Ash was poking at a hornets’ nest, she knew. But the devil in her didn’t want to stop. “So you can hardly complain now if it’s a grind.”

  “No,” Nat replied, “I can’t really complain.”

  Ash chewed thoughtfully on her food, wondering why Nat was refusing to disagree with her, like she had in the restaurant the night before. It was both impressive and frustrating, Ash thought. And way more mature than Ash was acting.

  “Although…”

  Ash looked up.

  “Although…?” She prompted.

  “Sometimes I imagine giving it all up to go and live in a tent somewhere,” Nat said. Her laugh was light, but Ash noted a certain hollowness behind it.

  “Seriously?” Ash asked.

  “No.” Nat frowned. “I’m joking. Some more?” She gestured to the plates.

  Ash took the smallest piece from the plate and placed it onto her own plate, not quite able to force another morsel down. She’d sensed a note of something in the delivery of Nat’s no which she just couldn’t put her finger on. Knowing she shouldn’t keep asking, but unable to stop, she asked, “But you enjoy it. Your work.” The question came out more as a statement than a question.

  To Ash’s surprise, Nat didn’t answer her immediately.

  “I don’t know,” Nat said. “It’s just…”

  Ash saw that Nat’s gaze was distant, her fingers absently working the cuff of her shirt, her expression blank. Nat opened her mouth to say more, then stopped, and Ash knew whatever it was Nat wanted to say was now gone, withdrawn back inside to the place where unwanted thoughts hid. Why was she reluctant to talk about it? Ash had assumed she’d be bubbling over with enthusiasm at having the opportunity to talk about her love of her work, like Ash would if prompted about her own business.