When I Knew You Read online

  “Jack. Good to see you.” Nat stepped away. “How’s things?”

  “Never mind, how’s things,” Jack said. “You’re supposed to be on a sabbatical, aren’t you? Before the big plunge over the Irish Sea?”

  “What can I say?” Nat sensed her confidence waver. “Couldn’t stay away.” She glanced down the corridor, eager to escape to the sanctuary of her office. After all, hadn’t that been the reason she’d come here? So she could hide away in her room on the pretext of working? Anything had to be better than staying at home, constantly chewing things over about Ash.

  “Bloody hell, Natalie.” Jack’s voice boomed around her. “If I was offered over two weeks away from this place, I’d bite their hands off.” He laughed, eliciting a forced smile from Nat.

  A tightness gripped Nat’s stomach. Jack was right; she’d been lucky to have been offered so much time off—to gather her thoughts and indulge in a little research before taking up her prospective new post, they’d said—and in any other circumstances, she would have done.

  In any other circumstances before Ash, that was.

  “I figured…” Nat’s brow creased. What had she figured in the forty-eight hours since Ash had left? That her life now had a huge hole in it that only Ash could fill? That, overnight, Nat had begun to think her whole life was futile? That what she did was pretty useless if she wasn’t happy? Nat’s frown deepened. “I figured it would be quieter here, Jack. The noise from the traffic outside my apartment is intolerable sometimes.”

  “Well,” Jack said, “anyone who chooses to come to this place on a Saturday afternoon deserves a coffee at the very least.” He put his hand on Nat’s shoulder. “Let me treat you. It’ll taste like shit as usual, but at least you won’t have paid for it.”

  Jack strode off down the corridor, Nat meekly following him. She pitched a look back over her shoulder, back down to her office, wanting to disappear in there, close the door, and make everyone leave her alone. Her feet, however, refused to obey.

  The canteen was, as she expected, quiet when they arrived there. Visiting time in the hospital wasn’t for another few hours, so the few people who remained at their tables were predominantly hospital staff. Nat made her way through the maze of tables, raising a hand to a few faces she recognized, the now-accustomed chill inside her at the prospect of starting over somewhere new, with new people, returning with each comforting note of familiarity at seeing her colleagues’ faces.

  Nat stood quietly next to Jack as he ordered coffees, then led them both to a table in the far corner. As Jack eased himself into the seat opposite her, Nat’s phone hummed inside her jacket pocket. Smiling at Jack, she pulled it out, trying to demonstrate a nonchalance she certainly didn’t feel. It had to be Ash. It just had to be. Ash hadn’t contacted her since she’d left London; nothing had been said about Nat and Chloe’s impending arrival the next day, almost as if it didn’t matter to her. And as the hours had stretched by, and the silence from Ash had grown, that was precisely what Nat had gauged from Ash’s behaviour: their visit plainly wasn’t a priority for her. For Nat, though, it had been all she’d been able to think about, even before Ash had left.

  While Jack spoke, showboating about a conference he’d spoken at in New York the week before, Nat glanced at her phone.

  As you’ve opted to receive text alerts from us, we thought you’d like to know your next bill is available to view online. Just go to www…

  “Bad news?” Jack was talking to her. Had her disappointment been that evident? “I was telling you about Donald Letterman’s speech last week, but your face when you read your text…”

  Nat waved him away. “Sorry, sorry.” She hastily rammed her phone back into her pocket. “You were saying?”

  “I was just asking you if everything was okay.” Jack smiled kindly.

  “Oh, just an advance notice of yet another bill.” Nat picked up her coffee, wishing her hands wouldn’t tremble quite so much at the prospect of a text from Ash. “That’s all I seem to get these days. Bills.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s as if they know I’m moving.”

  “When’s the big day?”

  “Not settled yet,” Nat said. “I have to ring the Royal to confirm my decision. Then I guess it’ll be all systems go.” Her laugh was empty.

  “Richard’s very pleased.”

  Nat’s head sprang up. “Richard?” Richard had no right to feel anything about Nat. “What’s it got to do with him?”

  “He put in a good word about you,” Jack said, “with the bigwigs over at the Royal.”

  Nat’s insides curdled. “He shouldn’t have done that.”

  Richard had no need to interfere, Nat thought. Yes, she’d let him help her in her early career, when she’d thought she needed him, but she’d not needed Richard for over ten years now. So just why the hell did he think she did? She picked up her coffee and frowned down into the liquid inside. There’d been a time, long ago, when she’d been lost and he’d picked her up, dusted her down, and set her on her way again. But not now. Nat hadn’t needed anyone in years.

  “He had absolutely no right to interfere,” Nat repeated.

  Jack’s responding look was blithe, Nat thought.

  “He knows one of the seniors over there,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “Pinged an email over to him, telling him how marvellous you are.”

  The thought of Richard discussing her with her potential new colleague irked Nat.

  “Well, I wish he hadn’t.” She sipped at her coffee, hoping it would take the bitter taste away from her mouth. “I rather thought I’d been offered the job off my own merits.”

  “You were,” Jack said. “Richard just gave them a bit of encouragement.”

  Nat stared back down blankly into her cup. Jack’s words had stirred up her anxieties over Belfast all over again, and the knowledge that Richard might—despite Jack’s protestations—have had a hand in her getting the post felt like it had the potential to be a game-changer.

  “They can’t wait to have you on board, you know.”

  Nat lifted her eyes to Jack.

  “Who told you that?” she asked sarcastically. “Richard?”

  “Valerie Keaton. Senior Registrar over there.” Jack looked at Nat, making her feel as though she were being assessed. “Despite what you think, Richard had no hand in you actually being offered the post. His email just confirmed what they already knew. That you’re quite a coup for them.” Jack leaned closer. “According to Valerie, you were already top of their list before Richard even contacted them.”

  Nat sat back, her coffee cup still cradled in her hands. Two voices were shouting loudly to be heard inside her head: one telling her Richard’s interfering had tainted her new job, the other telling her to stop being so stupid because she could really make a name for herself over there if she could just get over herself. The coffee warmed her hands. She was a good surgeon, she knew that, and more than up to her new job. She’d outgrown St. Bart’s years ago but had never had the courage to move on, instead preferring to dedicate her spare time to research in order to stretch herself more. Despite her reservations, she knew the Royal Victoria was going to be perfect for her; there she’d finally really show everyone—herself included—just what she could do.

  “So when I said Richard was pleased,” Jack said, “all I meant was, he’s glad you’ll finally get to do what you’ve been wanting to do for ages.”

  Nat felt her shoulders ease. Her mind had run away with her, and not for the first time. Of course Richard hadn’t persuaded them to offer her the job, of course she’d got it on her own merits, and of course she was going to love it and make a success of it. She felt embarrassed at her own lack of confidence, and for even contemplating that the Royal Victoria would be too big for her. The truth was, if she could control her anxieties and constantly tell herself she was up to the job, it would absolutely be the making of her, the culmination of years of hard work and research. She would be the success she knew deep down she coul
d be. The panic attacks would fade, she was sure of it. She just had to—as Callum constantly told her—have faith in her abilities and everything would slot into place.

  And, really, there was nothing stopping her from going there and doing just that, was there? The thread that Nat had started to think was pulling her back from Belfast had slackened dramatically in the past forty-eight hours, because that thread was Ash, and she hadn’t even bothered to contact Nat once since her return home.

  While Jack talked about a paper he was researching, Nat tuned out. Heat spread across her cheeks at her own stupidity in thinking for just one second that she and Ash could rekindle something that had flickered and died, years before. Nat had been so caught up in the change of routine that Ash had brought with her to London that she’d forgotten all the promises she’d made to herself when she’d decided, months before, to leave St. Bart’s and seek something more fulfilling elsewhere.

  Ash had made it clear she was most definitely still nothing to her. And the sooner Nat drummed that into her head, the sooner she could get herself over the sea to Belfast and forget all about her again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The knot in Ash’s stomach tightened with each move of the second hand on her bedside clock. She’d been awake for a good hour before her alarm, and had lain in bed both dreading and looking forward to the day in equal measures. Now, listening to each tick that took her closer to the hour when Nat and Chloe would arrive, each one more agonizing than the last, Ash wondered whether she’d be a nervous wreck by the time their train finally pulled into Truro Station.

  Chloe had texted her the night before to tell her which train they’d both booked.

  Nat had not.

  It had been three days since Ash and Nat had had any contact with the other. Three days since Nat had told her she still loved her, and now Nat’s silence was so prolonged, it was as though it were being pulled taut like an elastic band being stretched to its limit. So many times over the preceding days Ash had wanted to text her or call her. But each time she went to formulate a message, or scrolled down to Nat’s number, something stopped her. Ash couldn’t fathom what it was, though, or why she felt she had to maintain a stubborn air of indifference, when everything inside her was hurting with longing.

  Ash rolled her head along the pillow and narrowed her eyes at her clock in the gloom of her bedroom, trying to focus on the hands: 5.30 a.m. She’d always had the ability to sleep like a child—much to the envy of the insomniac Gabe—but since her return from London, her sleep had been sporadic, and she’d spent each morning doing just as she was doing now. It didn’t take much figuring to understand why. In less than eight hours, Nat and Chloe would both be here, and Ash knew all her feelings—all these new, confusing feelings she had for Nat which she’d categorically denied to her in London but which were still frantically treading water just under the surface—would overwhelm her again the second their eyes met at the station. Despite hoping that time away from Nat would quell her feelings, all their separation had done was increase them tenfold, until Ash thought her head would explode from all the thoughts and anxieties that constantly eddied around inside it.

  Her insomnia was testament to that.

  The grey hue just behind her curtains told her it was either already raining, or just about to. Ash lay on her back and concentrated hard trying to hear it, nodding to herself in acknowledgement when she finally heard the first quiet taps on the glass. She felt cheated by the rain, annoyed that the weather couldn’t have stayed nice for Nat and Chloe’s arrival, whilst at the same time praying that it wouldn’t rain for their entire visit, confining them to her cottage with nothing to do or say to one another.

  The hardening rain began to drum a steady beat against her window. Ash locked her arms above her head and stretched, yawning loudly as she did so. The sound of her yawn elicited a thump of his tail from Widgeon, lying on the rug beside her bed, and Ash flopped an arm over, her fingers seeking his fur. She scratched at it, smiling in the dark as Widgeon let out an extended sigh, and Ash thought—and not for the first time—that her dog had always been the perfect antidote to her anxieties.

  The day ahead felt like an immensely important one to Ash, and she could only assume it was because Nat would finally be in Ash’s little sphere of existence, adding something extra to what should have ordinarily been a straightforward visit. It had to be perfect. It had to be. Ash wanted Nat to see her in her own environment, to meet her friends—well, Gabe, anyway. Perhaps the others would follow later. Despite her protestations to Gabe while she was in London, Nat’s meeting him was more important to Ash than she’d realized. Gabe was her world; she wanted him to tell her that Nat was amazing and wonderful and every other type of adjective she could think of, just so it would confirm to her what she already knew.

  Ash desperately wanted Nat to experience a snapshot of this perfect life Ash had created for herself by the sea.

  Ash turned over and buried her head in her pillow, groaning into it. Why did she have to still love Nat? What was it about her that was so different from anyone else? There had been a girl—quite a few years ago now, admittedly—who would have done anything to be with Ash, and yet Ash had pushed her away when she sensed things were getting serious. Ash blinked against the soft cotton of her pillow. Sophie. That had been her name, and she’d been the loveliest girl, and Ash had really liked her and had had a blast with her for the few months they’d dated.

  And yet…

  Ash traced a pattern on the pillow with her finger. Sophie was long gone. Fed up with waiting for a show of commitment Ash knew she’d never be able to give her. She couldn’t blame her. Why would anyone wait for Ash to make up her mind, or for Ash to stop constantly stalling whenever they talked about the future?

  The rain rapped harder against the window, now accompanied by a wind that whistled softly through the gaps in Ash’s sash windows. Lying in bed, mulling things over and over, regretting the past whilst wishing for a future that would never happen would get Ash nowhere. With a quick tug of Widgeon’s ears, Ash got up, leaving her scrambled thoughts still tangled up in the patterns on her pillow.

  ❖

  The train crept into Truro Station with a metallic screech of brakes that seemed to go on forever. Ash loitered in the doorway next to the ticket office, her pounding heart doing nothing to quell her apprehension, and watched as the train finally came to a standstill and its doors began to open. The previously quiet platform was instantly transformed into a hive of activity and noisy chatter as passengers spilled from the train and buzzed around her, embracing waiting friends and relatives, or pushed past her in their haste to get to the exit before anyone else.

  Ash looked fretfully for the familiar faces of Nat and Chloe in amongst the sea of strangers, her brain constantly reassuring her that she had the correct train, correct station, and correct platform. Finally Nat stepped down from the train. Ash watched her as she adjusted the rucksack on her back, glanced around her, her face a picture of both worry and concentration, then stepped tentatively away from the train as she sought out either Ash or the exit. Ash looked past Nat’s shoulder, watching for Chloe, but when she didn’t appear, she approached Nat, winding her way against the flow of passengers.

  When it was clear Nat still hadn’t seen her, Ash lifted her arm high above her head and jumped slightly, smiling when Nat finally spotted her. Expecting to see Chloe just behind Nat, Ash was confused when Nat strode towards her without even a backward glance.

  “You made it, then.” Ash paused awkwardly, then quickly embraced Nat. She stepped away again, stuffing her hands into her trouser pockets as if she didn’t know what to do with them.

  “I made it.” Nat laughed, slightly out of breath. “Only just though. What a morning!”

  “And…Chloe?” Ash nodded over Nat’s shoulder.

  “She texted you.”

  “No she didn’t.” Ash pulled her phone from her pocket and looked at it. “Oh. So she did.”
<
br />   “Do you ever check your phone?” Nat bumped Ash’s arm.

  “Apparently not.” Apart from checking it every five minutes since last Thursday up until eight a.m. today, hoping you might have texted me. “By the time I’d walked the dog this morning and tidied up”—Ash shrugged—“I just grabbed it and drove straight over here.”

  She looked down at Chloe’s message, sent at nine thirty that morning: Grandma’s ill. High temperature, throwing up, the whole business. Ugh. Nasty! I feel torn because I soooo want to see you, but I don’t feel as though I can leave Grandma. Nat says she’ll come on her own and that it’s totally ok. I’m so sorry :(

  “Poor Judy,” Ash murmured. She put her phone back in her pocket. “Guess it’s just me and you, then?”

  “I wondered if I should have waited until she was better and Chloe could come,” Nat said. “But these are the only two weeks I have off until I possibly have to…you know.”

  “The new job?” Ash asked. “It’s cool. It makes sense for you not to cancel.” A quiver of apprehension passed over her at the thought of spending the next four days alone with Nat. London had been a completely different ballgame; the vastness of London had allowed them both their space, and more importantly, Chloe had been their go-between—the common factor either could go to if needed. Now, it would be just Ash and Nat, and the thought of them being alone together was met by Ash with a mixture of excitement and worry. “Shall we?” She motioned to the station exit.

  They walked in silence, each apparently lost in her own thoughts and slight shyness at being around the another again. It would be fine, Ash said to herself. Gabe could take the place of Chloe if necessary. Her anxiety abated. If she felt as though she was getting too cosy being alone with Nat, or so close she might do something she knew she’d regret, she’d just ask Gabe along to act as a chaperone. Simple.