When I Knew You Page 5

  So, you and Ash choose a day, choose a time, and get punting.

  Love you, Crackles.

  Livvy xxx

  Nat rested her head on the back of the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. Oxford. She hadn’t even been able to keep that promise, either. Oh, she could have gone if she’d wanted. Her exams results would have allowed her to be first through their doors. So were Livvy’s. But everything changed over that summer. Plans that were made were blown to dust. Three friends had parted. Had Livvy been disappointed? Sure, she and Livvy had had words over Ash, but if Livvy had been upset at the whole Oxford thing, she’d never let on in any of her emails in the years that followed. Livvy had headed to Oxford as she’d planned, but without her two best friends, had aced her exams, become a barrister, and said she’d never been happier. Nat, however, had headed to Edinburgh, aced her own exams, but never said if she’d ever been happier. Probably because she’d been anything but happy.

  Nat frowned. She’d broken one promise—no, more than one promise—to Livvy and she wasn’t about to break this promise. Livvy wanted her to take Chloe punting in Oxford? Maddie was right; she could so do that. But she wasn’t about to do it alone, so even if it took every ounce of her trying, she’d get Ash to agree to it. For Livvy’s sake.

  Nat reached into her bag for her phone. Scrolling down until she found the number she was looking for, she dialled.

  “Mrs. Fancourt?” Nat said when Judy finally answered. “I need a phone number. I don’t know if you can help me? I need Ashley Wells’s number.”

  Chapter Four

  Ash hadn’t wanted to do it. She hadn’t wanted to search for Nat online, but she had. Even as she’d stared, unthinking, at her laptop screen, she still didn’t know what had made her do it. She’d left Judy’s house the day before and had returned to Cornwall, still stunned by Livvy’s letter, still stunned at the level of vitriol she’d aimed at Nat. Uncomfortable at the reaction that was stimulated inside her just from being in the same room as her. Now, with Nat’s photograph right in front of her, her discomfort intensified.

  Dr. Natalie Grace Braithwaite.

  She looked good. Even Ash had to admit that. There was that smile, the one that used to bewitch her so long ago and make her incapable of rational thinking. There were the beautiful dark eyes that Ash was once so hopelessly lost in, gazing back at her. Ash forced herself to look away. How many times had she looked into those eyes as a teenager? Too many.

  She shook her head and typed some keywords into Google. She knew not all of it would be fresh news to her; Livvy had, of course, told her plenty of things about Nat over the years. Had told her of her many successes, and all her promotions, none of which Ash had wanted to hear.

  Remember Nat? Livvy used to say. She got the post she wanted at St. Bartholomew’s last week. How amazing is that?

  It was always an amusement to Ash that Livvy always, without fail, started any conversation about Nat with Remember Nat?

  As if Ash could ever forget her.

  “So,” Ash now murmured, sliding her finger across her touchpad, “what have you got to tell me about her?”

  She wanted to know.

  She didn’t want to know.

  Ash looked away while Google found everything it possibly could about Dr. Natalie Grace Braithwaite. Ash knew she was crazy, dredging up a whole heap of information about her ex. But she couldn’t stop herself.

  Ash looked back. “A whole smorgasbord, it seems,” she muttered. Her brow furrowed as hit after hit appeared on the screen. Articles, YouTube clips, interviews, medical journals. All about Nat.

  At today’s afternoon session, Dr. Natalie Braithwaite will be delivering a lecture on aortic-valve stenosis. The prominent cardiologist, 35, is currently the lead researcher… Ash’s lips moved as she silently read the words in front of her, the numerous medical terms and Latin phrases washing over her head as she did so.

  She sat back in her chair, her mind spinning. Nat was outstanding. A genius. Words and letters swam in front of Ash’s eyes as she continued to pull up page after page of articles about Nat, each one lauding her more prolifically than the last.

  Ash squeezed her eyes shut. Judy was right: Nat had done it. She’d achieved everything she’d ever wanted to, and it seemed as though Nat’s actions had been for a reason all along. Her decision all those years before had been for the best—for Nat, at least. Nausea tightened Ash’s throat. All those years of bitterness on Ash’s part, and Nat had just been carrying on doing what she’d wanted. All those years Ash had pined away for her, wishing things could turn back to how they’d been, missing her more and more each day, month, and year, and what had Nat been doing? Ash’s eyes sprang open. Not missing Ash, that was for sure. No, instead, Nat had been carving out a nice little career for herself, congratulating herself on making the best decision she’d ever made.

  “Oh, your Nat’s clever.” Gabe’s voice suddenly beside Ash made her heart thump. “She’s got letters after her name, look.” His finger appeared by Ash’s ear as he waggled it at the screen. “Jeez, she’s really clever.”

  “Gabe!” Ash puffed out her cheeks. “Do you have to creep up on me all the time like that?”

  “You shouldn’t leave your door open,” Gabe said, sitting down on the sofa beside her. “And if you had a dog that barked instead of letting people step over his sleeping body, you’d be alerted to the fact you had visitors.”

  Ash felt her face flame. Busted. Another photo of Nat gradually crept down Ash’s screen as it slowly loaded, and Gabe’s glee at catching her in the act was palpable.

  “Not interested, huh?” he asked. “All in the past, huh?” He bumped her arm.

  “I got thinking,” Ash said, “that I was being childish by refusing to see Nat.”

  “So you thought you’d check her out online?”

  “I was looking for a contact number for her so I could arrange things.” Ash rolled her hand towards the screen.

  “So you’re going to respect Livvy’s wishes?”

  “Mm.”

  “Right decision, kiddo.” Gabe squeezed her forearm. “You’d only regret it if you don’t do it.”

  Regrets. Boy, didn’t she have enough of those? Ash raised her eyes to the ceiling. It was going to be horrendous, she knew, seeing Nat again and hearing how well her life had panned out.

  “And it’s more for Chloe than me. Right?” Ash said, pulling herself away from that train of thought.

  “It absolutely is,” Gabe agreed. “I should think Chloe could really use you pair right now.”

  Ash stared down at the keyboard on her lap, deep in thought. It was true. Ash had watched Chloe grow up, through Livvy’s photos and video calls over the years, from a cute-as-a-button kid into an awesome, clever, thoughtful teenager. She adored her as a surrogate niece, just as much as she knew Chloe adored her back as the auntie she’d never had. Ash had guessed, of course, that Nat had also featured in Chloe’s life. Apart from Judy, Ash and Nat were about as close a family as Chloe had right now, and Ash immediately felt a smudge of guilt at just how petulant she’d been towards Nat the day before. She’d had no right to dictate whether Chloe should or shouldn’t have the chance to fulfil her mother’s wishes, just because she hadn’t been able to cope with the thought of having to spend time with Nat again.

  “And it’s your friend’s dying wish after all,” Gabe said, as if reading Ash’s mind. “That’s got to mean something, hasn’t it?”

  “It does,” Ash said. “Which is why I’m going to contact Nat right now and tell her we should sort something out for next week.” She scanned the screen, looking for a contact number for Nat. “Chloe starts her autumn holidays in a few days, so now could be perfect.”

  “So Nat’s a cardiologist.” Gabe looked at Ash’s laptop. “That’s hearts, right?”

  “I’m trying to pretend the irony is lost on me,” Ash murmured, tapping at her keyboard.

  “That someone who broke your heart has ended up try
ing to mend others?” Gabe read her mind.

  “There’s an email address”—Ash nodded at the screen, ignoring Gabe’s comment—“for her department.” She reached past Gabe and snagged a piece of paper from the table in front of him. “And a phone number.”

  “So you’re going to do it?” Gabe handed Ash a pen.

  “For Chloe.” Ash scribbled Nat’s email address down. Her mind was made up. “And I figure the sooner I get through all this and get Nat back out of my life, the better.”

  “Well the boat tours will be winding down soon,” Gabe said. “So I say, just go for it. The sooner the better.”

  The boat.

  Ash snapped the lid of her laptop down. Suddenly she felt exhausted, both physically and emotionally. London had been a whirlwind, but now, half an hour before dusk, and knowing her boat needed her attention if she was to be back down at the harbour ready for the next morning’s tourists before all the other boat owners, her day wasn’t nearly over yet.

  Her boat was her pride and joy. And it was hers. She’d worked hard to turn her tour into the only one visitors to St. Kerryan wanted to go on, whether they were interested in wildlife or not. That was another reason she’d been so reluctant to gad about England and God knew where else.

  Ash sighed. That was unfair. Of course she wanted to fulfil Livvy’s wishes, both for Livvy’s sake as well as Chloe’s. Using the business as an excuse had been spineless of her. She knew the real reason she didn’t want to do it. Nat. Who else?

  “What did she say about it?” Gabe asked. “Nat?”

  “Oh, she seemed keen enough.” Ash shrugged. “Until I told her where she could stick it.”

  “Well that was very grown up of you.”

  “Whatever.”

  “It’ll be fine,” Gabe said. “How hard can it be? Spending the odd day with her?”

  “You don’t know how much I dislike her—”

  “I’m beginning to.”

  “—or how much what she did affected me.” Ash blinked back angry tears. “How long it took me to get over her.” Damn her. Still? She still had the ability to do this to her? She’d tried so many times over the years to put herself in Nat’s shoes and imagine what she’d been thinking when she’d spoken the words that had ended their relationship. Tried to understand the pressures Nat had been under with her parents. Tried to get inside Nat’s head.

  “So maybe doing these things with her will give you the chance to tell her just that,” Gabe said. “Make her understand how much she hurt you.”

  “The awful thing is, right now I hate Livvy too,” Ash said. “For putting me through this after all this time. This is the way my brain’s working right now. Hating my dead best friend because she had the audacity to write—on her deathbed, no less—this list that, quite frankly, I’d completely forgotten about.” She turned and faced Gabe. “Just how fucked-up a person am I if that’s the way I’m thinking?”

  “You’re not fucked-up.” Gabe circled his arm around her shoulder and drew him to her. “Livvy dying has just opened up old wounds, that’s all. Brought old memories and old girlfriends back into your life. Made you think about stuff way too much. So just do it. Maybe then you’ll stop thinking so much.”

  Ash rested her head against his shoulder.

  “You’re the best, you know that?” she said. “My voice of reason.”

  “That’s me.”

  Ash pulled her head back and looked at him. “You know, if I was straight, I’d have married you years ago.”

  Gabe kissed her forehead. “And if I was straight as well, kiddo, I’d have accepted years ago.”

  ❖

  Nat walked up the now-familiar steps, stopping at the top to adjust the lapels on her jacket, check her keys were in her bag, and then tuck her breeze-blown hair back behind her ears. It was a well-worn routine she’d done for the last few months—a way of delaying the inevitable, even if only for a few seconds.

  She entered the building, took the stairs to the second floor, then pushed open the door to the main reception. Today the receptionist with the short blond hair was at the desk. Nat preferred the older one. There was something about the way the blonde didn’t ever make proper eye contact with Nat; it was almost as if she pitied her, but that could have been Nat’s imagination.

  “I’m here for my four o’clock appointment.” Nat cleared her throat. “Braithwaite.”

  “Take a seat, Ms. Braithwaite.” The receptionist offered a hand to a waiting chair. “He’ll be with you shortly.”

  Nat snagged a magazine from a pile on a table on her way to her seat and sat down.

  Beekeepers’ Monthly.

  Nat resisted the urge to roll her eyes but opened the magazine regardless, trying to summon up some interest at the many pictures of bees inside. When the words started to blur, she glanced up at the clock on the wall: 4.05 p.m. He was late. She hated it when Callum was late. All she ever wanted when she had to endure these visits to her therapist was to be in and out and back at her apartment with the minimum of time and fuss. Nat returned to her magazine.

  The queen bee is the heart and soul of the honey bee colony…

  Defeated, Nat flopped the magazine back down and looked around her. Quite without warning, an image of Ash appeared at the edges of her consciousness, taking her by surprise. Her eyes rose to the clock again. Now 4.07. What did Ash do at 4.07 on a Wednesday afternoon in October? Nat knew Ash ran her own boat business, thanks to Livvy and her updates over the years, not to mention her constant suggestions that they should go and visit her. Nat would never have gone though, not even if Livvy had begged her. Which she hadn’t, of course. But the suggestions were always there.

  The email from Ash the previous afternoon had taken Nat by surprise. She remembered the feeling now, the unexpected butterflies at seeing Ash’s name sitting in her inbox, and shifted slightly in her chair, certain that Blond Receptionist could sense her unease.

  I’ve been thinking, Ash’s message had said, that to disappoint Chloe would be churlish when it’s her mother’s wish that we do just this one thing for her.

  A phone number had appeared at the end of the message.

  Call me.

  Nat had. The prospect of ringing Ash had sent her—what was it Callum called them?—apprehension issues rocketing to the point where it was all she could think about. It niggled at her, on an hourly—no, half-hourly—basis until she finally bit the bullet and did it.

  Their conversation had been brief. Nat had been glad, because the minute the call was over, her heart could go back to its normal pattern, her hands could stop sweating, and she could finally channel her mind onto something other than The Phone Call to Ash That I Had to Make.

  “Natalie. I’m so sorry for the delay.”

  Nat looked up at Callum’s voice. How long had he been there? She stood and shook his hand, then followed him out of the waiting room.

  “Take a seat.”

  Nat took the seat that was offered to her and placed her bag at her feet. She waited while Callum opened a window, saying something about the October weather which she didn’t quite catch, then smiled at him as he sat in the chair opposite her.

  “How’ve you been?”

  She looked at him, unsure how to answer truthfully.

  “How’ve I been?” Nat took a deep breath. “Hmm. That’s a tricky one to answer.”

  “Take your time.”

  “I’ve been using the bracelet more”—Nat lifted her hand—“because I’ve felt like I’ve needed it more.”

  “Like we’ve always talked about?” Callum said.

  “Just like we’ve talked about.”

  “And it’s helped?”

  “Mm. A bit.” Nat considered her answer. “But I’ve been feeling a whole new set of anxieties just lately.”

  “Because?” Callum asked.

  “Stuff.” Nat sighed. “Just…stuff.” She looked at him. “Work and…stuff.” What else could she call it? And did Ash slot into that va
gue category too?

  “I see.”

  She noted the frown on Callum’s brow. One step forward, two back.

  “It’s important to remember the breathing exercises too,” Callum said, “as well as the distraction methods.” He looked at her. “I know you find your bracelet works to take your mind off things, but remember listening to music, concentrating on your breathing, things like that can all work well too.”

  Nat nodded, feeling like a little girl lost. This shouldn’t be her, this uneasy, nervous person sitting in front of her therapist talking about how a piece of material round her wrist could help stave off panic attacks. She was successful, confident. The person her team at St. Bart’s looked to for inspiration and advice. She should be stronger—she should have always been stronger. Callum often reminded her that it was the strong ones who ignored their anxieties, and tried to carry on regardless, but that never seemed to make much sense to Nat.

  “I think I have a lot of things going on in my life right now,” Nat said, “that I can’t seem to manage inside here.” She tapped her temple. “It feels like a computer trying to access too many files at once.” Her mind, as she was talking, sought out Ash. She’d find this amusing, Nat thought. An ironic justice. Nat had never been the strong one in their relationship, her strength of character only emerging when pushed into making a decision which was out of her control.

  “You spoke last time about a new job.” Callum leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs.

  “Mm.” Nat looked at him. When he didn’t continue, she took that as her cue to talk. But where to start? “Just thinking about it scares me.” She laughed quietly, more out of embarrassment than anything else. “But everyone I know is telling me I fully deserved it.”

  Even Ash. Even if her congratulations were dripping in sarcasm.