When I Knew You Page 8

  “I read it last night when I got back,” Ash said. “The Tate? Ugh.”

  Nat heard the groan of despair coming down the phone and couldn’t help smiling again. “I thought you might say that.”

  An awkward silence settled. Nat could faintly hear Ash breathing and wished one of them would speak. No words came to her, though.

  “So,” Nat said when the silence became too much, “where shall we meet later?”

  “Inside?” Ash asked.

  “How about lunch? First. Before we go in, I mean. I know a nice place. Nearby. Near it.” Nat groaned at her ineptitude. Why did she sound so stilted?

  “No, we’ll go straight in,” Ash replied. “Get it over with sooner.”

  So you can get away from me quicker?

  Nat’s brow creased at the thought. “Sure,” she finally managed to say.

  “One thirty?” Ash asked.

  “Sure,” Nat repeated, her flood of anticipation at offering Ash lunch trickling into a dried up stream of disappointment at Ash’s disinterest.

  “See you later, then.”

  Their call ended abruptly. Nat sat back, tapping the edge of her phone against her lip. Despite her upset at Ash’s indifference, the thought of seeing her later warmed Nat as much as the thought of the Tate chilled her. But feeling happy at the thought of seeing Ash again was a good thing, right? It meant she finally felt comfortable in her company, rather than being knotted up by the anxieties that had hampered her the day before.

  But, to Nat’s dismay, it also meant that a thousand new questions were beginning to worm their way into her brain.

  ❖

  The walk along the Thames down towards the Tate had always been one of Ash’s favourites when she’d lived in London. No one had told October that it should be wet and windy; instead the sun shone down radiantly through trees that looked only slightly more spindly than they had in September, and the crunch of fallen dusty leaves underfoot reminded Ash that it hadn’t rained in weeks.

  Ash had come off the Tube so that she could walk across the Thames at London Bridge and walk down Bankside, always keeping St. Paul’s Cathedral in her line of vision. She didn’t know if it was a superstition, or just a personal quirk, but she had, even from an early age, gained comfort from seeing St. Paul’s. She was also never sure if that was because it was a symbol of strength—after all, neither the Great Fire nor Hitler’s Luftwaffe had been able to defeat it—but Ash knew with absolute certainty that the day St. Paul’s disappeared would be the day the world ended.

  To Ash, it was as simple as that.

  Nat had laughed at her about that when they’d been teenagers. But her ribbings had never been anything more than just that. Quite the reverse; Nat had told Ash in the years they were together that her opinion about St. Paul’s had just been another of her many quirks.

  Another beautiful layer to your personality, she’d said. You have so many beautiful layers. They’d spent many moments walking hand in hand after dark along the river, looking up at the cathedral together. Whenever they were in its vicinity, Ash would always want to go and see it, even if it meant taking a long diversion. Nat always, without exception, complied with her wish.

  Ash’s feet slowed as it appeared to her now, remembering. She stopped and lifted her eyes skyward. How many times had they stood, side by side, and stared up at its dome just like she was doing now? They’d only ever stop and look for a second before moving on, but it had become a habit in their relationship that made them both laugh at the sheer peculiarity of it. A pang of regret for past times swirled about Ash, swiftly followed by a wry internal smile at her stupidity.

  She glanced at her watch and knew she should move on. Nat and Chloe would be waiting inside the Tate, as arranged. Her feet, however, remained rooted to the spot.

  There had been no one quite like Nat since they’d parted. Sure, there had been acquaintances, but Ash had never been able to give her heart to another woman since Nat. She was her first love and no one else had ever understood her like she had. No other woman had ever felt quite right, and Ash knew that was because of her, not them. As much as she hated to admit it, her heart had stayed Nat’s property for years after they’d parted. Nat was the one who had broken it, and she was the one who had kept it all that time. How else could she explain the regret of a lost love that had followed her right round Europe, back to England, and down deep into Cornwall? It had never left her. She had never left her.

  Ash’s gaze roamed over the familiar dome. The sadness at her and Nat’s parting should have left her years ago. She knew that. Gabe was right: people come and go in each other’s lives; people get together and break up. They were teenagers, for goodness’ sake. Teenagers break up all the time.

  So why had it felt so different when she and Nat had done it? Why had she been unable to shake it off? Sure, she hadn’t thought of Nat for a while now, and seeing her again was bound to stir up old feelings and old wounds, but seeing Nat again had done so much more than just that. Seeing her had brought it home in stark clarity to Ash just how much their parting had affected her. Now she yearned for her past again, for her lost teenage years, after managing to so successfully lodge them in the back of her mind for so long.

  Enough. She couldn’t change the past. Ash shook her head and quickened her step, leaving St. Paul’s behind her, hastening towards Bankside before her thoughts could overwhelm her. She forced her mind ahead to make it think of something else—anything else—so that her nostalgia wouldn’t get the chance to catch up with her. By the time she arrived at the Tate she’d be her usual self again, and neither Nat nor Chloe would be able to guess that she’d just spent the last half an hour wallowing in self-pity. More than that, though, she wouldn’t let Nat know she’d been thinking—again—of them. She hadn’t thought of her and Nat for so many years, and she wasn’t about to change that.

  If only her mind would comply.

  ❖

  From inside the Tate’s café, Nat’s phone buzzed on the table in front of her. She glanced over to see Ash’s name lit up and shot a look to Chloe, hoping she hadn’t noticed the shift in her that seeing Ash’s name had triggered.

  “She’s on her way.” Nat picked up her phone and read Ash’s message, placing it back on the table at Chloe’s nod of acknowledgement.

  “You know, I’m very grateful,” Chloe said. “To both of you.”

  “For what?” Nat asked, surprised.

  “For doing all this with me,” Chloe replied. She paused. “I think it’s a bit of a chore for you both.”

  Nat lowered her head and caught Chloe’s eye.

  “Clo, it’s not a chore,” she said. “Far from it.”

  “But it feels strange for you both,” Chloe offered. Nat watched as she picked up a paper napkin and turned it over in her hands. “Spending time together again after all this time.”

  “It’s odd, but nice.” Nat smiled. “Stops me thinking about my new job all the time.” The now-accustomed knot of nerves hit Nat’s throat at her own words. New job, new life. It was what she wanted—a new start away from London—but the panic she felt at having to start over in Ireland on her own welled up inside her each and every time she thought about it.

  The job she could cope with. Nat was confident in her own abilities as a surgeon—after all, the consultancy post she’d been offered had been everything she’d worked her whole life for. No, the uncertainties lay in the thought of packing up her soulless apartment in London and transferring its belongings to another soulless apartment in Belfast, where she would continue her life alone. Just as she’d done all her life—before, during, and after Richard.

  “Does Ash know you’re moving to Ireland?” Chloe asked.

  “Why would she?” Nat knew she sounded harsher than she’d meant to. “She knows I have a new job, but she doesn’t know it’s in Ireland.”

  “Guess you two haven’t really talked much, have you.” Chloe looked at Nat. “This weekend, I mean.”

&n
bsp; “No. Guess not.”

  “Perhaps you should,” Chloe said. “Clear some old air.”

  Nat looked away as Chloe pulled her phone from her bag, read something, then placed it back in her bag. Her mind ticked over. “Perhaps,” she murmured, sliding a look to Chloe. The kid was smarter than she realized.

  “Mum always said you two were great together,” Chloe said slowly. “It seems a shame.”

  “Your mum told you about us?” Nat asked.

  “That you were all close friends?” Chloe smiled. “The Untouchables? Of course.”

  Nat nodded. If only it had been that simple.

  “I used to ask her why you two never came to visit us at the same time,” Chloe continued. “When I was smaller, Mum used to say it was because Ash was in France and you were in Scotland, and blah, blah.”

  “Then?”

  Chloe shrugged. “When I was older and able to understand better, she told me you two fell out when you were eighteen and didn’t speak any more.”

  “Sounds so uncomplicated when you put it like that.” Nat looked away.

  “Why should it be complicated? Oh, she’s here.” Before Nat had to think up an answer, Chloe patted Nat’s arm, then rose and went towards Ash the second she appeared in the doorway. Nat watched, grateful for the intervention, but resenting the nip of envy that instantly returned at the sight of Chloe’s ease around Ash, when all Ash did was make Nat tense up. Ash certainly didn’t look tense, and Sunday museum dressing, it seemed, meant nothing to her. Instead, she’d chosen faded jeans, slightly frayed at the bottoms, and a top low enough even for Nat to appreciate the smoothness of her neck and chest from where she was sitting. The combination looked good on her, Nat thought. Effortless but with just enough about it to turn heads in admiration.

  Nat saw Chloe say something to Ash, point, then heard Ash laugh uproariously. The insecure woman inside her wondered, just for a fleeting moment, whether Chloe had said something to Ash about her, but she knew she was being oversensitive.

  “I just told Ash about the painting we saw in the foyer over there.” Chloe flopped down in her chair next to Nat again. “Told her I’d give her some crayons and she could replicate it later.”

  “It looks like a five-year-old drew it,” Ash said, snagging the seat opposite them, “so it shouldn’t be too hard.” She eased back in her chair, crossing one long leg over the other. Despite her eyes begging her to look lower, Nat kept her focus on Ash’s face.

  “I wondered what had made you laugh,” Nat said.

  “Have you seen it?” Ash flicked her thumb over her shoulder. “If that’s the standard of paintings here”—Nat smiled as Ash lowered her voice—“then it’s going to be a long afternoon.” Their eyes met across the table, and in that moment, Nat sensed a slight shift happen between them, the first tangible feeling of positivity and change she’d felt so far. Ash had seemingly brought with her an energy that had up until now been missing, a shared knowledge, mixed in with something Nat could only comprehend as fun. Nat didn’t think she’d ever felt so grateful.

  “So are we good to go?” Chloe stood. “The Dali exhibition’s the one I’d like to see first.”

  Ash unfurled her legs and stood, the look of mischief in her eyes telling Nat everything she needed to know about what she thought about the prospect of viewing some Dali paintings.

  Nat followed suit, watching Ash and Chloe make their way across the foyer, her eyes on Ash’s back.

  It was going to be a long afternoon, sure. But, still thinking about that shift, suddenly Nat didn’t care.

  ❖

  The exhibition, to Ash’s surprise, wasn’t the complete drag she’d expected it to be. In fact, the whole museum had turned out to be a pleasant surprise and she knew she had Chloe to thank for that. Her keenness for modern art, exacerbated by good old-fashioned teenage enthusiasm, taught Ash far more than she’d ever expected. She knew she wasn’t about to go out into London immediately afterwards and bag herself a reproduction Picasso for her bathroom at home, but Chloe had cleverly shown her that the best way to appreciate the works she was seeing was to not think too much about what she was looking at. That suited Ash just fine. Her mind, annoyingly, was on anything but modern art. Instead, it was on Nat. She looked great, and although a shadow of anxiety remained, she looked far more relaxed than she’d looked the day before. Happier too. A relaxed and happy Nat, Ash now thought as she slipped a look towards her as they left the museum, suited her well.

  “Dinner,” Ash said, looping an arm around Chloe as they stepped back outside, “is on me. There’ll be a McDonald’s round here somewhere I’m sure.”

  “You mind if I take a rain check on dinner?” Chloe pulled her phone from her pocket and waved it in front of Ash’s face.

  “Better offer?” Ash cocked her head to one side and smiled. “Better than a McDonald’s?” She clutched at her heart. “I’m hurt.”

  “Something like that.” Chloe batted Ash’s hand away and laughed. “Couple of friends from school want to hang out,” she said, adding “and we’ll all travel back down to Wimbledon together, so don’t worry,” when Ash’s concern had been noted.

  “Have you heard this?” Ash turned her head to Nat. “Blown out for some friends.”

  “Don’t be a drama queen.” Nat walked past her, smiling back over her shoulder. “Just because you had to endure Dali doesn’t mean poor Clo has to endure McDonald’s with us pair.”

  “Funny.” Ash hurried to catch her up. “Now what am I supposed to do?”

  “Put up with me on your own,” Nat said, still walking. “I hope you’re hungry. I’m bloody starving.”

  Chapter Eight

  From the outside, the restaurant was no different to the dozens of others in London. The glorious aromas wafting towards Ash as she and Nat approached it, however, were enough for them both to stop seeking something slightly more expensive and plump for it. It looked as though it would be a good choice, and certainly better than her planned McDonald’s, Ash thought with a smile. Entering the dimly lit belly of the restaurant, the plush ruby seats, tasteful decorations, and ambient lighting gave it the air of a place that was perhaps only one step down from something more at home in Mayfair. Ash looked down at her jeans, frayed at the ends, and wished—not for the first time—that she’d thought to pack better evening wear, annoyed with herself that she hadn’t known better.

  “Too posh or okay?” Nat’s hair tickled her cheek as she leaned closer to be heard above the hubbub in the restaurant.

  “It’s okay,” Ash replied. “I’m too hungry to worry.”

  They were shown to a table close to the bar, tucked away in a darkened corner, their waiter giving them his undivided attention. Tips, Ash guessed looking at the upmarket clientele that surrounded her, had to be earned in this particular place. She waited for Nat to be seated first, glancing around as the waiter fussed around her, then waved him politely away as he attempted to seat her too.

  “I’m good,” she said, sitting down. “Could we just get some drinks, please?” She hated his formality. Drinks would ease her own unease. “Beer would be good for me, thanks.”

  “Oh.” Nat, Ash thought, looked a little taken aback. “Whatever house red you’ve got will be great.” Nat smiled at him. “Thanks.” She looked at Ash. “No perusing the drinks menu, then?”

  “Beer for me,” Ash replied, shrugging, “wine for you. Who needs a drinks menu?”

  “You’re uncomfortable, aren’t you?” Nat asked.

  “It’s just a bit stuffy for me, that’s all.” Ash wrinkled her nose. “Starched napkins, starched waiter. Makes me feel nervous.”

  “I remember the look.”

  “What look?”

  “You always used to get that look on your face when you felt uncomfortable,” Nat said. “A sort of grumpy, panicked look.”

  “Thanks.” Ash rested back in her seat as her glass of beer arrived. She waited while Nat received her wine, then leaned forward again. “Gru
mpy and panicked?” She picked up her glass and smiled over the top of it. “Cheers.” She lifted her glass higher, watching as Nat did the same, then drank her beer.

  “Whenever we went somewhere where you felt out of place,” Nat said, “you’d always get prickly. Like you held it personally responsible for making you feel uncomfortable.”

  “I don’t recall us going to many places like that,” Ash replied. “Only that one time when you tried to drag me off to the ballet.”

  “You wore your shorts.” Nat nodded.

  “It was the middle of summer.”

  “No one wears shorts to the ballet.”

  “I did.” Ash took another sip. She remembered it well. They’d laughed so much at how out of place Ash had looked, in amongst the suits and dresses, that they’d narrowly avoided being asked to leave by the stuffed shirt on the door. “They were nice shorts,” she said. “I didn’t think there was a problem.”

  “You never did worry about what people thought.” Nat grinned. “You were too cool to care.”

  “Life’s too short.” Ash’s glass paused midair. “Pardon the pun.” She drank some more beer back.

  “That’s one of the things I loved about you when we were together,” Nat said. “Not much bothered you, did it?”

  “Only some things.” Ash picked up a menu as a distraction to Nat’s words. Talking over the past wasn’t going to be on her agenda tonight; she’d promised herself that, the second she’d realized she’d be dining with Nat alone. Her evening with Nat would be spent discussing Livvy’s letters, or Chloe, or London. Anything but their past.

  “You having a starter?” Nat picked up her own menu. Had she sensed Ash’s unease? Ash stole a look over the top of her menu; if Nat had sensed it, she was hiding it well.

  “I’m going to plunge straight into the main course, I think.” Ash frowned, trying to concentrate on the words in front of her. The letters coalesced.

  That’s one of the things I loved about you when we were together.