realise how things between us have shifted. I’m comfortable enough to ugly cry in front of him for starters.
‘I can’t do this if you’re my honorary sister,’ George says. He leans in and kisses my lips. One small, sweet gesture, as if he’s unsure of himself.
‘Oh,’ I say. It’s shock that’s making my response so inadequate and lacklustre. For the dating experiment, it turns out Tess and Clive are right. It isn’t always the heart that responds first. It’s every part of me that’s been wanting this to happen, while never for a second realising that George might feel the same way.
‘Sorry. Wrong moment. Forget that happened.’
‘I don’t want to forget.’ Not when Clive has lost a whole lifetime of love because of memories escaping him.
If Clive forgetting the love of his life for fifty-five years was going to teach me anything, it was that in the very least, I need to embrace mine.
I kiss George the way it really should be done. Even though we need to make sure Clive is okay, for a minute or two, nothing else matters other than the feel of George’s tongue brushing against mine. It’s reminding me what it is to be alive. It’s making my heart jump at last. It might even be helping it heal a little.
‘I don’t want to ever forget a moment like that,’ I say when I break away.
‘Me neither,’ George says before kissing me again for good measure.
I can’t help but think about the old adage that everything happens for a reason. That without meeting Clive, I would never have met George. He wouldn’t have become my go-to person in case of emergency.
Going to find out if Clive is okay is going to be so much easier with George by my side. And we’ll get there. Soon. Once we manage to stop kissing.
52
Clive
Clive was filled with emptiness, which was a strange oxymoron of a position to be in. If his house being cleared of many of his possessions wasn’t enough to cause it, then the knowledge of what life had allowed him to miss out on definitely was.
He thought of the many meals he’d had alone. Of the walks for one. Of the theatre trips with a solo seat. He’d passed through the years convincing himself that it was because he was happy by himself, and he was. Because he’d not realised there was a love that he’d left behind. But the more he thought on it, the more the nice memories were surfacing. Those pies he’d remembered were ones she’d really made. Those complaints about his mucky wellies were true. A lifetime ago, he had grown the gladioli for her to enjoy.
There was a knock at the door stopping him from dwelling further for now. It was Keisha. She sprung in, giving him the biggest hug of his life. The first one he’d ever received from her.
‘I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I should have told you that we’d found out about Nancy and that there’s more to your history than we’d originally realised,’ Keisha said, adding that George was waiting in the car to allow them some time by themselves.
‘Nonsense. How is me being mugged a lifetime ago and then becoming a muddled, but somewhat more enlightened, old man ever your fault? There’s no one to blame here other than the misfortunes that life sometimes dishes out to us. I just wish I’d remembered some of this sooner.’ There was still something niggling away at him.
‘But Nancy. I should have told you. We just weren’t sure if you’d remember.’
‘I didn’t at first, but then that knowledge was there again as solid as a rock. I really hope she’s not too upset. Are you able to call her? Check she’s okay?’
‘Can I take your pulse first? I want to make sure we aren’t setting off another episode.’
‘Go ahead.’ Clive took a seat on the sofa and offered Keisha his wrist and doing so reminded him of her scar – the one she’d never spoken of, but with which he knew their connection had been created. ‘We don’t want another bout of broken hearts. Are you ever going to tell me about yours?’ He gave the heart tattoo a gentle brush.
Keisha glanced at her scar and it was only then Clive noticed she’d been crying. It would seem they were all a tad broken-hearted today.
‘I’ve never told anyone, you know.’
‘I know. You don’t have to tell me either, but I’ve remembered what caused mine. And