Page 43 of You Were Always the One

I’m not sure what to say. ‘You were right,’ is all I can say. ‘I just think I’m not what you need.’ It saddens me to say it. But we both know I’m not. And deep inside, I’m not sure I’ve ever known how to be.

TWENTY YEARS AGO

And so our journey went on. After a trip to the Sahara, we crossed back to Spain, making our way west into Portugal. We ate traditional food and I taught Skye to surf. Then in another battered old hire car, we slowly made our way up the Atlantic coast, before heading inland as Skye fell in love, all over again – by now, I knew the signs.

‘I could live here.’ She was mesmerised by the landscape. ‘Promise me, Monty. One day, we’ll come back here.’

I had a lump in my throat. It was the first time she’d alluded to a future that encompassed both of us. ‘I’d like that,’ I said huskily.

That winter, we struck lucky – again. It had happened a lot since we’d been together. We met a couple in a village who wanted help on their smallholding. While they were away for six months, in return for a few hours work looking after the place, we’d have our own little casinha, and the rest of the time to ourselves.

For me, it was another chapter in the journey of life. One I embraced, as I generally did. For Skye, though, it was about more than that.

‘We can save some money. Houses are really cheap around here.’ She looked at me hesitantly. ‘Maybe we could think about getting our own place.’

I wasn’t sure what to say. In truth, I wasn’t ready for our own place. I wasn’t ready to settle down. ‘Think what we’d be giving up,’ I said gently.

But Skye looked at me. ‘Think how much we’d have to gain.’

I knew what she was envisaging. A tiny, white-painted house with an open fire and a flourishing veggie garden, a stone’s throw from the nearest village with its weekly market. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way,’ I said hesitantly. ‘But I love the freedom of going wherever life takes us. To stop doing that feels like such a big step…’

Skye shrugged. But her eyes were guarded. ‘I guess.’ She went on. ‘It would be nice, though – wouldn’t it? To have our own little place?’

‘Sure,’ I said breezily. ‘At some point. But there’s no rush. We have our whole lives ahead of us.’

Her face cleared. ‘You’re right.’ Her voice was bright. Overly so – and I couldn’t help feeling something was off.

‘You OK?’ I asked gently.

‘I’m fine.’ She glanced towards the window. ‘I should go and feed the chickens.’

Looking after the chickens was part of the deal while we stayed here. There was also exotic fruit to pick, the sun-ripened tomatoes that Skye loved. It was her idea of idyllic. But I had the sense that her mindset had shifted, just slightly. We had always been so aligned; I should have read more into it. But in this instance, I must have missed something. Or maybe it was just that everything really was OK. Until the day came I knew it definitely wasn’t.

15

HOLLY

In the maelstrom that my life has become, I am grateful for the smallest, normal things. For the routines of our lives. The frenetic rush of breakfast; a cup of tea and hastily grabbed slice of toast, the daily dash for the school bus.

With that behind me, on Monday morning, when I go to see Dora, she’s sleeping peacefully.

‘She was awake most of the night,’ Natalie tells me.

‘You should try and get some sleep too,’ I say. Natalie looks exhausted.

‘I might go and have a nap while you’re here – if you don’t mind?’

After Natalie goes upstairs, Dora stirs. ‘Holly.’ She smiles faintly. ‘It’s so nice to see you, dear.’

‘How are you, Dora?’ I say gently.

‘Oh, you know. Still here,’ she says. ‘I’m quite thirsty.’

I hold a glass of water so that she can sip it. Then she lies back.

‘That’s better,’ she says. ‘You are a blessing, Holly. I hope your husband knows how lucky he is.’ Her eyes flutter closed, then as I watch her, in no time, she’s sleeping again.

An hour or so later, Natalie comes downstairs. ‘Your mum was awake briefly,’ I tell her. ‘But not for long.’ I get up to leave. ‘I should probably get on. Call me, won’t you? If anything changes?’