The Things I Know(89)
‘So I gathered.’ She leaned on the gate and closed her eyes, knowing she was going to have to turn around and look at him at some point, steeling herself for the moment. He sounded happy to be there, his tone sincere and open, and she cursed the confusion this caused in her muddled brain. It was a fight between self-preservation and giving in to her heart, which, whether she liked it or not, ached for him.
You can’t turn up like this and mess with my head. I have plans! I’m leaving – going on my big adventure! And I can’t let you hurt me again . . . It’s too painful and takes too long to fix . . . but, oh my God, just the sound of you!
‘I missed Buddy.’
She turned to squint at his attempt at humour and the first thing she noticed was that he’d cut off his hair. He looked younger and handsome, so handsome. His large eyes were now clearly visible and gone was the curtain of hair that half-hid his face.
‘And you got a haircut.’
‘D’you like it?’ He ran his hand over his head and his expression was desperate.
She nodded. ‘I do, actually,’ she whispered.
‘I went to the barber!’
‘Like a big boy.’
‘Yes,’ he chuckled wryly, ‘like a big boy.’
He took a step forward and she saw for the first time the bag that he’d dumped by the wall. A bag large enough to contain the odds and ends of someone who might be intent on staying for a while. The idea both thrilled and alarmed her. How was it possible that the thought of his staying felt both like a glorious new beginning and the ending of something wonderful before it had begun?
‘What is it you want, Grayson?’ she asked flatly.
He licked his dry lips and put his hands in his pockets, looking over her head. ‘There’s so much I want to say to you, it’s hard to pick a few words that might help me begin.’
She stayed quiet, knowing it was up to him to find those words and not down to her to help him out. He drew breath and looked steadily at her. ‘It’s been so hard for me, missing you, that it felt easier not to think about you – does that make any sense?’
It made complete sense, not that she was going to tell him that. She felt her shoulders straighten as she stood tall, thinking of the girl who was willing to sleep with Tarran Buttermore just because she wanted to be wanted, and here she was, standing down this wonderful man because, finally, she knew her worth.
He coughed. ‘I’ve always been a bit slow in realising things that others seem to jump to in an instant. It takes me a little longer.’ He paused. ‘I knew I needed to sort the facts from the fog in my mind, and I’ve done that. I spoke to Liz and I thought about all the wonderful things you said to me and all the promises we made, all the ideas better than anything I’ve ever had or known.’ He looked again over her head. ‘I thought I didn’t deserve you, not really, because you’re so wonderful and I’m just me, and I know I’ve no right to ask you to consider having me back in your life, but I give you my word that things have changed. I know what you said is right: I need to take control, make it happen, and that’s what I’m doing. And if you decide you don’t want to take a chance on me, I’ll understand. But it’ll kill me, and I will regret it for always but, as I say, I understand, Thomasina, if—’
‘No, you don’t understand,’ she interrupted, shaking her head and matching his stare. ‘Not even a little bit. You ran out on me. You gave up on us! You made it clear that you couldn’t have your life in London with all that self-imposed pressure and your life with me. You made your decision, Grayson, and even though I respected it, it crushed me!’ She placed her hand on her chest. ‘I thought I must have imagined everything that happened between us, and I figured the way I felt was not the way you felt, because if you did, then you wouldn’t have . . . you couldn’t have—’
‘I did! I did! I do!’ It was his turn to interrupt. ‘You didn’t imagine it, and the way I feel about you is off the chart! It’s sky-high!’ He made his arm into a rocket and zoomed it up over his head.
‘So if that’s true, what happened? How come it was so easy to cut me off?’ Thomasina kicked the toe of her boots against the ground and waited.
‘It just took me a while to figure it all out, to catch up. After you left the hospital, I fell back into the web.’
‘What web?’
Grayson sighed. ‘You know what web! My aunties, my mum, the guilt at the thought of her lying on the floor on her own, her heart being weak . . . a million things. And I knew, I knew I couldn’t do both – couldn’t give you what you want, what you deserve and live that life with those women, trapped.’
‘So I still don’t understand – why are you here now?’ She folded her arms across her chest, a protection of sorts.
‘To tell you I’m sorry and to try to explain, if you’ll listen. A lot has happened.’
‘A lot has happened here too.’
He nodded, before gazing wearily skyward, and she felt a flash of love at his desperate expression. ‘I’ve been run ragged, and unhappy. I came back from work a couple of nights ago and walked into the lounge, and my aunties and my mum were sitting with sheets of grease-stained white paper spread over their laps; they were eating battered sausage and chips in pools of salt and vinegar. Knocking back measures of wine between mouthfuls and then lighting up cigarettes.’ He swallowed, painting a picture so vivid that she felt she was witnessing the scene, could hear their incessant babble and smell the sharp tang of the food and the acrid smoke. ‘I reminded my mum that she’d told the doctor she’d stop smoking, that her heart attack was a warning and that she needed to change things if it wasn’t going to happen again. And she . . .’