Page 3 of Together Again at the Cornish Country Hospital

Gwen slipped her hands under the covers again, her hand reconnecting with his thigh, but she felt him tense.

‘You’re not getting out of this conversation by changing the subject.’

‘I can’t win, can I!’ Gwen snatched her hand away. ‘One minute you’re asking me to spend more time with you and the next you’re turning down a night away. If you want to slow down to a stop, Barry, that’s up to you, but I refuse to get old before my time.’

‘Not even you can stop the ageing progress, Gee, and I know why you’re scared.’ Suddenly his tone was far softer, but all it did was fan the flames of her anger.

‘I’m not scared. I’m just sick to death of you trying to make me take things easy when you know how much I hate that.’ Getting to her feet, Gwen ignored his outstretched hand and his plea that all he was trying to do was help. Stalking out of the bedroom she slammed the door behind her. She hated rowing with Barry, and it felt so unfamiliar, because they’d always been able to talk about anything. But recently things had been tense, and his determination to make her revisit a place she didn’t want to go to was probably why she felt so unlike her normal self just lately. It had to be that, because the alternative was far too awful to contemplate.

Gwen knew some of her friends were scared of getting older, but that had never bothered her because the opportunity was a privilege denied to so many. She’d spent years convincing herself that it was her attitude to ageing that mattered, not the number of candles on her next birthday cake. Except now things were happening that were forcing her to confront what she already knew to be true: sometimes it didn’t matter how positive or young at heart people were, ill health could still seek them out. The thing that scared Gwen far more than ageing itself, was the possibility that the disease which had taken her mother from her, had finally caught up with her too. She’d spent decades desperately trying to outrun it, and so much of who she was had been shaped by her determination to seize the day because of what she’d witnessed during her mother’s illness. But if Gwen was going to suffer the same fate, no amount of twirling around the dance floor or jumping out of aeroplanes would change the outcome. She was so terrified she couldn’t bring herself to voice her fears out loud, even to Barry, and she’d never felt more alone in her life.

4

‘I swear to God I am going to have to unfollow Isla if she posts one more of these videos.’ Aidan leaned towards Amy and showed her what he’d been looking at on his phone. It was taken from the window of a campervan travelling along Lindis Pass in New Zealand, which cut through a stunning mountain range.

‘Me too.’ Amy grinned, knowing neither of them meant it. They were both just so glad Isla was enjoying herself, following a diagnosis of chronic myeloid leukaemia which had spun her world on its axis. Despite being an incurable condition, it was manageable in the same kind of way as diabetes, and as long as it didn’t progress to acute myeloid leukaemia it wasn’t life threatening. It had been a black cloud hanging over Isla’s head, nonetheless, until she’d come to terms with it, and it had been Reuben, Aidan’s nephew, who’d helped her to do that. He was now Isla’s boyfriend, as well as her travelling companion out in New Zealand, and Amy strongly suspected he would be a permanent fixture in her friend’s life on their return. She really liked Reuben, not least because he treated Isla so well, and it gave her hope that the best relationships could happen when you least expected it.

Amy had seen so many of her friends find love over the last few years and despite her determination to be alone rather than settle for second best, she still wanted that for herself. She didn’tneedto be with someone, but that didn’t mean she didn’t stillwantto have a family of her own one day. Her career was progressing well and she’d recently applied for a master’s degree in order to become a clinical nurse specialist, but, deep down, she knew her job would never tick every box.

During some of the off-again phases in her relationship with Zach, Amy had tried online dating and that was one thing she’d never do again. Some of her friends had met wonderful partners on the apps, but she seemed to attract every bottom feeder with access to a smartphone. She’d been sent enough pictures of male anatomy to re-train as a urologist, and to know that penises came in more shapes and sizes than she’d ever imagined possible. It had been Aidan who’d told her to save one of the pictures, so she could send it back to anyone who sent her one in the future. He’d suggested she accompany it with a simple message, before swiftly blocking them.

‘This one’s mine.’

She hoped it would make some of them think twice before doing it again, but even armed with advice from Aidan, she’d decided online dating wasn’t for her and not just because she’d received so many stomach-churning pictures. She’d had requests from guys to wear her nurse’s uniform out on dates and a couple of men who hadn’t shown up at all. But the top prize probably had to go to the man who’d called her by his ex-girlfriend’s name all night and, who instead of apologising, had said it was okay because Amy reminded him of his ex, so it was probably just as easy to call her Milly. It had been enough for her to delete all the dating apps. She might still want the traditional white picket fence life one day, but she wasn’t prepared to settle for someone she couldn’t trust completely. She’d been there before, and she was never going back.

‘What’s it going to be today, a mocha or a caramel latte?’ Amy looked at Aidan as they reached the Friends of St Piran’s shop. It was positioned at the entrance to the hospital, and there were several bistro tables outside, which had made it into a regular hangout for some of the staff. It had decent coffee too, which wasn’t something readily available elsewhere in the hospital, and Amy hadn’t needed any convincing to accompany Aidan there at the end of their shift. It had been a long night, and they hadn’t had the chance to catch up properly, so it would be good to have a chat before they headed off on their separate ways for a few days. The hospital was just starting to come to life, and the shop only opened this early because one of the volunteers always came in to take delivery of the daily newspapers.

‘It might have to be an Americano.’ Aidan pulled a face. ‘I know, I know, unheard of, but Jase is picking me up in half an hour, and we’re going to the IKEA in Exeter. He’s insisting there are some things we’ve got to buy from there for the baby. So I’m going to need some far less diluted caffeine to get me through. We’re staying down there for a night in a hotel he got a last-minute deal on, and we’re going to the cinema and having a meal out in a restaurant that isn’t remotely child-friendly. Jase reckons we need to get all these things in while we can.’

The smile on Aidan’s face made Amy smile too. Her plans for the next three days, following the end of a block of nights, were very different to her friend’s, but she couldn’t wait. She was going to buy some trashy magazines and all her favourite foods. There’d be long walks on the beach with Monty, and then Sunday lunch over at her parents’ place, while her brother was out fishing, where the little dog would chase around the garden with her parents’ English Mastiff, Bernie. They were like little and large, and the sight always made her smile. She might catch up with a friend for a drink too, but she deliberately hadn’t made any set plans. Amy was a sociable person, but after ten years in nursing she knew she needed a bit of down time to adjust from nights to days.

‘Okay, I’ll grab the coffees. Chocolate?’ She looked at Aidan again and he pulled a face.

‘Well obviously. I’m switching to an americano, I’m not dead.’

‘Of course, sorry.’ Amy laughed at the look of mock indignation on her friend’s face. She grabbed two bars of chocolate and headed towards the counter, where Gwen was standing, staring down at a newspaper. It wasn’t like her not to be giving her full attention to the job or busying herself restocking the shelves with the newly delivered magazines. A retired midwife, Gwen was a force of nature, who seemed to know everyone in the Three Ports area, never mind St Piran’s. There was no subject off limits, and nothing on which she wasn’t willing to share her advice. She’d also do anything to help someone out if she could, and she was the antithesis of a slacker. So it was a shock to see Gwen standing there reading, as Amy approached the counter. The older women’s head snapped back the moment she realised Amy was there and she jabbed at the open pages of the newspaper in front of her.

‘Amy, of all the people! I was just going to text you about this, have you seen it? Has he been in touch?’ Her words were coming out in a rush, but Amy had no idea what she was talking about.

Gwen thrust the newspaper towards her and she immediately spotted the photograph of Lijah Byrne, hurrying through an airport, dressed more like someone about to go for a jog than a pop star. He was wearing a dark coloured tracksuit, with a beanie pulled low down almost covering his eyes. Even in the photograph she could see he looked tired, a generous covering of stubble grazing his chin. He wasn’t the sort of musician who looked polished and airbrushed, there was an edge to him, his dark curly hair always what her grandmother had described as being ‘a little bit too long for its own good’. But Amy had always loved Lijah’s hair. It still shocked her just how many young men had tried to adopt his style, but he wasn’t easily imitated. In meant there was no mistaking who the photo was of, even if the headline hadn’t screamed: ‘Lijah lies low!’ And the byline: ‘Back in the place that inspired so many of his songs.’

‘Did he tell you he was coming back?’ Gwen’s eyes were shining; she was clearly excited about the possibility of someone as famous at Lijah suddenly popping into the hospital shop. Port Kara and the surrounding area had its share of celebrities living in fancy holiday homes, and far more than its fair share of celebrity chefs, but St Piran’s was hardly a hot spot for the rich and famous to hang out.

‘We’re not in contact. I keep telling everyone that.’ Almost as soon as Amy had told her friends that she’d once dated Lijah, she’d wished she could take the words back. She’d expected a lot of incredulity and plenty of mickey taking – it was the love language of her friends at the hospital and what got them through some very tough days – but what she hadn’t expected was for them to be convinced Lijah still had feelings for her. Admittedly the lyrics of his songs did often refer to what could be construed as a teenage romance and there’d been some lines, on his first album, that even she’d wondered about:

Still miss the girl in my teenage dream, like an eighties pin-up, you’re my retro queen.

Lijah had been good at telling Amy what he liked about her, and her insecurities had made her ask the question far too often. It must have driven him mad, because it drove her mad too, but back then she couldn’t help it. There’d been a long list of things he’d said he loved about her, when she’d sought reassurance. It had amazed her because if she’d been asked to name one thing she liked about her appearance, she’d probably have struggled. There were things she liked about who she was, and her ability to laugh at most things – including herself – meant she’d always made friends easily. But she hadn’t looked the way girls her age were supposed to look in her teens, when all her friends were slim, in cropped tops showing off belly button piercings, and with legs so thin they reminded Amy of newborn foals. It had taken years for her to get to where she was now, and sometimes she wondered if Lijah would even recognise her as the girl she used to be.

No one had expected them to get together, least of all her, and for a long time they’d only been friends. Lijah had been the subject of her unrequited affection since she’d first spotted him in Year 7, but it wasn’t until Year 9 that a chance conversation had sparked the connection between them. They’d discovered a shared passion for music from the eighties, which had been the soundtrack to the youth of their parents’ generation. It had led to a friendship that had become really close by the time they were fifteen. Lijah was an only child, who’d lived with his mum and his aunt, both of whom Amy had grown close to. The four of them would sit listening to music together, talking and laughing. It had been a home from home for Amy, but she’d never allowed herself to believe that it might go beyond friendship for Lijah. Everything in his life was about music and she’d been convinced that their friendship was just an extension of that. Then she’d helped his mum, Maria, organise his sixteenth birthday party. That night Amy and Lijah had shared a moment that had changed everything and for three years they’d been each other’s whole worlds.

When Lijah had first told her she reminded him of Kate Bush, she’d laughed. Admittedly she had the same hazel eyes, edged with dark lashes. She’d worn her dark hair long back then too and it wouldn’t have needed a lot of back combing to give her the unruly look that had been de rigeur for much of the eighties, but that’s where the similarity ended. Kate Bush was the epitome of cool, Amy was just Amy. The few times she’d gone clubbing with friends in the sixth form, she’d been the girl who kept an eye on other girls’ drinks to make sure the boys chatting them up didn’t try to slip anything into their glasses. But Lijah had like her – loved her, so he’d said. They’d shared such a lot of interests, and told each other their biggest secrets and darkest fears, laughing so hard so often, that in the end she’d believed his feelings for her were real, and she’d known without doubt that hers were. People often said that teenagers didn’t know what love was, but that wasn’t true. She’d loved Lijah and a part of her probably always would, but she doubted he gave her a second thought these days, except when he needed a line for a song about the boy he used to be. ‘When I was me’ seemed to be playing everywhere and, if she’d let herself, Amy might even have been able to buy into her friends’ fantasy that Lijah Byrne was still writing songs about her after all these years. Two lines in particular made it feel as if he was singing to her.

You were gonna be my everything, but you never left that place,

On that corner where I kissed you, where I still picture your face.

She could still see him standing on the spot where they’d said their final goodbyes, at the end of the gap year they’d spent together after leaving school. It was Amy who’d broken things off when Lijah had announced his intention to go to London to try and make something happen with his music. He’d wanted her to transfer her university place from Plymouth to somewhere in London, coming up with plans for them to live together, and joking that he’d happily sneak into her halls of residence every night if that meant they wouldn’t have to be apart. She’d wanted to say yes, so desperately, but if Lijah had any chance of making it, he needed to be able to completely focus, and if they were meant to be together, they’d find a way to do it. That’s what she’d told him, and she’d refused to back down even when he’d begged her to reconsider. Even now she wasn’t 100 per cent sure why she hadn’t gone with him, but she knew it hadn’t been entirely selfless.

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