Page 109 of Meet Me Under the Mistletoe
“Hmm, well after uni, I got a great job doing absolutely nothing to do with my degree whatsoever. It was fabulous pay with amazing prospects, and I absolutely hated it.”
“What were you doing?”
“I was working in advertising. It was actually Ameerah’s dad who got me the job. I knew it wasn’t something I would enjoy.”
“Then why did you do it?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Well, explain it to me and if I get confused, I’ll stop you.”
“I was never allowed to forget that I’d been given this brilliant opportunity that neither my parents nor my brother—especially my brother—had access to. And I had to make sure I’d deserved it, otherwise what would have been the point? Does that make sense?”
“You felt you owed them a debt of some kind because you’d had a private education.”
“Exactly. I had to make it count or it would be unfair to someone who would have made better use of it but didn’t get the chance. There were twenty kids in my primary school class and only I got chosen. That’s a lot to live up to.”
“I think you were being a bit hard on yourself,” said Isaac, stroking her hair.
“You should have asked Thomas about it; he had very strong feelings on the subject.”
“And that’s why you felt lost? You mentioned feeling lost the other day.”
“Partly.” She raised herself up onto her elbows, so that she was facing him. “School was intense, you know? We were always together, twenty-four seven; for seven years we lived in each other’s pockets. Then I went to uni and although I wasn’t withthemanymore, I was still a pack animal, always with people. And then suddenly it was just me. We’d all kind of drifted off: Jenna was running all over the country chasing acting jobs, Ameerah had her head down with pupilage. It sounds pathetic, but suddenly I was all alone, doing a job I hated, too proud to go home and too stuck to get out of the hole I’d created. I was drinking too much and...”
“And then your friend died.”
“Yes. Nothing sobers you up to your own pathetic reality likeyour friend taking their own life,” she said sardonically. “Tristan was dead, and there I was living a life that I hated in order to live up to other people’s expectations. So, I cleaned up my act and started living the lifeIwanted, which involved a massive loan that I’ll be paying until I’m one hundred and twenty-three, but I’m happy.”
“I think Tristan would be pleased with your choices.”
“I wish he were here to see them. I wish he’d known how much I loved him. Maybe if he did...”
“You carry a lot of guilt around,” Isaac observed.
“I don’t think so.”
“You feel guilty about Camille, guilty about Tristan, guilty about Thomas,” he said.
“Well, yes, but...”
“You aren’t responsible for other people’s actions, or their happiness. It isn’t your job to make everyone feel better. Your altruism is to be commended but not at the expense of yourself.”
Nory pulled the duvet up. It was chilly now.
“I’m bored of talking about me. Let’s talk about you.”
“What do you want to know? I’m an open book.”
Nory turned on her side, flopping her arm across his torso.
“An open book? Ha! I don’t think so, Mr. Hiding Historical Works of Art in a Locked Trunk!”
“Every man must have his secrets.” He chuckled.
“Do you really not want to try and get Heba’s work authenticated?”
He sighed. “The truth is, I’d love to. But I don’t know where to begin, and the thought of losing them terrifies me. I don’t know if I can take the risk. Maybe one day.”
