Page 47 of For One Moment With You
Followed shortly by Robbie.
Robbie
Oh wow! Safe travels. Hope the weather’s better there than here xx
I was suddenly mindful of what Tallulah had said, about the difference it makes when there’s a flow to life. And that, it seemed, was what was happening now. All the delays and obstacles meaning I was on a train heading somewhere I hadn’t planned to be, but that wasn’t the point. I was having an adventure in every sense.
But as I sat back and watched the houses whizz past, suddenly this crazy day, the weeks, months, even the last two years since Lizzie was diagnosed, all of it seemed to catch up with me. My new-found bubble of euphoria collapsed, as one thought loomed above the others and lodged in my brain.
What the hell am I doing here?
It was one thing planning to get a flight and find a hotel in California where my song came from. There was apoint– at least, to me there was. But beyond the most tenuous link to Adam, there was nothing about Barcelona that beyond a couple of days of sightseeing particularly drew me.
Was that how my life was going to be now? A sequence of random decisions in the name of the passing of time? Losing the plot entirely at this stage, I stifled the sob that stuck in my throat, grateful there was no one sitting opposite to hide my distress from. I got out my phone again and, with shaking hands, I texted Elena.
Tilly
Flight didn’t leave because of fog, so I’ve made a mad decision and am on a train to Barcelona. I don’t know who I am any more, Els. What have I done?
A feeling of panic had me in its grip. I was so far out of my comfort zone, I may as well have been on the moon. Googling a map of France on my phone, I frantically scrutinised the names of places between here and Barcelona. But, of course, I recognised none of them; my sense of panic growing just as my phone buzzed.
Elena
What have you done? Made a *brilliant* decision, I reckon! Barcelona is cool, Tilly! Bars, restaurants, beaches – need I go on? Sagrada Familia, La Rambla… Jealous! Btw, Gareth turned up. He said you weren’t answering your phone and he assumed you were staying with me, so I told him you were on a flight to the USA. You should have seen his face! I don’t think he imagined you were going very far. He’s a dick, Tilly. Don’t think too much. Just have a ball.
Good friends were really the best. It was exactly what I needed to hear as suddenly I was furious again. Bloody Gareth being bloody patronising, thinking he knew me better than I knew myself; not thinking I was capable of going anywhere on my own. Any doubts I had vanished as I picked up my phone again and finishing my wine, I started googling Barcelona.
There was a fire inside me – probably for all the wrong reasons as it briefly crossed my mind that I should have felt sad – or at least, sadder than I did. But instead, as I pictured Gareth’s face, all I was thinking was,I’ll show him.
Harnessing my fury with Gareth, I gazed out of the window watching the landscape change, the colours of northern France turning to paler, more sun-bleached shades the further south we travelled. As daylight faded, I glimpsed a distant sea, a coast bedecked in twinkling lights.
It was dark by the time I arrived in Barcelona. Dragging my case, I found a hotel not far from the station, up a quiet backstreet. My room wasn’t fancy but it was clean and quiet. And small – too small for both me and my anger with Gareth. After depositing my suitcase, I went back out, determined to forget about Gareth, reminding myself instead there was much to be grateful for. And not just the obvious, like trains not being subject to the same disruptions as aeroplanes. As I was discovering, there was a long list of things the UK didn’t do very well. Train snacks were better here. Wine was cheaper; so were hotels. Also, by the way, so was the weather, which brought me full circle back to the whole reason I’d ended up here.
I stopped briefly to call Tallulah, partly to tell her where I’d gone, and mostly so that she knew that I’d picked myself up and was getting on with my life. The call went straight to her voicemail.
Hi. I’m calling to say goodbye. I’m in Barcelona. Tomorrow, I’m going to… Actually I’m not sure where I’m going yet. But I’m OK with that. I just wanted you to know. And also to thank you for listening to me.
Then switching off my phone, I focused on what Elena had said.Don’t think too much.They were wise words, and as it turned out, it was a lovely evening in Barcelona. Absolutely zero fog, for starters. I walked along streets buzzing with life, marvelling at the architecture as I discovered Elena was right. Barcelona really was the perfect place to break my journey, as uncertainty tripped me up again.Journey to where, exactly?
But somewhere along the course of today, my mind had distilled what the purpose of this trip was. And it was less about reaching San Jose and more about pushing myself to go somewhere new, that I was unfamiliar with. It didn’t matter that right now I didn’t have a plan. In fact, I needed to get more used to not having plans; to being more spontaneous. In any case, it was a decision that could wait until tomorrow, as I found a bar and ordered a glass of wine.
Now, as recently as a month ago, if anyone had told me I’d be sitting alone in a country I’d never been to before, I would have laughed at them.Me, Tilly, being brave enough to go away on her own? I’m sorry, but you’ve got the wrong person.
As I sat at a table waiting for my drink to arrive and watching the world go by, I was finding unexpected pleasure in my anonymity. I had only one brief moment of maudlin reflection. It was somewhat telling that it wasn’t for the house I’d left. It was for the trip to San Jose I’d been forced to abandon. But as I’d already worked out, that wasn’t important.
I had never ventured so far out of my comfort zone before and I could easily have started to panic again. But for some reason, I didn’t. If I really couldn’t do this, there was nothing to stop me going home – except perhaps for one, very small problem. Right now, I had no idea where home was.
You can always stay with Elena, I told myself, taking a sip of my wine as I started to panic again. Or as a last resort, for a little longer at least, I could have gone back to the house. But after a hell of a day, it wasn’t the time to be thinking about any of this. I needed to adjust to life being different; give myself a night, I told myself. A few hours’ sleep in a comfy hotel bed. Everything would look different in the morning.
I took another, larger sip of my wine – a luscious Rioja – then as I got out my phone and brought up a map of Europe, I looked up to see a woman sit down a couple of tables away. She was obviously younger than me. Her hair was a mass of long, unruly curls, and she was wearing jeans and a multicoloured jumper shaped like a poncho. But, what struck me most was how comfortable in her own skin she seemed, as she sat there alone and ordered a drink.
As I watched her, suddenly I realised it was more than that. It was the light in her eyes, her air of confidence that dimly reminded me of how I used to be.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed someone. Gazing past the woman, I felt the blood drain from my face. I stared in shock at the figure of a man.It couldn’t be.
As I watched him, it was as though I’d seen a ghost. Then as he turned, and I saw his face.
He wasn’t a ghost. This was the reason the Universe had conspired to bring me here. It really was him. A little older, as we all are, but definitely Adam Cameron. After half expecting to see him here, I wasn’t sure why I was so surprised. Adam had always had a knack of turning up when I reached a major milestone in my life.
