Page 78 of For One Moment With You
I pick up my phone to text Adam.
Tilly
Thank you. The flowers are beautiful.
I pause, wondering what he’s decided.
Tilly
Do you know where you’re going yet? Tilly xx
I press send, then instantly regret I didn’t type ‘love Tilly’. Not because I love him – though maybe I do. It’s possible to love someone as a very good friend, after all, and as friends go, they don’t get much better than Adam. Then because I’m overthinking things again, I text Elena.
Tilly
Hi! I’m back!! Fancy a coffee? Or wine? Sometime this week? Xxxx
That night, I sleep in my old bed, the house both familiar and alien to me. I awake early the next morning to leaden skies and rain that make me long to be back in Greece. Picking up my phone, I read the message from Elena.
Elena
Thank God. I’ll come over this afternoon if you’re not busy. xxx
I text her back.
Tilly
Come any time xxx
Then I read one from Adam.
Adam
Still undecided. Glad the flowers reached you. The sea’s stirred up this morning. I think there’s a storm on the way. Enjoy your stay. A xx
I can’t deny I’m disappointed that he doesn’t type ‘love Adam’. But then it’s not as though I typed ‘love Tilly’.
I get up and go to the wardrobes to find that everything of Gareth’s has gone. I’m impressed. Then as I go from room to room, I’m suspicious. It’s too tidy, too organised, in a way that is most definitely not Gareth’s style, which leads me to one conclusion, which is that Olivia has been here.
I imagine her going through our things, under the guise of helping him. Not at all liking how that feels, I think about texting him. But then I calm myself down. I wasn’t here, remember? And it’s done now. I need to get the hell out and start moving on with my life.
* * *
After getting up, I drive over to my father’s house. Now, I will be honest here. Much as I’m looking forward to seeing him, I’m secretly dreading the state I know the house will be in.
As I turn into the drive, I’m unprepared for the nostalgia that wallops me head on. But then it will always be a place of lifelong memories; and it’s exactly as it was when I left here – only three months ago, I remind myself.
Once parked, I get out, noticing the flower beds are tidy, that pinprick green shoots are poking through the earth.
As I stand there, the door opens and my dad steps outside, a broad smile stretching across his face. ‘Tilly! You should have said you were coming over. I didn’t know you were back.’
‘Hi, Dad.’ I hurry over and hug him tightly. ‘It’s really good to see you.’ He smells of home and my childhood rolled into one.
‘Come on in. I’ll put the kettle on.’
Now, this is the bit I haven’t been looking forward to, expecting the detritus of the months, a thick layer of dust, a grimy kitchen. But as I walk into it, to my utter astonishment, it’s neat and clean, one of the windows cracked open onto the garden.
Relief washes over me. ‘The place looks great, Dad.’
