This is our childhood mantra, born the day we met outside Wisteria Cottage when he was nine and I was six. We knew each other instantly. Jack took my hand and we raced away from our parents, their warning to stay out of the sea ringing in our ears. On the little beach, Jack challenged me to take off my shoes and venture into the water, asking how far I’d go. Into the sea or to impress him, I wasn’t sure, but I waded in waist-deep with him by my side. This act of defiance was ours. Was us.
It’s the mantra which, in the summer before I went to university, saw us take a spontaneous trip to Amsterdam where we spent several days bar-hopping and eating hash brownies. And four years after that, on Jack’s twenty-fourth birthday, would have us crashing a wedding my best friend Margot was managing where, to her horror, Jack would give a speech at the happy couple’s reception so confidently no one would question whether he’d ever met them. It’s the glue that holds us together.
I think of the poison that dripped from Ruby’s mouth. Her words, her opinions, trickle into me and I am furious and humiliated all over again. Ada may have been complicit but, as always, it was Ruby who gathered the arsenic. Decision made, I raise my gaze to Jack’s. It’s impossible not to answer the way we always do. ‘How far won’t I go?’
Then we are in the car, speeding down twisting countryside lanes. This time, it is my hands that cover Jack’s eyes.
Chapter Three
26 Days Before
Elodie Fray
This morning, I’m catching a train to London to meet my agent. As I stand on the platform, I see two strangers darting these little looks at one another. Whenever their eyes meet, something passes between them and I think, this will either be the beginning of their story or just a footnote.
Noah and I started off as two strangers in a coffee shop on the South Bank. Because the longing, the need to write, had become too intense to ignore, I’d booked a few days off from my marketing job. Telling stories is my first, most long-lasting love. The best kind because the paper will never reject my pen. It is a lover I can’t quit and when I let it wrap its arms around me, it feels so good, I wonder why I’ve stayed away so long.
I was tapping away at my laptop when the waitress came over with a coffee I hadn’t ordered.
‘It’s from him.’ She nodded towards a man sitting in the corner. He was attractive, I’d guess slightly older than me, with dark hair and a wide mouth, the kind you know could produce a devastating smile.
My train pulls in. Around me, people rush to get on. I find my seat in the last carriage, pleased to see it’s almost empty. I should be going over my notes for the meeting but I’m still remembering.
He came to my table and introduced himself. ‘Noah Pine, like the tree.’
There was paint on his hands. Clay. ‘I’ve seen you in here every day for nearly a week,’ he said. His voice was deep and rich, the kind that led you through a sleep meditation. ‘You sit at this table, order a hot drink and you write.’
‘So, you’ve been watching me?’
‘Well, that sounds terrible. I’ve just … noticed you.’ And the way he looked at me, with heat and intrigue, sent a thrill through my body and colour across my cheeks. ‘The other day, this man comes in here with his dog off the lead. The thing shoots off, knocks some poor waitress over. It was a disaster. Coffee and cutlery everywhere. You didn’t even glance up. Just kept on writing and I thought, I have to know this woman. Read whatever she’s working on.’
I was right about his smile. It was devastating.
We sat and talked until closing. The easy conversation you only find between lifelong friends.
On our first official date, we went hiking up the Surrey Hills. At the top, we drank Prosecco and watched the sun set. When it grew dark, Noah built a little fire, and pulled marshmallows from his backpack. We roasted them on an open flame and the conversation flowed like warm water. He asked endless questions about my life and hung off my every word. He was attractive and kind and insightful and creative. I remember thinking the entire day was like something from a movie or the pages of a book, and I felt so lucky. With the embers smouldering before us and the night sky stretching above and the summer evening warming our skin, we kissed.
The first time Noah told me to quit my job, we were at a flea market. ‘You’re so alive when we talk about your book.’
‘I can’t just leave my career.’
‘Why not? I did. I walked out of the bank, took a pottery course, fell in love and started teaching at the college. Best decision I ever made. Besides sending that coffee to your table.’ We stopped at a stall selling second-hand books. ‘You’re born to write, Elodie. This marketing job is slowly killing you. You want to die having never done what you love?’ He picked up a book from the stall and said to the little old man behind it, ‘One day, you’ll be selling my girlfriend’s book.’