‘You clever old thing,’ says Sam, reaching for my hand across the table, then flashing me a huge smile as he notices I’m wearing my rings. ‘Now we really are celebrating.’
‘Well done, Mummy. Can I start waitering now?’ Felix asks brightly.
‘Yes, go for it.’
Felix launches into a long speech about how it’s customary to tip your waiter, ideally at least ten per cent of the cost of the meal. He caveats that if we don’t have any cash, he’s happy to take Lego, and if we don’t have any Lego, he’s willing to take an IOU.
‘Okay, I think it might be the waiter’s bedtime,’ says Sam, pushing back his chair. ‘Thank you for your help setting this up, Felix.’
‘No! I haven’t told you the specials!’ Felix cries as Sam picks him up, throws him over his shoulder and carries him out of the room, squealing with laughter.
Once our over-enthusiastic waiter has been dispatched to bed, Sam serves up a delicious-looking vegetable lasagne, then raises his glass to mine.
‘To you and me, Luce, to making new memories,’ he says, holding my gaze.
‘I will drink to that,’ I say.
For dessert Sam pulls out a smooth mocha gateau from the fridge. Something about it looks familiar, and then I realise. ‘It’s just like the one my mum bought me for my tenth birthday.’
‘I got your mum to dig out a photo, then asked the bakery to copy it.’
‘That’s so thoughtful, Sam, thank you,’ I say, leaning across the table to kiss him. This evening feels like the perfect way to say goodbye, but at the same time, it’s making me realise I don’t want this to end.
We stay up far too late, getting drunk on cake, wine and each other’s company. On our way to bed I sneak into Amy’s room, to watch her sleeping in the soft glow of her night light. She looks so cosy and peaceful, her small pink fingers clutching Neckie, her smooth round cheeks glowing rosy pink, the quiet snuffle of her breathing. My heart feels so full of love for this child, I could watch her sleep all night long. Reaching out to tuck a curl of hair behind her ear, I whisper, ‘Goodbye, little one, I’ll see you again. I hope I’ll see you again.’ And then I need to leave, or I’ll start crying.
When Sam and I eventually collapse into bed, I feel sated, physically and emotionally.
‘Thank you for a lovely evening,’ I say to Sam.
‘I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,’ he says firmly, his eyes glinting in amusement. ‘I don’t usually take you for thousand-pound meals on a week night.’
‘I will temper my expectations,’ I say, edging closer to him on the bed.
His eyes grow serious. ‘I don’t want you to feel jealous of some alternate version of yourself. You are her, you know that, right?’
‘I do,’ I tell him, and then he pulls me towards him, cocooning me in his arms.
‘I heard you talking to Felix earlier,’ he says quietly, ‘about leaving.’
‘Ah.’
‘Where are you off to?’
I sit up in bed. If this is goodbye, then Sam deserves the truth, whether he believes it or not. ‘Say, theoretically, I had found the portal, the one Felix thought had transported me here from the past. Say, that I don’t have amnesia, but I time-travelled here and now I have the chance to go back.’ I look into his eyes, waiting for scepticism or laughter, but his face is serious.
‘And will this be a permanent departure? Or are you coming back?’ he asks, and I shrug.
‘If my life works out the same, probably. But nothing is guaranteed.’
We sit in silence for a moment. Then Sam says, ‘Then don’t go. Wherever it is you think you’re going, don’t. I don’t want to risk losing you.’
‘It’s sixteen years of my life, Sam—’
He cuts me off. ‘I love you – you, not who you were, not who you’re going to be, or who you might have been – just you. Please stay with me.’
As far as speeches go, it’s pretty effective. I am putty in his hands and more confused than ever. He flips me onto my back, then dips his head to kiss my shoulder, my neck, planting light, soft kisses along my jaw. We fit together so perfectly; it feels impossible I could end up anywhere but here. As his mouth finds mine, a familiar giddy feeling courses through me. My hands clasp his broad back, and I close my eyes, succumbing to the heady waves of pleasure.
But then he stops, pulls back, and I open my eyes to see what’s wrong. ‘Look at me,’ he says. ‘I want you to look at me.’
Now I see with aching clarity – my heart has filled in the gaps, even if my brain has not caught up.
‘Sam, I love you.’ It’s the first time I’ve said it, but as the words leave my mouth, I know it’s the truest thing I’ve ever said.
There is something different between us now, something beyond the physical. We make love slowly, quietly, and I try to seal it deep inside, this exquisite feeling of intimacy.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asks, holding me afterwards.
I mustn’t cry, I don’t want to ruin what could be our last night together.
God, I hope I end up here – please let me end up here, in this life, with this man. Then the thought takes hold that I should stay, that I shouldn’t risk this, that I would sacrifice sixteen years to have this. These are not the thoughts that are going to allow me to get back.
As we lie spent in the dark, I whisper, ‘Thank you.’
‘For what?’
‘For everything – for being you, for loving me through everything, for this life we’ve made.’
‘That sounds like a goodbye,’ Sam says, stroking his fingers gently down my arm. He starts humming softly beside me, murmuring words of a song I haven’t heard before.
‘You wrote something?’ I ask, my eyes welling with tears.
‘Just the start of something silly.’
‘What’s it called?’ I ask.
‘ “Stay for All the Pocket Days”。 It’s not finished, I was just messing around.’
‘I like the sound of it. You should finish it.’
‘Okay,’ he says plainly.
‘Okay?’
‘Okay.’
And then he wraps his arms around me, as though he never wants to let me go, and softly sings me to sleep.
I must be in a deep sleep because I sleep through the alarm. When I wake, Sam is gone, and there’s a note on his pillow.
Doing the school run, then coming back to work on my new song : ） Don’t go anywhere, please.
I bite my lip, feeling myself grin. I love it when he leaves notes on the pillow, like that time on our honeymoon in Italy, where he left me notes in Italian that I couldn’t even read.
On our honeymoon. In Italy.
Our honeymoon. In Italy.
Shit. I remember our honeymoon.
Chapter 34
Am I too late? Have I missed my chance? This memory is clearer than any of the glimpses I have had before. I remember Italy, the hotel, the crazy couple in the room next door. I remember all of it. I have to get to London, now.
Throwing on my clothes, I run out of the door. It’s eight thirty, nobody is here. Dashing past Felix’s room, I see something that makes me jerk to a halt and retrace my steps. The remote for the lava lamp, for the heart we built – it’s on the floor by his desk. He’s got the project fair this morning, it won’t work without the remote. He’ll be so disappointed, like that time he made a spider out of Meccano. The Meccano spider, with only five legs, I can picture it perfectly.