Truly, Madly, Deeply. Romantic Novelist's Association

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СКАЧАТЬ ‘You had your orders for the new client and you deliberately disobeyed them.’

      ‘Excuse me?’ Even for Mum’s horrible boyfriend, this was a step too far. Angrily, I whipped the now crumpled sheet of paper out from my back pocket and brandished it. ‘You mean this? I think you’ll find, Trevor, that this is a suggestion, not an order. It’s a suggestion because you don’t actually work here or employ me, therefore I’m not obliged to obey it whatsoever.’ I turned to Mum. ‘And I would have hoped, Mum, that you would have just a little more faith in your daughter. For your information, I was investing time in our new client in order to ensure he received the best service from Sunnyside and kept ordering from us. I happen to think that’s more important than impressing your boyfriend.’

      Mum looked from me to her fuming other half and back. ‘Well, I…I think it’s good to protect our client list…but really the time on your round is quite a bit longer than the other drivers…not that I think you’re doing a bad job, obviously.’

      ‘Thank you.’ Ignoring the daggers of death Trev was now willing at me with his stare, I calmly handed my clipboard to Mum and walked into the staffroom to collect my things.

      The more I considered Mr Gardner’s request that weekend, the more intrigued I became: so much so that by Monday morning I could bear it no longer and took a detour at the end of my round to visit Mrs C.

      ‘Emily! What a lovely surprise. Come in, dear.’

      When we were sitting with china mugs of tea and large slices of homemade ginger cake, I broached the subject of the photograph.

      ‘I have a favour to ask,’ I began, studying her expression carefully. ‘Last Friday, I went to see a new client who has recently returned to the area and he mentioned The Rialto Ballroom.’

      ‘Really? How funny.’

      ‘I know. I said as much to him and then I happened to mention that I’d been shown a photo of it that morning. With hindsight, I realise I shouldn’t have said anything, but it took me by surprise and I mentioned the photograph before I thought better of it. The thing is he reacted very oddly when I told him the date the photo was taken. I think he might have been there the same time as you. And I know I probably shouldn’t ask, but I wondered if I might borrow the photo, just to show it to him?’

      Mrs C observed me quietly and stirred her tea.

      Instantly, I regretted asking. ‘Obviously if you say no I’ll completely understand,’ I added.

      ‘How old is this gentleman?’ she asked, her expression giving nothing away.

      ‘To be quite honest, I don’t know. It’s difficult to tell.’

      ‘Hmm.’ I watched the silver spoon make several more rotations. ‘The photograph is very precious to me, Emily. When I was in Canada it was the one thing that reminded me of home, of who I really was. Of the life that might be waiting…’ Her eyes were very still, focused a thousand miles away. ‘You have to understand that when I went to Canada I had to become somebody different: someone’s mother, someone’s wife. And for many years, I felt like my life wasn’t my own. Remembering who I’d been in England gave me strength enough to return years later. The photograph was a big part of that.’

      Her candidness hit me like a fist to the stomach. I knew she hadn’t had an easy life in Canada but I’d never appreciated how much of herself she’d been asked to give. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Forget I did, OK?’

      She shook her head. ‘No, it’s lovely that you asked. I know how precious my memories are: if this gentleman wants to see the photograph to bring back his, I see no reason why he shouldn’t.’ She reached for the photograph album by the side of her armchair, turned its pages and gently removed the picture. ‘There. Take good care of it.’

      My hands were shaking as I accepted. ‘Thank you, Mrs C. I promise I will.’

      I called Mr Gardner as soon as I returned to my van, but there was no reply. Disappointed, I placed the photograph carefully in my work diary and drove back.

      For the next three days, none my attempts to reach Mr Gardner were successful. By Friday, my anticipation was at bursting point and my delivery round seemed to take an age before I was finally driving down the steep streets of St Merryn.

      Waiting on the doorstep of his cottage, my heart was thudding against the cardboard box I held. I wanted to see his face when I produced the photograph, excited to see him reunited with a piece of his past.

      The door opened and a young man appeared, taking me completely by surprise. It was as if I was meeting Mr Gardner over fifty years ago: his eyes were the same sapphire blue, his frame as tall and his hair as thick, albeit a dark mass of black-brown rather than silver.

      ‘Hi,’ he smiled, and my world seemed to spin momentarily. ‘You must be the famous Emily. Come in.’

      As I shakily entered the hallway, he shouted over his shoulder. ‘Dad! Delivery!’

      Tim appeared at the far end of the hall. ‘Ah, Emily! I see you’ve met Ethan. You see, son? I told you she was beautiful.’

      Flushed, I hurried past him and began to unpack the meals.

      ‘I’m sorry I missed your calls,’ Tim said, as Ethan joined us.

      ‘That’s OK. I have a surprise for you.’ I closed the fridge door, opened my work diary and handed him Mrs C’s photograph.

      For a moment, Tim appeared to wobble and Ethan rushed forward to steady his father. Sitting on a kitchen stool, he stared at the photo.

      ‘Dad?’

      ‘I’m fine, son. This just takes me back…’ He looked at me. ‘Can I ask the name of the person who gave this to you?’

      ‘I’m not sure I should say.’

      He nodded. ‘Of course. But it looks so familiar. If I didn’t know better I’d swear…’ Slowly, he turned the picture over and closed his eyes. ‘T.W.M.A.’

      Ethan and I watched helplessly as Tim’s loud sobs filled the kitchen.

      ‘What if she says no?’

      ‘Dad, you can’t think of that. You said it yourself, you had a connection once.’

      ‘I don’t know. What did you tell her, Emily?’

      I smiled at Tim. ‘I said I had a surprise for her and that I was taking her out for afternoon tea.’

      Tim Gardner’s face was pale as he hovered in the lobby of the hotel, wringing his hands. ‘I didn’t think she would come. What do I say to her after all these years?’

      ‘You start with, “Here’s the photograph that I gave you.”’ Ethan grinned at me and I found myself grinning back. Like father, like son…

      ‘When I handed Genevieve that picture my heart was breaking,’ Tim said, gazing through the glass door that separated him from the girl who walked out of his life sixty-two years ago. ‘She was leaving for Canada the next day. I penciled “T.W.M.A” on the back to remind her I was waiting: Till We Meet Again. I told СКАЧАТЬ