Chapter 5

Jack

Did I make a start on that article? Nope. Did I spend all my time thinking about seeing Paisley this afternoon? Of course I did. To be fair, I’ve thought about her every single moment since we said goodbye yesterday. I think she’s coming around, she seemed less standoffish yesterday anyway, a little of our old chemistry coming back. We always did make a good team. Until I went and messed things up.

I should have handled things differently. But I didn’t. And as much as I wish I could change the past, reclaim those ten lost years with Paisley, I did what I did, and I had my reasons. It happened, and now all I can do is try to move forward.

I could be one of those cheesy blokes in a romance movie and say that being around her again has brought back all those old feelings, except, it hasn’t, because I never stopped loving her. Not once. Not for a second. Believe me, I tried.

Dating has been a nightmare. My longest relationship in the last ten years has been with my right hand. Any actual relationship hasn’t lasted longer than a couple of months. Because, why would they? None of them could ever match up to Paisley.

None of them had her sense of humour, her intelligence, her compassion. None of them had those bright blue eyes you can get lost in, that body I could wrap myself around forever, or that smile that makes men weak at the knees. I should know, the first time she smiled at me, I lost all sense of everything. I also lost my heart.

It was the first day of high school, and Elliott and I had snuck into one of the language rooms on the second floor before registration, watched the newbies arrive and line up nervously in the playground. I think we were just glad it wasn’t us again, we’d done it all the year before, were just happy we weren’t the lowest of the low anymore.

I’d spotted her almost immediately, the cute blonde already surrounded by a group of girls, chatting, laughing, making friends. And not in a queen bee kind of way either, more like the girl next door everyone gravitated towards. She’d not seemed nervous at all, curious and excited mainly, looking around, taking it all in. At one point she’d looked up at the window we were hanging out of, and the second we’d locked eyes, that she smiled, I knew. Her name had been called right at that point and she’d hurried off, but I’d turned to Elliott right then and there and simply said, ‘I’m going to marry that girl someday.’ Fuck. Maybe I am that guy in the romance movies.

I’m lost in thoughts of the past, thinking how I intentionally took the same bus home as her, even though it meant I had to walk further at the other end because it was actually out of my way, am pondering on how our friendship took two years to develop into something more, when she taps on the window of my car.

“You going to sit there all day?” she asks.

A quick glance at my watch tells me I pulled up five minutes ago and I scramble out the car. “Sorry, was just reminiscing.”

She rolls her eyes. “Sitting outside my house giving you flashbacks?”

“Something like that. Your parents weren’t happy when I knocked on the door for our first date, you hadn’t even told them. I remember your dad telling me you were too young at fourteen, trying to send me home.”

She smiles but wipes it off her face quickly. “Yeah, they weren’t keen on us at first. Maybe they had a point.”

“Don’t do that,” I say.

“What?”

“Doubt what we had. I may only have been fifteen, but I knew how I felt, and so did you. And you know I had feelings for you long before that.”

She falls silent and I realise my tone was quite forceful and so I take her hand, squeeze it and then bring it to my lips, kiss it softly. “Sorry, I’m sleep deprived and still lacking an article for the boss. Forgive me?”

She nods but says nothing, eyes dropping to the ground as she heads back up the steps to the house. The Paisley of back then wouldn’t have let me get away with that, would have called me out on it. She was headstrong, bold. Not anymore. Well, maybe a little when I turned up to help her fix this wedding. It was nice seeing that glimpse of the old her.

Events back then changed her though. They changed all of us.

****

Paisley sighs deeply. “I must have rung every bakery in a hundred-mile radius, and not one of them can help with a wedding cake by Monday. We’re screwed.”

She slumps down at the kitchen table, dejected and deflated. It’s scattered with printouts, photos, and a notepad with more crossing out than my GCSE maths book.

“Is it worth talking to the original bakery again?” I ask.

“I tried. She got very offended that I even asked.”

“Fuck. Okay, so, what are our options now?”

She smiles sadly. “What are your baking skills like?”

“I can burn water. You?”

“I’m not quite that bad, but my skill set doesn’t extend to a four-tier orange and lemon wedding cake,” she replies as she pushes a photo towards me.

It’s beautiful. Very Flora. And very much beyond me and Paisley. But there is one person I know who could help. Would probably enjoy it immensely, actually. But it might mean I have to explain things even sooner. Fuck. But Flora and Elliot’s wedding comes first.

“Come on, I’ve got an idea,” I say, picking up the photo as I grab her hand and pull her to her feet. “You won’t even need to turn on the charm. But it will involve a bit of shopping.”

I pull up outside a small cottage on the outskirts of town just fifteen minutes later and look over at Paisley, waiting for her reaction. It’s a cottage that’s familiar to both of us, and one that despite her having not visited for ten years, Paisley recognises instantly.

“We cannot ask Elaine to make a wedding cake,” she says as she shifts in her seat to face me.

“Gran’s love of baking hasn’t changed in the last ten years, Pais. She’ll love that we asked.”

“She’s got to be over eighty by now, let her take it easy, she doesn’t need this hassle.”

“Turned eighty-two last month. And she can say no if she isn’t feeling up to it. But I think she might surprise you.”

“Surprise me?”

“Yeah, she’s … a little different to the woman you used to know,” I say, aware I’ve started to fidget. “Granddad isn’t with us anymore.”

Paisley’s face falls. “No! I’m so sorry. He was always so lovely to me, and he talked you up all the time.”

I can’t help but smile as I remember him. “Yeah, he always said he had to do that around you because I was punching above my weight. Told me I should marry you one day.”

The colour that pinks up her cheeks is sweet, but I also swear I see a tiny smile flicker across those lips. Interesting.

“Don’t blush Pais, I said one day. Today ain’t that day.”

Oh, and now that blush deepens, and yeah, that’s definitely a smile, albeit with a shake of her head too. It’s not until we’re at the door and have rung the bell that she speaks again.

“How did he pass? Was it recent?”

Keep it simple, Jack, keep it simple. “A while back, heart attack.”

The door is pulled open just as Paisley gives my hand a comforting squeeze. And Gran doesn’t miss it. She never misses a thing.

“Paisley Harrison. Well, well, well, it’s about time we saw you back around these parts. And it’s just like old times with the pair of you holding hands out here on this porch.”

“It’s not the only thing we did out here,” I mutter, only to get an elbow to the ribs from Paisley.

Gran either doesn’t hear me, or chooses to ignore me, instead pulling Paisley in for a hug before she hurries off inside, calling for us to ‘come along’ because she’s in the middle of a Davina McCall workout DVD.

“When you said she’s a little different,” Paisley whispers as she leans in, “I didn’t think you meant she’d developed a love of neon Lycra and keep fit.”

“Sorry. I should have said, Granddad’s passing turned her into a live for the moment kind of woman. The homely, cuddly grandma stereotype is no more. Now she’s got a better social life than me, always off travelling with her friends, lives for the day. And it suits her.”

Paisley grins. “It does. I love that for her. That happiness after her loss.”

“Me too. She’s not the only one that can have that though.”

She looks away, stares at a photo of my grandparents for a moment, and then heads through to the living room where she’s greeted by the sight of a fluorescent green arse sticking up in the air.

Once she’s finished her workout and we’ve explained the situation, Gran gets busy making up a list for us to get from the store.

“Oh, I’ll need some colouring too, she says, scrawling. “So, four tiers, the second from bottom a pale yellow, others white, large pale orange fondant flowers flowing down one side. Easy. Now tell me all about the two of you. Is there hope for my favourite ever couple?”