Almost Forever Read online

  ‘I know you love me, Paul, but finding your letters and all those little beautiful things you collected for me made me feel as if we never really lost a day of those three years we spent apart. You were always in my heart, always in my thoughts, and now I know I was in yours and we were never really apart.’ I sigh closing my eyes and just pretend, for a minute, that everything is back to normal.

  ‘When you wake up, I’ll apologise to you for the pain in the arse that I was when I was a teenager,’ I promise him, with every intention to keep my word.

  ‘I was silly, I was young, and I was unsure of how to deal with the immensity of my feelings for you. I was only able to see my side of the story and I doubted that you were as invested in us as you wanted me to believe. Your mother opened my eyes and showed me who you really were. Luckily for me, she never told you about the pep talk she gave me just after the party you threw for my eighteenth birthday, because I would be so embarrassed if she did, but she was the one who made me understand that if I didn’t take a chance, there would be no future for us.’

  I place my open palm over his heart and think back again to that summer.

  ***

  It was the morning after my birthday party so I waited until almost midday before waking up Harry to ask him about Paul. Drowsily, as he was suffering from an almighty hangover, he told me that his brother had gone back to California, and that his visit was only supposed to last for a few hours. He said that Paul had flown in especially for my party, but he was doing his work experience and he couldn’t take more than a day off until the assignment was complete, if he wanted the credits for it.

  Harry sounded sincere and I did believe him. I also believed that Paul had lied to him about the real reason he was going back to California. Paul left because of the way I treated him and now we were done. Frustrated that I hadn’t told Harry the truth and angry with myself for what happened with Paul, I spent the days that followed his departure in a self-imposed exile with only ice cream and bad movies to keep me company. Every night I would dream of what I had lost, and I cried myself to sleep.

  After a week of this misery, Harry stopped fussing about me and left me to sulk in my own despair, which was exactly what I had wanted. So, with no one nagging me, I spent most of my time in my bedroom, and only when the villa was quiet, as the staff went in their quarters for their afternoon break, would I go into the lounge with Josephine.

  I liked the peaceful calm that emanated from her. We were happy to be in the same room for hours without talking. We just sat there together in comfortable silence. Usually, I found that soothing, but that day I was particularly restless so, trying my best to keep my body still and relaxed, I slumped on one of the sofas with a book, and Josephine’s quiet presence caused me distress.

  Paul had been gone a week and two days and the hours had started to stretch into infinity. I hadn’t heard anything from him yet and even if I knew I had to be the one to take the first step this time, I didn’t have the emotional experience to know what to do.

  Paul had spent the past year trying to show me his feelings and I’d spent just as long denying my own for him because I was too scared. Now, he hadn’t tried to contact me since he left and that spoke volumes. I bet that my lack of action wasn’t going unnoticed either. My mind was a vortex of thoughts; I tried to steer them in a positive direction. Happy Thought Number One: I was off to Cambridge in less than a month. Number Two: I had great friends. Number Three: I was on holiday in St-Tropez. Number Four: I’d become an auntie as soon as Becca’s baby was born. Number Five … Six … Seven …

  I knew I could find a million reasons why my life was great, compared to the single one that made me miserable, but I didn’t feel any better.

  I sighed.

  My life was great, but since Paul had left and seemingly cut ties between us for good, I could not quite bring myself to smile. I let out another big sigh at the misery that was my own making.

  ‘What’s wrong, Fran?’ Josephine’s question drifted across the room to me.

  I looked up from the book that was now lying open on my lap, and met Josephine’s inquisitive eyes. She was sitting in her favourite chair across the room, as always, listening to classical music.

  ‘Nothing’s wrong,’ I replied with a quick smile and an automated response rather than the truth.

  ‘Really, darling? Your numerous sighs say otherwise,’ she insisted gently.

  ‘Really,’ I said, trying to infuse my words with conviction. ‘I promise.’ I crossed my heart while lying through my teeth.

  Everything was wrong but I wasn’t about to admit it, not even to her, not even to myself. I had never felt so sad and confused and lost in my life. There was no right way to explain all of it, so I smiled and went back to my book. Well, I went back to looking at the words, feigning reading. With that I considered the conversation to be over, but she clearly didn’t agree and kept prodding instead.

  ‘What are you reading?’ she asked, interested, or at least pretending it to be.

  ‘Cicero, De re publica,’ I answered without elaborating further.

  ‘Any good?’

  I wasn’t really a big fan of Cicero but this was part of the reading list for the Michaelmas term so I had little choice but to read it. I didn’t want to go deeper into it, so I just said, ‘Excellent.’ I spoke a bit too loudly as if the volume of my voice would make my lies a little more convincing. She raised an eyebrow, unconvinced of my answer. The truth was that I was stuck on the second paragraph, unsure of what the real topic was. Cicero’s style was made up of long, convoluted paragraphs and with my thoughts that kept wandering back to Paul, I was unable to focus on the words in front of me.

  Josephine then asked with a sardonic smile, ‘If that book is so captivating, why haven’t you turned a page in the last fifteen minutes?’

  ‘It’s not a straightforward translation,’ I replied genuinely, because I was indeed struggling with it.

  ‘Surely someone who managed an A* in A-level Latin and will be attending Cambridge University to study Classics should be able to do better than stopping at page one. Am I right?’ Her tone was teasing and I had to admit she had a very good point.

  Still, I shrugged and looked down, as I didn’t know what else to say. She was right: in any normal circumstance I would have been able to translate this with not that much effort, but right now my brain was really not engaged. When I heard Josephine stand up, I raised my gaze to look at her.

  She walked slowly towards the sofa, leaving the portable oxygen where it was. She was still so beautiful even if the emphysema that was destroying her lungs was progressing inexorably fast, making her weaker and more tired than I ever remembered her to be. When she sat next to me, and put her hand on my arm, I was surprised by the strength she still had in such a frail body.

  My first instinct had been to lie and then, after excusing myself, run back to my room, but in that moment of closeness, I realised that I didn’t want to hide behind a book any more, that I didn’t want to lie. All I wanted was to confide in Josephine and ask her for advice, so I hoped to slowly move the topic towards Paul, but she started the conversation, getting straight to the point.

  ‘I’ve noticed that you’ve been distracted, a little absent, in the past few days,’ she said. ‘You haven’t eaten properly and, given the dark circles under your eyes, I think you’ve not slept much either.’ She paused for a second then continued. ‘It may be just a coincidence but, it seems to me, that you’ve been quite unhappy since Paul left. I know that it’s upsetting that he had to leave so soon but Paul jumped through hoops to arrange that one single day off he took, to be here for your birthday.’

  ‘Harry said Paul needed to go back to the States,’ I said with a small laugh as if we all knew that was just a lie.

  ‘Maybe Paul didn’t tell you, but he organised every single detail of your party; he even had a backup plan in case he wasn’t going to make it. It was a very stressful endeavour even if he played i
t “cool” every time I asked him. I was worried he was going to jeopardise all the hard work he did for his work experience just to have the chance to talk to you.’

  Confusion clouded my mind with her words. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I thought he told you about it.’

  ‘No, we … ehm … we well, we argued and then he left. So, I assumed …’ but I couldn’t finish my sentence.

  ‘Oh, I see.’ She was looking at me with mellow eyes and a smile that showed understanding.

  She turned her gaze to the window for a few seconds, as if she was searching for the right thing to say. Then, looking back at me, she asked me a question instead, ‘Are you in love with Paul?’

  I was taken aback that she could be so frank, so forthcoming with her honestly, so I pretended not to understand what she was really asking me.

  ‘Of course, I love him! We basically grew up together,’ I said, trying to hide the real meaning of my words.

  ‘Sure, you love him but that’s not what I asked you. Are you in love with him, Francesca?’

  I couldn’t face her. I was just too embarrassed to see her expression while I said, ‘I … Yes, I think I am.’

  ‘Did you tell him that?’ she asked. I shook my head, too emotional to speak. Josephine held my hands in hers.

  ‘Fran, look at me, darling.’ I slowly turned to face her, lifting my eyes to her again. ‘I’m so sorry you’re in pain. Being in love sometimes brings more sorrow than joy.’

  I stared at her with wide eyes and said, ‘I didn’t think you had that in your life – sorrow, I mean. Especially around love. You and Albert have always been so perfect together.’

  She gave me a knowing look. ‘Oh, darling, I’ve had plenty of heartache in my life. I even broke my engagement with Albert at one point … I still remember the pain,’ she said sadly.

  ‘I didn’t know,’ I said and she nodded.

  ‘Albert’s aunt, Lady Cordelia, threatened to disinherit him if he didn’t break up with me. I didn’t want him to have to choose between me and his family, so I broke up with him first, gave him back the ring and saved him from having to make a choice.’

  ‘What did Albert do?’

  ‘He laughed and slid his engagement ring back into place, told me that was where it was going to stay. He said that as long as he had me, he was the richest man on Earth. He didn’t need the FitzRoys’ money, nor a family that threatened his happiness. His aunt was true to her words, and cut him off, but he stayed with me as he promised.’

  ‘That is so romantic, Josephine. Albert really loves you.’

  ‘He was also as stubborn as a mule, listening to no reason, but I’m just glad he didn’t let me get away, because he is, and always has been, the only one for me.’

  I turned from her, blinking quickly to stop the tears from coming.

  ‘Paul has inherited that from his dad – the stubbornness – but you gave him lots more grief than I ever did to Albert.’

  I blushed at her words.

  ‘I would like to ask you not to stretch Paul too much more, Fran, because even someone as resilient as Paul has a breaking point, and if you love him, I think you should tell him that sooner rather than later.’

  ‘I doubt he wants to hear that from me right now, or ever for that matter,’ I said with a shrug.

  She coughed deeply, then said, ‘I’m proud of the man Paul has become and not just for his success in school, not just the greatness I know he will achieve in the future, but for the brave, kind, and respectful person he has grown into. He has a soft side too, Fran, and you are at the centre of it, so I don’t want to tell you what you should do, but I want to warn you because if anyone can ever break that boy, that person is you.’

  My cheeks flared so I lowered my eyes, worried about the damage that I may have already done to a chance of a relationship with him.

  I took a moment to think about all the loving things he had done for me over the years, the presents he’d bought me, the way he’d supported or challenged me.

  ‘Don’t do anything that you may grow to regret,’ Josephine said, holding my hands.

  I nodded.

  ‘I love you, Francesca, as much I love Paul. I want to see you both happy, and you are both just so miserable, without each other,’ Josephine said fiercely. ‘It’s about time you talked to him honestly about your feelings and made a decision about the future once and for all.’

  ‘How am I supposed to do that when he’s on the other side of the planet?’ I asked her but not necessarily expecting an answer.

  ‘Well, that problem is easily resolved. Paul is arriving tomorrow and will stay until the summer party.’

  ‘Really?’ I asked her, trying to catch the breath that whooshed out of me at the news.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, then added, ‘Maybe when you see him, just let your heart speak first. I’m quite sure you will make much better progress that way.’

  Her laugh was girlish and flirty, a throwback to the old Josephine, a reminder that her spirit was alive and well. I looked at her, processing her words.

  ‘Although if I were you, I would run into his arms and kiss him until you are both out of breath … but that’s just me’ she said casually and I had to laugh at her straightforward suggestion.

  ‘You are so French, Josephine!’ I said in between giggles.

  ‘Sans aucun doute,’ she replied with a conspiratorial wink.

  Before long, her laugh turned itself into a cough. I knew that cough so well and it made me worried. It started, as always, in her throat and then grew deeper and deeper until I knew she would struggle to breathe. She would then get wheezy and start to choke. I hated that there was nothing I could do to help her, because she just needed to ride it out on her own.

  I held her hand in support but after almost a minute she was still coughing. I realised she wasn’t catching her breath so I started to worry even more. This was much worse than ever before.

  ‘Shall I call Marie?’ I asked her as I watched her struggle, gasping for air.

  She nodded, collapsing onto the sofa next to me as I called for Marie, but with the door shut I knew she wouldn’t be able to hear me. Not wanting to leave Josephine alone, I took my mobile and called Harry.

  ‘Harry!’ I shouted into the phone when he finally picked up. ‘Go get Marie … it’s your mum. She’s not well. We are in the drawing room. Come quickly! As quick as you can – she’s not breathing,’ I said, dropping the phone to support her weight.

  It took a few hours for her to recover from the attack. When she fell asleep I left her room, closing the door softly behind me.

  ‘She’s asleep,’ I said to Harry as he walked towards me.

  ‘I was coming up to tell her that my dad just phoned – he’s on his way. He’ll be here tonight,’ Harry said. ‘Paul is at the airport already. He’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.’

  He looked at me, then said, ‘Fran, stop worrying. There is nothing else we can do tonight.’

  ‘I know,’ I said, unable to do what he was asking.

  ‘Let’s go for a swim, to clear our minds,’ he suggested and I shrugged.

  He put his hands on my shoulders, claiming my full attention, then said, ‘It has been a stressful day, so please, please, please, can we just relax for five minutes and go for a swim? I’ll get Robert too … we’ll have some fun before dinner.’ He then made his well-tested and over-rehearsed super-cute-puppy-dog-pleading expression, knowing I wouldn’t be able to resist it.

  ‘Fine, fine! I’ll come,’ I said, throwing my arms in the air as a sign of defeat.

  Chapter Eleven

  The day went by very slowly. Harry came over at seven so that we could have some dinner together. He brought me my tablet and my e-reader, as well as my PJs, toothbrush, and toothpaste.

  ‘I’m impressed; you’ve not forgotten anything,’ I tell him.

  ‘Of course. I’m a professional burglar,’ he answers with a smile, then looks at me seriously for a second.
‘Talking about burglary though, I was wondering, what happened in your bedroom?’

  ‘Oh!’ I say, covering my mouth with my hand, remembering that I left the entire contents of Paul’s suitcase scattered on the bed.

  ‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Harry says quickly. ‘I was just curious, given the mess and the, err, peculiarity of the items. That’s all …’

  ‘I was looking for the silver ring Paul bought me for my fifteenth birthday.’

  ‘Ehm …’

  ‘The figure-of-eight knot,’ I remind him.

  ‘Oh, yes. I remember how you wore it as if it was a Cartier,’ he teases me with a nudge of his elbow.

  ‘I guess, in sentimental value, it’s way more expensive than a Cartier,’ I tell him, keeping my tone light even if I’m quite sad that I can’t find it anywhere. I promise myself that I’ll look for it again, the next time I go home – when Paul wakes up. The thought is quite exciting.

  ‘Anyway, I was looking for it and I went up in the attic.’ I see a frown appear on his face, but I dismiss his concern for my safety and continue. ‘I found that old leather suitcase there. It was supposed to be Paul’s present for my eighteenth birthday. He never gave it to me.’ I can’t keep the longing out of my voice. ‘He wrote me letters and collected stuff for me after he left for Stanford – little tokens from his holidays, his travels. He thought of me, even when we were not together,’ I tell him.

  ‘I never understood what happened between you guys then,’ he says, fishing for an explanation I don’t want to give him. It all started with that kiss on the beach in St-Tropez and I don’t want to dig it up now, after we haven’t talked about it in twelve years.

  ‘Distance happened,’ I say to him instead, choosing one of the sandwiches from the plate and taking a tentative bite. I’m glad when he just accepts my explanation and doesn’t ask for further enlightenment.

  ‘Harry, I was thinking that we should, perhaps, start looking for experimental treatments?’ I say, picking at the sandwich.

  He looks at me, but I can’t quite tell what he’s thinking, so I give him a little more insight into my plan.