I used to bring my nature books down here with Dad so we could identify each type of bramble and scrubland plant by name. It was blissful, carefree. Then, as a teenager, I used to run along the coastline for miles, fuelled by fresh air and an urgent need to fill my head with something other than noise. And then there were the endless days and nights of that summer I spent here with Kieran and his twin brother, Elliot. Swimming, drinking, laughing, loving, living.
For the first time in my life I was happy. I thought nothing could ever go wrong. How naïve I was.
I sit down and absent-mindedly draw a ring in the sand with my finger and then brush it away with my palm.
‘I thought I’d find you here.’
When I hear his voice I stiffen and my heart stops. I feel the oxygen flood from my body and my chest heave and swell with panic. It’s like I’m hyperventilating – thank God I’m already sitting down or I’d probably faint again. I glance over my shoulder and seeing him now has the same impact as it did at the church. He unbalances me; I’m instantly on terra un -firma. Unanchored. Untethered. I can already feel myself slipping helplessly back to my past.
‘Hi,’ Kieran says simply and his smile sends filtered sunshine into his mossy green eyes. The sun is shining directly behind him, circling him with an aura of light that makes him seem ethereal, angelic almost. He looks the same, despite the years that have passed. He looks like his brother.
I gaze down at the sand, feeling my heart rise and dip like the boats on the distant horizon. I can’t let him see that he has unearthed me.
‘What are you doing here?’ I say evenly, trying to turn away from him. But once again the tight fishtail dress has rendered me incapable of movement. I’m like a mermaid thrashing helplessly at the water’s edge. When I look at him I feel like I’m both blinded by the beautiful summer we spent together and tainted by what tore us apart.
‘I know I shouldn’t be here,’ he says ruefully, ‘but I wanted to check you were OK. After all, I’m not averse to running away from things myself . . .’ He looks down and kicks his foot in the sand. He’s not dressed for a wedding, I notice. He’s wearing a T-shirt and jeans, leather bracelets adorn his wrist, a necklace with the letter E hangs around his neck.
I remember us being on this same beach vowing to wear our promise rings as the waves crashed behind us and our hearts pounded against each other’s chests and the tears fell from our eyes.
One year , he’d whispered into my mouth as I kissed him again and again, desperately clinging to him like a mollusc to a rock. One year and I’ll be back for you .
Do you promise?
I do.
I blink and see the same silver ring on his finger, even now after all this time. The ring I saw when I was walking down the aisle. I’d worn mine on my right hand for a whole year until I moved to London, where eventually, reluctantly, at Milly’s persuasion, I buried it in a suitcase of memories. A month later I met Adam. I should be wearing his ring now. Would I be wearing it if Kieran hadn’t come back?
I think of Adam standing in the church doorway, and imagine myself back there.
What have I done?
Chapter 7
Bea Bishop has changed her name to Bea Hudson.
Relationship status: ‘Married’.
I look around at our guests covertly as I change my Facebook profile, my wedding ring glinting as I tap expertly away on my phone. I know straight after the wedding ceremony and during the formal wedding photos on the lawn is not a particularly appropriate moment to do this, but the guests are happily talking and laughing, milling around in front of the marquee like brightly coloured ballroom dancers, and in this moment, I have an overwhelming urge to let everyone I’ve ever met hear how perfect it all is and how happy I am. Maybe because now I remember how close I came to ending this day very differently. When I saw Kieran in the congregation I
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley