Page 69 of The Second Chance Supper Club

Cath understood that he’d had enough hurt lately. He’d had to face far more grief and pain with his wife’s illness and death. She didn’t want to make some big song and dance about what had happened with her all those years ago … and if he was feeling miffed with her, then so be it. As she headed for the door, passing the family pictures, the images of togetherness, deep in her heart, she felt glad for Matty that he’d found love. That he’d had a good relationship over many years, until tragedy had struck them, of course. But right then, it was oh, so hard to put any of that into words.

As she approached the front door, she paused. She couldn’t just leave things this way. ‘I’m so sorry I hurt you back then, Ma … Will. It’s … well, things didn’t work out the way I’d hoped … and I got it wrong.’ It was the best she could do, after all this time. ‘Well, I’d better go.’

Will merely nodded; his face looked ashen. ‘I think that’s for the best.’

‘Take care,’ she said softly, as she stepped over the threshold. The summer light was far too bright in her eyes. A knot of emotion lodged tightly in her throat.

‘And you,’ he managed to reply. His words seemed to have an odd finality to them.

Sorrow and regret – laced with some beautiful youthful memories – weighed heavily within her, making her steps drag on her walk back to the cottage. The brightness of the August sky was in stark contrast to the dull dark ache that had formed inside of her. Her new life here in Tilldale, her cottage, her gorgeous new friends, and all its bright hopes suddenly seemed to be out of kilter.

Where on earth did this leave her friendship with Will, and those fledgling hopes that there might be something more between them? And dammit, where the hell did it leave the future of the Supper Club?

Chapter 40

She’d kept it all these years. She wasn’t quite sure why, but every time she’d thought to throw it away on some tidying mission, something inside had stopped her. It had almost got put aside in this latest move, but coming back up here to Northumberland, it still felt relevant, nostalgic. And to be honest, it had lifted her, at a time when she’d felt unloved and unappreciated.

After the revelation from Will, Cath had felt strangely hollowed out for the rest of the day. She lay low back at the cottage, trying to get her head around all that she had learnt – how could this Will be that Matty? And it had brought it all back, her shortcomings as a teenager. But that was how you learnt … those life experiences, the times you went wrong. Those nagging feelings of regret helped you make better decisions the next time, hopefully. With all this spinning around in her mind, she tried to busy herself with chores, tackling the ironing pile, cleaning the bathroom, grounding herself with some weeding in the garden. Finally, feeling totally shattered at around 9 p.m. she gave in, made herself a cup of mint tea, and decided to have an early night … but then, she felt restless again. There was something she needed to do. So, there she was, on her hands and knees, rummaging in the back of her wardrobe.

She was glad she hadn’t got rid of it in the move to the cottage. She still wasn’t quite sure what had drawn her to keep it. Maybe the words of young love had buoyed her up, when she’d re-discovered them, at a time when she was at her lowest, back there in Roundhay with her marriage in tatters and her packing boxes waiting to be filled.

Ah, there it was; a shoe box filled with bits and bobs and memories. She pulled it out and carefully removed the lid. Firstly, a picture of Adam as a baby … oh, and then his first tooth stored in a ring box, a finger painting from his nursery. She smiled. And below, several more mementoes. Then, in an old photo sleeve, a Kodak picture Susie had taken of her and Matty on the beach at Bamburgh way back when – his arm around her, big grin, dark floppy hair and those melting-toffee eyes … that she’d started to fall for all over again – along with an envelope, yellowed with age.

She settled down on the floor. The postmark on the envelope was dated 5 June 1988, a few days after they’d returned home from their late-May half-term holiday. Cath took a slow breath as she opened out the once white paper now tinged with age to a pale sepia:

Dear Cathy,

Hope you are fine, beautiful girl. I’m missing you already and you only left yesterday!

What an amazing week this has been. I can’t believe I met you and we had such a great time. I can’t stop thinking about you. Getting to know you … and more, wow. I think I’m head over heels already.

Been a bit of a boring day here – now you’ve gone. A rainy morning, so I did a bit of revision (yawn) and then had a ride out on my BMX bike. Mum cooked us all a roast beef dinner which was nice.

Back to college tomorrow. Just a few more weeks and I’m done. I think I told you I’m looking to go into the police or perhaps train up to be a fireman, so I’m finding out all I can about that at the moment, and working hard for my exams. Though I’m not super clever uni material like you!

Hope you had a good journey back.

Say hello to Susan and your mum and dad from me.

Can’t wait to hear from you! And see you – and hold you in my arms again – sometime soon, I hope.

I could always jump on a train down to Sheffield in the summer holidays. Just say the word!

Thinking of you. Love you loads!

Your, Matty xxx

Oh my. Cath felt a stab of guilt, of missed opportunities and what-might-have-beens. No wonder Will had been so put out. That teenage lad had opened up his heart to her, laying all his feelings on the line. His youthful words so loving and hopeful. Memories of that week, chatting away about their hopes and dreams, holding hands on the sands, their first kiss, and then sneaking off that last night for a precious stolen hour at his house, his parents out for the evening.

With a small sigh, Cath neatly folded the letter and placed it on her bedside table. The past and present incredibly, and somewhat perturbingly, crashing together. Wow, what a day it had been. She could still hardly believe it.

There had been further letters, two more, she remembered – full of Matty’s hopes and giddy dreams that she had no doubt shattered. That heart-stopping pregnancy scare, followed by the realities of needing to buckle down, being in the midst of her GCSEs that summer, before the big two-year push for her A Levels … Her commitment to her teaching ambitions and university plans, moving her forward. But she’d never forgotten that dashing young lad, her Matty.

She crawled into bed, resting against her pillows in the soft glow of the bedside lamp of her cottage bedroom, she remembered reading and re-reading these letters all those years ago in the Sheffield bedroom of her childhood, with her posters of Spandau Ballet and Wet Wet Wet on the walls. Her fingertips had trembled, her teenage heart full but oh-so scared at the same time, wondering what the hell should she do. Her period still hadn’t come, and she felt all kinds of wrong, and queasy. Deciding that she needed some advice, she’d resolved to speak with Susie. Her sister was older, she’d know what to do. Cathy needed to find out if she was pregnant. And then, she’d have to decide what next. There was no way she could write back to Matty until then.

All this back in June 1988 – whoa, thirty-six years ago, in fact. No wonder she and Will hadn’t recognised each other when she’d first arrived here in the village. Even as they got to know each other. It was so long ago, and they had both changed so much.

Was it fate that they’d met again now? Despite all his recent frostiness, did it mean something to them both still? But they couldn’t pretend they were sixteen and seventeen any more. And a hell of a lot of life had been lived since then. Where did they go from here?