Page 5 of You Were Always the One

Pulling on my trainers, I go outside. It’s a fresh April morning, patches of blue appearing where the cloud has thinned. Breaking into a jog, I head up the road, then onto the footpath that winds uphill to the top of the Downs. It’ll be muddy up there, but today, it’s the least of my worries. I need space around me. The wind in my hair. Far-reaching views.

These days, my fitness routine is somewhat sporadic. The footpath is steep, but I push myself until my legs threaten to give way, walking the last few minutes where the path narrows through the trees. Then it flattens out; the trees thin and the vista of the Downs opens up in front of me.

I turn onto the South Downs way, picking my way around the mud and almost losing my footing. Then as the path dries out, I run hard, until reaching a five-barred gate, when I slow and stop. Leaning against it, catching my breath, I listen to the birds around me, loving how at this moment, no one knows exactly where I am.

Then she’s back again. Holly. Her bright eyes laughing at me. Fuck, Riggs. You’re in trouble, I tell myself. You’re living in a marriage that’s slowly falling apart. And Holly has a family. You can’t seriously be hung up on something that was over years ago.

What Holly and I had was in the past, I tell myself firmly. I don’t even know where she lives. I’ll probably never see her again. Our lives have moved on.

But my mind won’t let it go. What if we’re being given another chance? If Holly and I are meant to be? But then what about Emma? As my head explodes with questions, I start to run again. Almost certainly, the way Emma and I are going, divorce is on the cards. But as for Holly, as far as I know, she’s happily married. The last thing I’d want to do is get in the way of that.

When I get home, I peel off my muddy trainers and dump them in the washing machine. Do the same with my clothes before, naked, I make my way upstairs. I’d hoped that running would bring me clarity. But by the time I’m showered and dressed in clean clothes, I’m no clearer.

Sitting at my laptop, I read through the last pages of my book. Then work gets pushed to one side, the temptation irresistible as I pick up my phone and start scrolling through the internet for Holly. Out of curiosity, I tell myself. Nothing more than that. When my search turns up nothing, I realise she probably uses her married name. But without knowing what it is, it’s impossible to find her on social media – unless… Rita. If Rita’s anything like I remember her, married or not, she won’t have changed her name. Sure enough, I find her on Facebook. Same old Rita, with that same old sassy, self-assured look.

I click on her friend list, but it’s private. So I start to scroll down her posts. Before long, I find one with Holly in it. Holly Madigan, as she now is. My heart starts to race with excitement. I know; ludicrous in a man of my age. And then it stops altogether – or at least, that’s what it feels like, because there she is. Holly Madigan, on my screen, smiling back at me.

Relief washes over me as I bring up her Facebook page. I want to message her. But the thing is, what do I say?

Hi Holly, I can’t stop thinking about you. I think I made the biggest mistake of my life letting you walk away. And I was wondering if by the smallest chance you might feel just a little the same?

Not cool, Riggs. Guaranteed, she’ll run for those hills you’ve just run down.

Hi. It was nice to see you again.

I pause. Reasonable start. But now what?

Sorry we didn’t have more time to catch up properly! You looked great by the way. Anyway, you don’t have to reply. I just wanted to say hello again. Riggs

An x or no x? For fuck’s sake, Riggs. Stop overthinking it. You’re an old friend getting in touch. Just send the damn thing. The decision is made for me as my phone slips out of my hand. When I pick it up, the message has been sent.

3

HOLLY

My first call of the day is to a lovely lady called Dora. Her house is a half hour drive away, up a quiet, tree-lined street. It’s a home filled with memories; where she raised her children, where she’s gathered her family over the years, living there with her husband until he died, two years ago. That’s when I first met her, on my calls to care for Walter in the twilight of his life.

‘I won’t be far behind him,’ I remember her saying after he died. It turns out she wasn’t wrong: six months later, she was diagnosed with the same cancer that had taken him, a fate she accepted with grace and calm.

‘There’s no point in making a fuss,’ she said, matter of fact. ‘We all have to go sometime.’ Then her voice had softened. ‘And it isn’t the same without him.’

Today, when I get there, a swathe of blue irises are in flower in front of her house – Dora has always loved her garden. The front door is cracked open and, going in, I stand there for a moment, aware as I always am when I come here of the sense that time is passing. I knock on the door of what used to be the sitting room, which, now that the stairs are too much for her, has recently become her bedroom.

‘Come in.’ Her voice is faint.

Normally when I get here, Dora’s up and dressed, sitting in a chair by the window. But this morning, when I go in, she’s still in bed, Fritz, her beloved cat, curled up next to her frail body. ‘Morning.’ Her face is pale but her eyes are bright. ‘How are you today?’

‘Not too bad, considering.’ In spite of her smile, Dora seems preoccupied. ‘I’m a little tired, Holly. I didn’t sleep too well last night.’

I pick up her medical notes, reading about the sleeping pills she’s been prescribed, that she’s refused.

‘Before you say anything, I don’t want more pills,’ she says stubbornly, her mind as sharp as it ever was.

‘I completely get that.’ I pull up a chair close to the bed. ‘Are you in any pain?’

‘Only now and then,’ she says. ‘Mostly, I’m fine.’

The thing is, I’m not sure she is. ‘Dora? Have you thought any more about coming into the hospice? We can keep a closer eye on you and make sure your medication is right.’