Page 93 of You Were Always the One

‘You’re welcome.’ She pats me on the back. ‘If you want to come back, you’re always welcome. But I hope you know that.’ She goes around to the driver’s door. ‘Safe journey,’ she calls out.

I make my way into the terminal and through security to my boarding gate, stopping en route to buy a coffee. It’s an effortless walk, the departure lounge uncrowded as, sitting down, I wait for my flight.

It’s as though fate is paving the way for me. As though it’s what I’m meant to be doing, I tell myself as my phone buzzes with a call. It’s my editor, Christie.

‘Hi.’ I’m taken aback. Usually our calls are arranged in advance.

‘Riggs.’ She sounds excited. Then she goes on, and I listen, slightly disbelievingly, as she utters words that quite literally change my life.

After the call ends, I sit there not moving, completely stupefied, unaware as the other passengers get up and board the flight, until one of the ground staff comes over to me.

‘Sir? We’re about to close your flight.’

I leap to my feet, grabbing my bag. ‘Of course. Er, sorry.’

I’ve done enough travelling over the years to take it in my stride, but today, my mind is all over the place. I sit in my allocated aisle seat, next to a girl, the music she’s listening to somehow escaping her massive headphones, so that I, too, get to share odd snatches of it – enough to know it isn’t to my taste.

As the aircraft taxies out, I thank my lucky stars that this isn’t a long flight; then, closing my eyes, I try to zone out. But as the aircraft accelerates along the runway, images flash through my mind, of Fraser, then Emma. I think of Christie’s call. Then of Holly. Even my mother. Then Christie’s call again, as suddenly my eyes ping open, the realisation hitting me full on that, fuck, I really shouldn’t be doing this.

I try to calm myself. Absolutely classic, Riggs, this happening right now. The aircraft is already airborne and speeding through the clouds. There’s nothing you can do until you get to France, except have a bloody drink and get your shit together.

The gin and tonic I order does little to relax me. But it’s as though a lifetime of growing up has hit me full on, here, in this plane. I’m fairly sure the girl in the seat next to me feels it too. Giving me an odd look, she shifts away from me.

Maybe it’s because of Fraser, but it’s like after a long time sleeping, I’ve finally woken up. It’s all very well, living my life the way I have. But now, there are other people to think about. My mind explores the possibilities at warp speed – stay in France; leave France. Stay with my mother. Move near to Emma. Make a plan for the first time ever, to get my own place. Work hard – and I mean really, really hard.

I replay the conversation I had with Christie – about the huge offer from Hollywood for an option on my book. Plus the offer from Christie’s publishing house for another two-book deal, with a decent advance. It feels like, for the first time ever, my career is on the up. And I have to give it everything I have, while for the first time in a few years, I’ll have reasonable money coming in.

No more half-measures, Riggs. Not now. All signs point one way, to commitment, be it to work or to someone. In other words, it’s time to sort my life out.

It’s dark when my flight lands in Toulouse, the drive back to my house dark and rain-sodden. But I get back to find the lights on, the wood-burner lit and Sophie waiting for me with open arms.

I hug her. Of course, I’m pleased to see her. But things have changed while I was away – more specifically, on the flight; I’m not the same person who left here, all those weeks ago.

I tell Sophie about Fraser, then about Christie’s call, then about what happened on the plane. ‘It was like a light going on,’ I say. ‘Everything suddenly looked different. I’ve been living in a bit of a bubble.’ I pause. ‘I don’t think I can do that any more.’

‘You were a single man. And now you are a father. It is not surprising.’ Sophie pours us both a glass of wine. ‘And this is incredible news about your book. Being made into a film! It is so exciting!’

‘It isn’t definite,’ I say. ‘And it’s only a part of what’s going on. But I feel like it’s time to take control of my life.’ I wait for her to laugh at me, but she doesn’t. ‘Or at least, try to,’ I add. ‘It’s never mattered before. But suddenly it does,’ I say. ‘But now, I have a son. I want to be in his life and I want to be worth something to him.’ I pause, gazing into her eyes. ‘I made a decision on the way back.’

‘You are going back to England.’ She smiles a little sadly. ‘It is OK, Riggs. Of course you should be with your son. It is the right place for you to be.’ She raises her glass, then chinks it against mine. ‘But I will miss you.’

The following day, I start packing up my things. Standing in the little house that’s been my home for a few months, I know I’ll miss it. But though I’ve never been good at reading the signs, I know there are times you have to move on. And this isn’t a knee-jerk reaction. It’s considered and thought-through.

I will always think fondly of Sophie, and our last au revoir lingers with me. Maybe we’ll stay in touch, maybe we won’t. But I think we both know we were only ever destined to be an interlude in each other’s lives.

Going out to my car, I load the last of my stuff, including a crate of wine – I mean, it would be crazy not to. Then after one last look at the beautiful mountain view, I leave it behind and start the long drive home.

It’s New Year’s Eve when I arrive back at my mother’s. I knock on the door, shivering in the cold as I listen to her slide the bolt back.

‘Surprise!’ I say.

‘Rigby, darling!’ She proffers her cheek for a kiss. ‘I can’t believe you’re back so soon!’ She frowns. ‘Is everything OK?’

‘Everything’s fine.’ Apart from my brain running at full speed. ‘Um, actually I was hoping I could stay. For a while – until I find somewhere to live.’

‘So you really are back.’ She pauses. ‘Of course you can stay.’

‘Thanks.’ I rub my freezing hands together. ‘Can I come in? It’s cold out here.’