Holding On (Memories #1.5)(8)
Author: Emma Hart

I see the face of the old woman I love so much in my mind, and I nod. “I’d love to, Mum.”

I pass into the hallway, blinking back some tears, and grab my jacket.

Mum opens the door. “Let’s go, then.”

~

A gentle autumn breeze teases my hair as I lean against the railings of the small bridge.

“So what happened last night?” Mum asks me, gazing at the water running under us.

“I discovered that two months is a long time,” I reply. “And people really do change more than you thought.”

“I thought you learnt that in Devon.”

“I did. Mum, will you be honest?” I look at her, and she turns her face to me. Her hair falls down and her beautiful eyes blink at me.

“Of course.”

“Last night, all Jayna cared about was herself. No questions asked about how I was feeling, none about the family or anything. She was only bothered about getting drunk and who she could take home. She even tried it with Alec before he told her it wasn’t gonna happen. She felt like a stranger. I guess I wanna know…Was I really that horrible before we left?” I look away from her, unable to handle what I’m scared she’ll say. Silence stretches between us, and I chew on my lip.

“No,” she says. “No, baby, you weren’t horrible at all. Were you immature, naïve about the world, and egocentric? Yes, you were, like most teenagers are today. You were never horrible. You always cared about others – even if you didn’t show it. You were led by peer pressure a lot. You were scared of being cast aside, I think. That’s why I made you come to Devon. I knew eight weeks in my home town would help you find who you are, not who you thought you should be. And I was right. The little girl that was hiding under the tough teen exterior came out, and she fell in love.” I look back at her, and she’s smiling, her eyes watery. “You were never horrible, Alexis. You were a little lost, but now you’re found. I’m proud of the person you’ve become.” Mum looks out at the water again, swallowing heavily. “And I know Mum was proud of you, too. She always was.”

A tear drips from my eye, and I move closer to her, linking my arm through hers. “I remember Grammy bringing us here when she used to come up before Granddad died. She’d send him and Bing off somewhere, and we’d trek through the trees looking for dry leaves and other bits. Then we’d make collage pictures.” I smile.

“And then Dad died, and she stopped making the trip. I don’t think she could face it alone, you know.”

“And then three years later we stopped going to see her,” I add sadly. “Why did we stop going?”

Mum shrugs a shoulder and sighs. “You kids were getting older. You didn’t want to spend the summer with your grandmother three hundred odd miles away from your friends. We felt it best to stay here. Until last summer… We always knew it could be her last, and as much as you hated it when we made the decision to go, we knew you’d never forgive us if we didn’t make you. Since you were seventeen, we still had control over your actions. You could have left on your birthday, but I was right in hoping two weeks would be enough to make you want to stay.”

“I could have left?”

“Of course. You’re an adult at eighteen. I couldn’t have stopped you if you’d wanted to go.”

“You never told me that.”

“Would it have made a difference if I did? Would you have gone?”

I rest my head on her shoulder and listen to the gentle rush of the water. “No,” I reply in a soft voice. “I wouldn’t have left. I would have stayed.”

Chapter Four

JEN

“Your best friend,” I seethe. “Is. An. Asshole!” I barge past Alec into his flat, and he looks at me and the empty space on the other side of the door in shock.

“I… Say what?” He frowns, and shuts the door.

“Carl is an ass!”

“And this is my problem because?”

I shriek, throwing my arms in the air. “Because you are his best friend! And male! And I do not understand your ignorant, arrogant, hormone-aggravating ways!”

“That still doesn’t explain why it’s my problem, Jen. Tea?”

“No. I do not want a cup of f**king tea, Alec. I want to go back to Devon and wring Carl’s neck!”

“I can feel the love.”

“I’m going to shove your sarcastic comments up your ass in a minute, boy,” I threaten, anger pulsing through my body.

“I’d love to see you try.”

I scream, throw myself face down on his sofa, and scream again, this time into a cushion. I kick my legs like a toddler would, growling. Everything… Everything is going wrong.

London has been my dream since I was a kid and first realised I could draw – and really draw. I’d spend endless time in the garden drawing flowers, sketching birds and butterflies to fill in later. Then, when I was older, I’d take a pad and pencil to the beach. I’d do the scenery, the shells, and sea life. Anything I could find, I’d draw it. It was a way to let out every emotion I had. It made me an easy teen for my parents, who’ve always understood and supported my dream. I wouldn’t be in London right now if it wasn’t for my Dad.

But Carl doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand why I need to be in London, why I can’t just go to Exeter or even Plymouth University. He doesn’t understand that his surfing is his hobby. Art is my life, a part of me. Every pencil, every brush, every pastel, they’re all an extension of my body.

I cry out a garbled curse of the male species. I let out one last growl, and roll over onto my side, hugging the pillow.

“Have you got all your toys back in your pram yet?” Alec asks me.

I turn my face towards him, tears burning my eyes.

“Hey,” he says in a softer voice. “Don’t cry. What happened?” He crouches down next to me, brushing some hair from my face gently.

“He’s said there’s no way he’ll come to London to see me. If I want to see him, I either have to come down to Devon or wait until half term.” I sniff, and pull my knees to my chest.

“He will be working full time, Jen. A weekend trip to London won’t be easy for him to do,” he reasons.

“I’ll be at uni five days a week, Alec.” My light blue eyes find his. “I won’t be able to go down either, and I’ll have next to no money after I’ve paid bills and stuff. I know Dad is covering most of my rent, but I still have things like council tax, water, electric, gas, food… Plus everything I need for my course, all my art supplies. They’re not cheap.” They’re more expensive than a hooker in the Red Light District.