Helen
The best night’s sleep I’d ever had. Out like a light, without a care in the world. Safe and warm and loved in a way that made me whole.
And then I was turfed out in the nicest possible way on Lizzie’s doorstep at eight in the morning.
She raised her eyebrows, but she smiled, and linked her arm in mine like old times as we walked the long route to school. Somehow I knew we’d made it, both of us.
That something inside her had lightened, and there was only Lizzie. I stopped in the alleyway out of habit, but she shrugged and pulled me on.
“No cigarette?”
She shook her head. “Nah, think I’ll quit. I won’t be able to afford cigarettes at uni, anyway.”
I broached the subject I’d been hinting at for days. “Will you be ok? If I don’t come, too, I mean?”
She shrugged, but she smiled. “I guess I’ll survive, Hels Bells. Besties forever, right? Even if we’re not in the same place.”
I smiled in memory of my hand on Mark’s skin, and placed my hand on her heart over her blazer. “This is us,” I said. “No matter where we are. We’re always here.”
She welled up, and sniffed, and slapped my arm. “Made me cry, idiot.” She laughed. “You’re such a bloody sap these days, Helen Palmer.”
Mum dropped my suitcase off after dinner, and she even stayed for a coffee and a look around. She looked at all my pictures, and I showed her the sculpture on the mantel and she said it was wonderful. She wouldn’t say anything about Dad, though.
“Early days,” she said, and that was all.
She said that every day for a week, but on the second week I heard voices outside after her car engine stopped rumbling. Mark stood from the table and took my hand, and I knew he’d heard it, too.
“This is bloody stupid, Angela. Stupid.” “Be nice, George, I bloody mean it!”
“I don’t know if I want to be bloody nice, Angela.”
And then a little voice, a voice that made me smile. “Is this where Helen lives now, Mum?” “For the minute, love, yes. Just until your dad stops being such an ogre.”
“Piss off, Angela. This isn’t a laughing bloody matter.”
I smiled as I heard the snark in Mum’s voice, just the other side of the door. “George Palmer, you’d better be on your best behaviour, or so help me God, I’m going to move in here as well.”
Mark took a breath as the knock sounded and I squeezed his hand. “Go upstairs if you want, just until I know he’s not going to be a jerk,” I said, but he shook his head.
And then he opened the door. And we faced it together.
Just like it should be.
***
Helen
I wanted to stay for Mark, and he wanted to leave for me.
Since neither of us would compromise he put in his notice the very next week, on exactly the same day I cancelled my university place.
We both huffed and argued the toss, and said our way was better. And then we stopped huffing and dreamed instead.
We dreamed such beautiful dreams, and it seemed Mark hadn’t forgotten how after all.
The doorbell tinkled, one of those awesome old-fashioned bell ones that sits above the doorframe. I smiled every time it sounded.
“Hey, kids…” Lizzie’s voice was a happy cackle. “I come bearing sugar-loaded gifts!”
I put my brush down, and she held open the box as I approached. “Donuts.” I grinned. “Mark! Lizzie’s brought us donuts again!”
I heard his feet on the stairs, and the thump, thump, thump made my stomach flutter. He smiled so brightly, just like he always smiled at Lizzie.
“Elizabeth Thomas, you’re on a one-woman mission to fatten me up, I swear.”
But he wasn’t fattening up. He was glowing here. The sea air really suited him, and even the hustle and bustle of Aberystwyth’s main seaside drag suited him. The air made his hair more curly though, and made it grow, too. It was longer these days, past his collar, and greyer, but only a little.
Lizzie clicked her fingers in front of my face. “Hey, love’s young dream, I’m right here.” I poked my tongue out. “How was uni?”
She bit down on her donut and smiled. “It was cool. You’re totally missing out, like big time. My room buddy is awesome, for real.” She tipped her head. “Nearly as awesome as you, Hels Bells, but only nearly.”
Mark took his donut and shot me a look and it made me poke my tongue out in his direction, too. “Helen will find out herself next year, Elizabeth, since she’s only taking a gap year.”
I groaned. “What’s the point in studying art for three years? To qualify me to paint pictures and open a gallery?” I shrugged and looked around me. “Seems I skipped the uni part, Mr Roberts. You can stop harping on about it now.” I took a donut from the box. “Anyway, you teach me. I don’t want another teacher. I don’t need one.”
“I’m no university professor and this conversation isn’t over,” he said.
He kept on saying it, but these days I’m not even sure he meant it himself anymore. I liked to think I was wearing him down, slowly, just a bit at a time.
“When are your parents over?” Lizzie quizzed. “Isn’t it soon?”
“This weekend.” I pulled a face. “I’m so nervous. I thought we’d have it more… ready. I thought I’d feel more prepared.” “Don’t be nervous, this place is the bee’s knees, Hels. It’s awesome.”
And it was awesome. Our little gallery by the sea.
Mark painted boats, and clouds over the water. He painted people caught in the moment, buckets and spades in hand. He painted life and soul in this town, and he captured it all.
And I painted him.
I painted him in everything. In abstracts, and landscapes, and weird little watercolours that made no sense. I was always painting Mr Roberts.
And deep down, under the clouds and the sea and the sky, I knew Mr Roberts was always painting me.