“Do you want something?” Noah asks, once the fire is roaring again. “What is it you Brits normally have in this kind of situation . . . a cup of tea?”
I shake my head. “I don’t want tea.” I kick off my heels, letting my stockinged toes sink into the deep pile of the carpet. The sofa dips next to me as Noah sits down, but I don’t look at him, and I’m still gazing at my feet when Noah starts to speak.
“Penny, I want to explain everything. So . . . I’m going to start from the beginning. After leaving you in Brighton, the tour just wasn’t the same. I felt like I was going through the motions—like I was having this incredible opportunity and seeing all these amazing things, but all I wanted to do was be back in the UK with you. But I knew that wasn’t fair. We’d agreed to be friends, and I had to give you that space. I owed that to you, even if I couldn’t stop thinking about you—even for a moment.
“My new management are great, by the way. I owe you for that. You’ll have to meet Fenella one day, my new manager. You’d love her. She noticed I was feeling down and suggested I write some music on the road. New material. But I couldn’t. It was . . . scary. No—more than that: it was terrifying. I could barely play a note; my mind was blank; I had all these feelings but no lyrics were coming. When Fenella realized that wasn’t working, she’d send me demos from other artists, to see if I could find my next single. But I didn’t want to listen to anything. Even my performances went downhill. Then it got really bad. One night, before a show, I started drinking. I ended up so wasted I couldn’t go on. They had to invent an excuse for me. That’s when I knew it had to stop, so I told Fenella I needed a break.”
I look up at Noah, searching his warm brown eyes. “I didn’t know it had got that bad. You could have told me. Even though we’re . . . we’re not . . .” I barely know how to describe what we are. I give up trying. “You could have called and I would’ve been there for you.”
He smiles. “I know that. Of course I know that—but it wasn’t right either. We took this time because we needed to figure out who we are without each other.”
I think back over my internship with François-Pierre Nouveau, travelling to London without anxiety. I think about my new friendship with Posey. I think about the photos I’ve taken, trying to find my style. I have grown a lot in the few months I’ve been apart from him. But that’s also because of the confidence he’s given me. I know I wouldn’t have been able to do it without him. It doesn’t feel like the right time to tell him that, though. Instead, I let him continue.
“So I quit the tour. I needed to go somewhere where I could find inspiration—and I didn’t want anyone to know where that was. Not even Sadie Lee. Not even you. Only Fenella knew, but she also had very strict instructions not to disturb me unless it was urgent.”
“Did it work?” I ask.
“It did. Not at first—I was in a really bad way. I just lazed around on the couch and binge-watched Netflix, worrying about how dropping out of the tour would affect me and whether I would ever be invited to join a band again. Then something clicked. Maybe I ate one too many grilled cheese sandwiches or watched just one too many episodes of Breaking Bad in a row, but I got fed up with myself. I told myself that I wasn’t allowed back in the real world without at least five songs that I loved. So I wrote and wrote and wrote. It was like a fever dream. I couldn’t stop. I remembered what it was like to be creative again, to focus again.
“A few days ago, I was done and I felt ready. I had about twenty songs I hated, ten I liked, and five I loved. I was ready to rejoin the world again. I got in touch with the G-ma first. That’s when I found out she was in Brighton with Bels. She told me about Scotland. I thought I would surprise you here.”
“So this had nothing to do with Callum?”
“Callum? Who’s Callum? The guy you were dancing with?”
Despite the fact that I have nothing to be ashamed of, I feel my face burn. “It doesn’t matter,” I mutter.
“Penny, it’s OK. I get it. I kind of assumed you’d find someone else. I can’t expect you to wait for me—that wouldn’t be fair. He’s a lucky guy . . .”
“No, it’s not like that . . .” I think about how to explain it, but it’s too complicated. I shake my head. “So, what are we? What do you want us to be?”
He reaches over and puts his hand on mine. “I want whatever you want. I just want to be part of your life again. And for you to be part of mine. If it’s as your boyfriend—great! If it’s just as your friend—I can live with that too. In fact, I’ve pretty much proven to myself that I can’t live without that.”
They’re the words I’ve wanted to hear for so long. But I know we can’t rush into a relationship again. All the same issues that drove us apart in the first place—our careers, his fame and, most of all, the distance—are the same as they were. Nothing has changed on that front. But his friend? That I can do.
Now that we’re here, away from the wedding and the drama and all the other people, I relax and my anger dissipates. What do I know of the pressure Noah’s under? I’m just glad he’s here now. He’s safe. He’s happy. And we’re OK. “Of course I want to be your friend,” I say. “I couldn’t live without that either.”
“Perfect.” He smiles, and it seems genuine—even if there’s a shadow of disappointment in his eyes. “And if you ever want anything more . . .”
“I’ll let you know.”
I can’t hold it in any longer. I lean forward and wrap him in a huge hug. He squeezes me back, and for an instant everything feels normal and right with the world again.
“You’re still my everything, Penny,” Noah whispers into my hair. “My forever girl.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Waking up under the canopy the morning after the wedding, I feel like I’m swimming in soft, golden light. The sky outside is tinted rose-grey, and dust motes shimmer in the thin beams of sunlight that filter through. The cottage is quiet; like it’s taken a deep breath after the madness of the previous night. It’s colder too. I pull the blankets up to my chin, working myself farther down into the warmth. I don’t want to get up just yet.
I roll over and my eyes fall on my golden mask from yesterday, discarded at the side of the bed.
Yesterday.
A day that passed in an instant yet seemed to last a lifetime.
I can’t believe I’m sleeping under the same roof as Noah again. He ended up crashing in the room with Bella. He’s back. I almost have to pinch myself, to make sure it’s not a dream.
I replay our conversation from last night in my head, and a warm glow spreads from my toes to my head. It’s good to have him back. But still something about what he said doesn’t add up. Did he really just happen to appear the moment I was dancing with another guy? He wouldn’t have known that there was no spark for me, that I would have ended things before they’d even had a chance to begin. He didn’t know that Callum wasn’t right for me. He said he didn’t mind—that he even expected it—but how can that be right?
How could he think I’d be ready to move on?
And if I did feel like that, why did he think he could show up and ruin it?
I realize I’m not as over his “missing period” as I thought I was. Yes, I’m glad he’s back. But I’m definitely not ready to rush into anything other than a rekindled friendship.
Plus, I can’t shake off the niggling feeling that there’s something he hasn’t told me. Something important. A missing piece that would make the whole matter of his absence hang together a bit better.
My phone buzzes and reluctantly I stretch an arm out from beneath the warmth of my duvet to nab it from the bedside table. I have quite a few texts to read—from Megan, from Callum, from Mum. But the most recent is from Elliot. That’s the one I open first.
Are you awake, my wee Scottish gal?
Yes!!
I sit up in bed just as there’s a soft knock on the door. “Come in!” I call.
Elliot’s head pokes round the door, then he sl
ips inside, quiet as a mouse. He puts two cups of tea down on the bedside table and gets in under the duvet next to me. “So . . . what happened? Tell me! Is Pennoah a thing once more?”
I toss my pillow at him, but he ducks the blow, grinning triumphantly.
“Pennoah is not a thing. Neither the name NOR the relationship.”
Elliot’s smile immediately changes to a frown. “Are you OK?”
I nod. “Yeah, I’m fine. It was me who made the decision.”
“You did? What did he say about the creative break?”
“Actually, it sounds like it had got really bad for him and he really needed the time off.”
Elliot grimaces. “Well, if it helped him, maybe it was worth some of the trouble,” he says.
“He said it was just coincidence that he was ready to talk again last night.”
“Oh, sure,” says Elliot sulkily, “he just happened to come in as you were dancing with Callum, having just introduced him to moi. Coincidence? I don’t think so.”
I shrug. “That’s what he says.”
“Hmm. Is it because of Callum that you don’t want to get back with him?”
I shake my head. “No. To be honest, I don’t think Callum is right for me—and I knew that well before Noah showed up. I’ll have to find some way to let him down gently.”
“So, no Callum, and no Noah?”
“Yeah, that’s about right. It’s going to be just Penny for the moment.”
“Well, just Penny is just great. Alexiot supports her all the way. Maybe you can be PenPo . . .”
“I do not need a nickname for a relationship with myself!”
“Why not? You could start a new trend for ‘single and loving it’! Just imagine all the celebrities doing it . . . LeaBro, TaySwi, HarSty . . .”
I hit him with the pillow again and again, as he continues to shout out celebrity names, until we’re both rolling around in a fit of giggles.
I grab his hand. “So, Scotland’s been good for you?”
He squeezes my hand back. “Yes. Alex and I have had so much fun—and there’s still more to see. I’m really looking forward to carrying on to the Isle of Skye and seeing what else Scotland has to offer. And I spoke with your mum. She’s OK with me staying with you guys until things settle down at home. I texted my mum and told her the plan. She’s not happy, but she’s not stopping me or demanding I come back home. She’s come to her senses more or less.”
“That’s good,” I say.
“I just need some space to breathe. It’s stifling in that house. Anyway, though: how are you going to tell Callum?”
I cringe. “I have no idea.”
“I get the feeling from the brief millisecond I’ve seen him that he’s not going to be the type who’s used to being rejected.”
“I know what you mean,” I say. “Oh well.”
Quite suddenly, Elliot sits up in bed, his nose sniffing the air like a bloodhound. “Is that bacon I smell? Come on, let’s go grab some breakfast.”
There’s lively chatter in the kitchen as we head downstairs, but it all stops the moment I walk in. Mum, Dad, Sadie Lee and Alex all turn to look at me. The only people who aren’t there are Noah and Bella.
“Morning,” I say, as brightly as I can.
“Everything OK, honey?” Mum says.
“Absolutely fine. Never better. Ooh, Dad—is that eggs?”
Thankfully, everyone starts talking again now that they’ve seen I’m normal and not some emotional wreck. Inside, it’s a slightly different story. My ears are primed for every sound of a Noah-like footstep on the stairs, my eyes peeled for messy brown hair coming round the corner. But it’s actually my nose that gets the first clue. Noah’s signature cologne drifts into the kitchen (even overpowering the bacon) and my heartbeat speeds up to a million miles a minute.
“Morning, everyone,” says Noah, as casual as ever.
“Noah!” Mum stands up from the table and gives him two flamboyant kisses on the cheek—she must have come in so late last night she hasn’t had a chance to say hello yet. “Lovely to see you again. I hope you’re feeling . . . refreshed?”
“Yes, thanks so much, Dahlia. And now I’m feeling pretty darn hungry too. What you got cooking for us there, Rob?”
Mum laughs. “Sit yourself down, Noah. Breakfast is almost ready. I’m afraid I won’t be joining you, though—I have to go and put the castle back into some sort of order and make sure nothing disastrous happened in the night!”
“Do you really have to rush off, Mum?” I ask.
She sighs dramatically. “Afraid so. But I’ll see you before you head off with Elliot and Alex.”
“Great!”
Noah turns to me. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Alexiot have planned a little Scottish road trip for their last day here, and they’ve asked me to go too instead of heading back today with Mum and Dad.”
“Oh, sounds cool,” Noah says.
Oh god, do I invite him? I suddenly think with a pang of alarm.
But it’s Dad who speaks next. “What are your plans, Noah?” he asks.
“I’m not sure. I have a few things to talk about with G-ma, so I’ll be here for a bit, then I’ll probably go back to get some studio time booked and work on some of my new songs. I was hoping to have some time to talk to Penny, but if she’s not going to be around . . .”
Noah’s going back to New York already? My heart sinks, even though I can’t figure out if I’m sad or a bit relieved. I don’t know what to say in reply, but then there’s a loud buzzing noise—saved by my phone. Again. I’m aware of Noah staring at me as I glance at it to read the message.
“Oh wow!” I say.
“What is it?” asks Elliot.
“It’s from Posey! I think . . . I think seeing Leah might have helped her!”
I turn the message round so that Elliot can see.
Penny!! Guess what? We had our first dress rehearsal yesterday and a bunch of the older students were invited so we had a proper audience. And . . . I DID IT! WITHOUT STAGE FRIGHT!!
“Nice work!” says Elliot.
I can’t keep the grin off my face. I text back.
That’s amazing! How did you do it?
It was strange . . . I used that technique Leah described to me—about the tree? It really worked. Before I went on, I pictured the tree inside me, anchoring me to the stage. Then when it was time for me to go on, I stopped being scared. Instead of worrying that I’d disappoint everyone, I knew I wasn’t alone up there: I was part of a company, so I was joining the others when I walked on. I think that’s part of what’s held me back—thinking the focus was all on me. But a show is about everyone. Listening to Leah made me realize that as a soloist she faces more pressure than me so has had to be much braver
Glad you’ve found a way to perform. But don’t think you aren’t as brave as Leah. She’s one in a million and so are you! Does this mean you’re going to keep the part?
Maybe!
Well “maybe” is definitely better than what you’ve said before
“I wish I could see her and give her a huge hug,” I say.
“Who’s Posey?” asks Noah.
“She’s . . .” But how do I even begin to explain to him everything that’s gone on over the past month? I realize that in the time Noah’s been gone, a lot has changed. I’m finding it too hard to speak to him . . . even to look at him. Suddenly the emotions everyone thought would afflict me before, the emotions I’d kept down inside me for so long, rise up to the surface—
“I . . . I just . . .”
But I can’t stay in the same room as him any longer. Pushing back my chair, I grab my coat blindly and run from the kitchen. I run outside, and keep running till I reach the edge of the lake, where I collapse down onto the stone wall of the bridge.
As tears sting my eyes, I tell myself sternly not to be so silly: they’re only from the harsh wind blowing across the water. You’ve had months to get over this, Penny Porter. r />
He wants you back, another voice in my head replies, however—this one not as sensible as the first. You should be with him. You’re meant to be.
But he left, says the first voice, firmly, and you’re OK on your own. You’re PenPo, remember?
I stare down at my reflection. My auburn hair blazes as it’s caught in the morning sun and blown by the lively wind. All round me, the trees in the forest make a frame of burnt oranges, bronzes, and reds.
It’s autumn and I’m his Autumn Girl . . . but whether that’s for “forever,” I’m still going to have to wait to see.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
When I return to the cottage, I avoid the kitchen and head straight upstairs in order to hide in my room. But before long Elliot sticks his head round the door and says, “Noah’s gone out with Sadie Lee and Bella, if you want to come downstairs.”
“Thanks, Wiki,” I say. I pick at a loose thread on the duvet, my head hanging low. I feel the mattress shift underneath me as Elliot sits down beside me.
“Listen—Alex and I won’t mind if you want to go back with your mum and dad, like you originally planned. I know it’s been a tough couple of days for you. You can, you know, handle The Return of the Flynn.”
“Really?” I say, looking up.
“Yeah, of course,” he replies gently.
It’s as if Elliot has read my mind. I just don’t want to be here right now. I don’t even want to be in Brighton.
I smile, but then it changes into a grimace. “I’m so embarrassed about Callum too,” I admit.
“Has he been in touch?”
“Yeah. He texted to see if I was OK. I guess I owe him an apology.”
“You don’t owe him anything. But it might make you feel better.”
“I think you’re right. I’ll see if I can get Dad to drive me over to his house before we go to the airport.”