In the final bars of the song, Frank’s eyelids flicker and a silver streak of saltwater runs down his face.
It’s enough.
Chapter Thirty-One
Phoebe
‘Phoebe Jones!’
I laugh as Tobi and Luc pull me into a huge group hug. ‘Bonjour, mes amours!’
‘Welcome home! Come in! We have wine!’
It’s so good to be back in Paris.
The last week has been a whirlwind completing the library at Villa Speranza and we were so busy I thought we might never finish. But the heart-stopping moment arrived where I stood arm in arm with Lis and Amanda, unable to hold back our tears as we took it all in. Hundreds of books edging the walls, their gentle colours and gold-edged spines the most beautiful faded kaleidoscope surrounding us as sunlight danced on the polished swirls of the mahogany floor.
Just like that, it was done. And then I was hugging Lis and Amanda goodbye and catching a train back to Paris.
I can’t believe I’ve lived in Europe for a year, and tomorrow is the day everything has been leading towards: 14th June 2018. I honestly don’t know how I feel, less than twenty-four hours away from seeing Sam again.
I want to see him. We need to talk – a lot. He has to let me in more. I can blame the distance, the patchy communication, the year we’ve had apart for it, but ultimately we have to be in this as a team from tomorrow on.
Tomorrow. The day we meet again.
But first, I will spend the last night of my grand tour in the place where it began. Beautiful Montmartre. With two people I will count as friends for life.
It’s impossible to be back here without comparing how I found it when I first arrived – shaken by meeting Sam, questioning everything, surprised that I even caught the train.
I still have questions, but Paris makes me feel the pull of possibility once more. Being here makes me remember how sure I was of Sam last year. The way I felt when I was with him – that I have lost sight of in recent months – returns. Because tomorrow I get to hold him again. In his arms I believe I will find the answers to the frustrating gaps our time apart has revealed.
Tobi and Luc show me the garden, which has been decked out for a summer party. They’ve made entertaining here a regular thing since I was last with them and it’s the talk of the neighbourhood, apparently. Tonight, I am guest of honour and Luc wants me to share stories of my travels.
* * *
It’s lovely to be back in the courtyard. Tobi and Luc leave me to sit here for a while before all of the festivities begin. I’ve brought my journal and Luc made me a large cup of fresh lemon tea.
My notebook is almost full. I’ve written for an entire year and now I can’t imagine my day without being able to record it. Flicking though the pages I see my adventure pass at high speed – France and Italy blurring through my fingers like the countryside past the window of the train that brought me back. And as the train home to London will do tomorrow. Now I’m back in my small green square of sanctuary the time away feels as fast moving as the pages in my book.
I pick up my pen and am about to write the penultimate entry when my mobile rings.
SAM – MOBILE
I take a breath. He’s been quiet since our broken video call.
‘Phoebe, I caught you.’ He sounds short of breath, like he’s been running.
‘Are you okay? Is everything—?’
‘I’m fine. I just ran up the hill to call. I didn’t know if you’d still be on the train.’
‘I’m in Paris. In the garden at Tobi and Luc’s place.’
‘Great. Phoebe, there’s something I need to say.’
I try to push the rising panic back but it won’t budge.
‘Are you still there?’
‘I’m here, Sam.’
The pause before he speaks again hurts. I close my eyes, wait for whatever is coming.
‘I want to say this, in case you’re doubting getting on the train tomorrow.’
Does Sam have doubts?
‘Just say it.’
‘I found Frank. My father. I wanted to tell you but it all happened so fast and I—’ I hear a rush of breath against the phone. ‘I was scared. I’m not used to having anyone who is able to share that with me, let alone who wants to. You offered your help and I just couldn’t deal with that…’
‘I’m sorry…’
‘No! No, don’t apologise, Phoebe. This is all on me. I found Frank because you told me to. You said if it were you, you’d want to know. You have no idea what that did for me. And I realised, way, way too late, that you’re incredible. And that – I love you.’
The birdsong ceases. Beyond the building’s walls the low note of traffic dims. I open my eyes and stare at the swirls of lemon steam rising from my cup. And I have no words.
‘Phoebe, I was scared when you said it. I should have said it back.’
‘Not if you didn’t feel the same.’
‘I feel it now. I’ve felt it for a long time but this stuff with Frank just messed with my head. I want you to know I love you. If you get on that train tomorrow, I’ll be waiting, Phoebe. I will. If you want me, I’m yours.’
And there it is: the one thing missing from our story.
* * *
I’m dazed when I return to Tobi and Luc’s apartment, the page I’d intended to fill with my thoughts today left blank.
He told me he loves me. It’s what I’ve longed to hear him say all year. It’s just the timing that worries me. Has he rushed to say it before we meet again? Have I pulled back from him, too?
This is pointless. I’m clearly overthinking, letting nerves get the better of me. Sitting on Tobi and Luc’s comfortable low couch I remember the trembling thrill of being there having just left Sam in London. I knew then that I loved him and I know it now. It’s okay to be nervous: tomorrow, everything changes.
It’s my final night in Paris and I’m determined to enjoy it. Mark the end of the most extraordinary year of my life, as Giana would say. Some good, some bad, but mostly wonderful. I’ve learned so much about my own resilience and creativity, my resourcefulness and my capacity to embrace new experiences. I haven’t just survived. I’ve left my mark on Europe with the library in Puglia and the pebbles I painted in Rome and every conversation I’ve had as I’ve travelled. I believe in myself more than I ever have. Gabe saw it in Montalcino; Meg commented on it last time we spoke. Even Dr Amanda said how much she’d seen me bloom during the time we spent at Villa Speranza. The Phoebe Jones returning to St Pancras station tomorrow is the best she’s ever been.
And she is in love with Sam Mullins.
* * *
That evening, we gather in the courtyard garden, the June air as warm and lovely as the conversation around the dinner table. I am able to thank everyone who wrote suggestions in the front of the notebook that’s become my companion. I tell each of them what I’ve seen and the places I’ve discovered, the stories I’ve learned along the way, even daring to read out a few extracts from my journal. The laughter and hearty applause that greet my words mean the world.
Now it’s time for one more step.