Because she did love Finn. She knew she did. This was exactly what love was supposed to feel like. It was what she had been holding out for her whole life.
Any fears that she may have had about Finn living too far away for their relationship to stand a chance had been allayed. He liked her enough to move countries. He was so confident that what they shared was the real thing, that he was willing to uproot his entire life to be with her, to make a go of it, to not give up but give it everything he could.
The more Pepper thought about it, the more astounded she felt. But she also felt bigger and bolder somehow, as if his unwavering belief in her, and in them, had been exactly the boost she needed to toss aside her lingering self-doubt. Not only did she stand taller and walk prouder, she also painted feverishly. With the Hamburg landmarks complete, she began on Lisbon, recreating a dripping wet orange tree with figures side by side under its branches, a molten sunset set off by darkened rooftops, trailing petals, tiny azulejos, jaunty trams and winding cobbled streets draped in tiny lights.
Every image she created reminded her of a moment – a lingering look or a tentative touch, a kiss stolen beneath the stars or a breath caught up in a web of emotion – and as she conjured up each one, barely pausing to lower one brush before picking up the next, Pepper finally understood the lesson she had failed to learn all those years ago: that art, real art, made you feel.
With only a matter of days left until she and Josephine would fly to Barcelona, Pepper packed her teaching schedule full, even venturing into London one afternoon to host a team-building session at a corporate office in Canary Wharf. Rediscovering her own passion for art helped to energise her, and she knew she was doing her job better as a result. More people than ever were asking for details of her classes, calling to see if she could squeeze them into candle-making, collaging or life drawing. Her little studio had never seemed so busy, and Pepper felt proud – prouder than she had ever allowed herself in the past.
Each evening, she and Finn would FaceTime each other from under the covers of their respective beds, sharing stories of their day and making plans for what they would do once he came to live in Aldeburgh. Pepper had already made space for his clothes, cleared a shelf in her bathroom cabinet and created an area in her front room where he would be able to set up his laptop. The house was ready, she was ready – now all she needed was him.
It was now the evening before her flight to Barcelona, and Pepper was on her way to meet her father and his wife-to-be at a local pub for dinner. When her dad had called earlier that day to invite her, Pepper had been surprised. Although she spoke to her dad fairly regularly, she didn’t go to Kent to see him very often and had never met the woman who would soon be her stepmother. He had promised that it would be ‘low-key’, then threw her slightly by adding that he was keen for the two of them to ‘bond’ before the wedding.
Now that Finn was moving to Suffolk almost as soon as she and Josephine returned from their trip, Pepper felt more able to face the upcoming nuptials – not least because she would now have a proper boyfriend to take along as her plus-one. There was also a small part of her that still longed to spend time with her dad, whom she had been so close to as a child. That man, the one who’d let her ride up on his shoulders, who’d take her and Bethan rock-pooling, played football with them and read them bedtime stories at night, felt at times like an apparition – one that Pepper had dreamt up in her head.
Arriving at the bistro pub a few minutes early, Pepper was shocked to find her mother already seated at the table.
‘Mum, you’re here.’
‘So I am.’ Her mother was giving nothing away. Like Pepper, she had made an effort with her appearance, and was wearing a pale gold shift dress, her hair neatly blow-dried.
‘You look nice,’ she said, hanging her denim jacket on the back of a chair before sitting down.
Her mother blinked absently as if she hadn’t heard.
‘Is that a dress?’ she asked.
‘A jumpsuit.’ Pepper tried a smile. ‘Flattering on the bum, but a real pain when it comes to having a wee with any sort of ease.’
‘I see.’
In an effort to keep the conversation flowing, Pepper asked what she had been up to since she last saw her a few days ago, being careful to make sympathetic noises when her mother bemoaned the builders that had been putting in a new kitchen next-door, and exclaiming in delight when she admitted that she’d won ten pounds at the Bingo.
‘I didn’t know you even went!’
‘And you?’ her mother eventually enquired. ‘Anything I should know?’
She had always phrased it that way, as opposed to asking Pepper if there was anything she actually wanted to tell her. Just as it had when she was a teenager, the question rankled.
‘Oh, you know me – all work, work, work.’
She had tried to tell her mum about Finn twice now, but each time she seemed to get nowhere. She couldn’t tell if her mother simply didn’t care, or if her words had not penetrated. There would be no choice soon, though – she would have to acknowledge his existence once he was living down the road.
Her mother looked tired as she reached for her sparkling water.
‘Is it tomorrow you go away on holiday? Benidorm, was it?’
‘Barcelona,’ Pepper corrected. ‘Should be fun – lots of art to see.’
‘Right.’ Her mother unrolled her napkin and lay it across her lap.
‘Did Dad tell you this dinner was a chance for you and Keira to bond, too?’ Pepper asked, grasping onto the one thing she hoped would, in fact, unite the two of them. But her mother had stopped listening. Her attention had been diverted by a waitress dropping a tray of empty glasses, and after a moment, she lowered her head and rested it on her hands.
‘And you’re still happy to go to the wedding?’ Pepper went on.
Her mother nodded faintly.
‘I, er. I have someone I want to bring – a guest.’
‘Oh?’ Her mother looked up at that, her gaze suddenly so focused that Pepper was taken aback. For a moment or two, she said nothing, merely fiddled with her fork.
‘Well?’ her mother went on, and Pepper couldn’t tell whether she was angry or simply interested. ‘Are you going to tell me who?’
Pepper went to reply but was interrupted by the arrival of her dad. Martin Taylor was slim and pale with the dishevelled grey hair and crinkled blue suit of someone who had been blown in sideways by a gale. In contrast, his fiancée, Keira, looked immaculate in a dove-grey clinging dress, ivy-coloured pashmina and a pair of scarily high black patent stilettos. Having never met her before, Pepper was gratified when Keira offered her a shy smile of greeting. The two of them must be about the same age, she thought numbly, accepting a brittle hug from her father.
‘Sorry we’re late,’ Keira said, as Martin sat down beside his former wife. ‘The sat nav went absolutely doolally and kept shouting at us that we were going the wrong way. It was all, “perform a U-turn” here and “you are going the wrong way down the street” there. I’m amazed we made it at all, to be honest with you.’
‘That’s OK.’ Pepper passed her a menu. ‘It’s nice to finally meet you.’
‘Ditto.’ Keira glanced across at Martin. ‘I thought it would be nice to get together before the big day. I mean, it won’t be long now before we’re all family.’