in time // h.s.

xxxii. janet

Twenty-four years old...

I hardly saw Harry again after that night. Not before he went off travelling, anyway. He went back to Cheshire and I faked a few social events when he and Matty met up. The only time I couldn't get out of it was the mini going-away party that Anne threw for him in their house. It would have been rather unfriendly for me not to go to that. But, seeing as all of our families were crammed into his mum's modest-sized lounge, there was no chance of us being alone together, which was a comforting thought.

It had been a lovely afternoon and wonderful to see how close our families still were after so many years of friendship. Our mums were continuously off gossiping with each other as they brought in more mountains of food (you'd have thought the whole village was coming, it was only us lot!), while the two dads and Robin lounged on the sofa and grunted about the football. Matty and Harry had everyone in stitches as they talked through stories of our childhood (tears, tantrums and laughter), reminding the parents how much of a nuisance we all were. I sat quietly, pigging out on the sausage rolls and chicken nuggets, and listened, feeling lucky to be part of such a close-knit group, although sorry that things had become so complex that Harry had decided to leave. It didn't seem fair.

As we left I hugged Harry goodbye on his mum's driveway. It was the truest hug we'd had in years. Our guards were dropped. I felt an overwhelming pang of sadness knowing I'd not be seeing him for a long time. I squeezed him tightly and breathed him in, holding back the tears at having his arms wrapped around me, holding me securely.

I'm ashamed to say that I walked away from him feeling relieved at knowing he wasn't going to be around confusing my heart once more with his almost-confession.

I waited until he'd left, and was firmly on South American soil studying Spanish in Ecuador, before I decided to tell Charlotte of our encounter in the kitchen. We'd been in the Roebuck, one of Chiswick's great gastro pubs on the High Road, for about an hour and had already scoffed our way through a plate of steak and chips each. We were about to dive into the sticky toffee pudding and salted caramel ice cream, which we'd decided to share because we were so full (but cheekily asked for an extra scoop of ice cream to be added), when I told her that Harry had, quite possibly, insinuated that he'd finished with Alex because he still loved me. It was enough to make her take her eyes off our dessert, for a split second.

"Let me get this right," she said slowly as she pieced together the facts, waving her spoon in the air as she did so. "The first time he told you he loved you he slept with someone else, the girl he got engaged to."

"Yep."

"And the second time he told you he packed his bags and went travelling? Seriously?" She shook her head at the madness of it, before taking another mouthful of dessert.

"Well, he didn't actually say it this time."

"No chance you could've misread it?"

"None."

"What is he playing at?" she asked, screwing up her eyes suspiciously.

"Nothing, he's gone."

"Yes, and has left you behind, sat at home thinking of him. Crafty bugger."

"I don't think that was his plan. I don't think he had a plan. You know Harry's not like that. I think he was just confused, he's been through such a tough time, it hasn't been easy."

I stopped, knowing I was rambling in his defence.

"His plan certainly hasn't worked then," she smiled, putting the last piece of pudding smugly into her mouth.

She was wrong, I told myself. I knew Harry, and I knew it wasn't some manipulative plan to stir up trouble. He'd innocently alluded to things. That was all. I'd brought up the conversation, I'd asked the questions, he had just answered them. As a result he'd momentarily opened the door to those old feelings and given us a glimpse of what was... but he'd left it there and slammed the door firmly shut again by going away. If he had wanted anything from me after that revelation, he would have made it clear then, rather than moving thousands of miles away from me. He'd closed the conversation before there was any real declaration of love, making it obvious he wanted nothing from me in return. There was no point in me running my mind ragged over what was clearly a slip following his break-up. There was no need for clarification.

Once again, I had to focus on my love story, the one I'd chosen, and ignore the feeling of elation Harry had caused to rise in my chest.