The Start of Us

I smile at him. ‘Nah. He wasn’t all bad. Terrible taste in magnets, though.’

‘Well, then you’re best moving far away from him.’

‘You think?’

‘Yep.’

‘I can see Nina another time. What were you thinking of doing on Friday?’

‘There’s fireworks on the promenade. But honestly, I just thought that if you had nothing on, we could go. I don’t expect you to change your plans.’

‘I know you don’t. But I want to. Nina won’t be bothered. She said she could see me on Saturday morning so I’ll just do that instead.’ I glance across at him. ‘It really makes no difference,’ I say, more to myself than him, but I don’t believe it for a second because already I can feel the chasm between myself and the other Erica, another thousand Ericas, shift minutely with my change of plan.

Daniel taps his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘Excellent. If you’re sure. I’d like to do something that doesn’t involve me trying to hide the fact that I have a horrible phobia.’

‘Not scared of loud bangs, are you?’ I joke.

He laughs. ‘Nope. All my secrets are out now. Nothing else you need to know.’

We are quiet for a moment, and Daniel takes my hand. ‘I did honestly mean what I said at the party,’ he says. ‘You really have to do what you want to. Don’t stop for anyone.’

I smile. I want to do the exact opposite of what he is telling me to do: to invite him in, to be with him for longer, to never see Nina again, to stop everything except him. But I can’t do that because that would obviously be some kind of cliched rebound if I changed everything for someone so soon after what’s just happened with Mike. I look at Daniel’s face, his even features and his black hair that’s slightly curly from the rain and his high cheekbones, his pale, smooth skin.

‘I’ll see you on Friday then,’ I say to him as I peel myself from the car and wonder if ‘rebound’ is even a real thing.

***

‘So what got you interested in going travelling?’ asks Daniel on Friday night. We’re wandering along the promenade before the fireworks start. The air is chilled and I pull my black wool jacket tighter around myself even though I spent over half an hour choosing what to wear. In the end, I went for a black dress and black tights with my chunky boots.

‘Well, it was Mike who started it. We looked at places like Thailand together a lot. He wanted to go more than me. I’ve always been a bit scared of going away.’

‘So you’ve never travelled before?’ asks Daniel.

‘No. Have you?’

‘I’ve been to Europe a few times with friends. Nothing major. It was a while ago now though. My fear of heights kind of affects how I feel about flying so I haven’t been to many different places.’

‘Well, you’ve been more adventurous than me,’ I admit. ‘I even did my degree locally. I’ve barely been out of Blackpool since I moved here.’

‘You like it here though, don’t you? The history of the town?’

I nod, and stare out at the black waves that glitter with the lights from the pier. ‘Yeah. I do, and that’s why the museum is my perfect job. I was so excited when it came up, but I got the feeling Mike didn’t even want me to apply for it. I think he knew it’d make me put off travelling yet again.’

‘I thought you said the job is only a three-month contract?’

‘It is.’

‘Oh. So Mike’s pretty spoilt.’ Daniel glances at me from the corner of his eye, wondering if he’s gone too far.

I laugh. ‘He was a bit. I suppose it’s not his fault, though. He really wanted to get away, and I’m starting to see that it was fair in a way. We wanted different things. Like you said, if you really want to do something, you shouldn’t stop for anyone.’

‘I suppose it depends who it is.’

I turn to look at Daniel just as he looks over at me. As our eyes meet, I see a glint in his that makes me feel as though a tiny firework has just erupted in my chest.

‘Well, I’m glad now that Mike didn’t wait for me,’ I tell Daniel, and my words are fast, falling over one another. Take a breath, Erica, I think, smiling to myself. ‘That night when we first met, there’s no way I would have believed I would think like this so soon. But I’m in a different place to where I was. I’m seeing things so differently to how I have done for years.’

‘I know what you mean. I think I felt the same when it ended with Sarah.’

‘Sarah of the magazine aisle?’

Daniel laughs. ‘Yep. Her. I think when I was with her, I couldn’t see anything properly. Then I had to change places I suppose, and it was horrible and difficult because moving and change always is. But now my view is better, somehow.’

‘Yes!’ I say. ‘You make it sound so simple.’

We walk for a little longer before Daniel speaks again. ‘So anyway, you were saying about the travelling. Even though it was Mike’s idea to start with, has it turned out to be something you want to do after all?’

I sigh. ‘I don’t even really know,’ I admit. ‘I think I’ve just been feeling a bit lost since Mike ended things. Even now I can see it was probably for the best, I do still feel like I should have a new focus once the museum job is over. I’ve spent so long wanting to just stay here. I’m not that adventurous really, and I always had a bit of a problem with being on my own. But now …’

Even in a crowd of people, with the beat of music thumping from speakers above us, Daniel hears me more than Mike ever did. I watch him as he thinks about my words, turns them over in his mind. ‘What about now? Do you like being on your own more?’

The first firework explodes and I watch the sky burst into a hundred different shades of green and pink. I think of the danger that has flooded back to me since I started disappearing again last week at the party, the dread of being alone and falling into another time, the raw fear of clawing at the present to try and stay and having nothing to hold on. When Zoe gave me Nina’s number, and I decided that I should go travelling, I was still hoping that the disappearance and seeing the other Erica was a dream. But now, it’s clear that it wasn’t. Terror grips me and I swallow it down and stride forward. ‘Not really. But I’ve decided that I should do it anyway. I want to show myself that I can be adventurous and do all the big, amazing things that other people do. But I don’t know about my reasons, really. I don’t know if it’s just a bit of a knee-jerk reaction to Mike telling me I’m boring.’

Daniel shakes his head and grimaces. ‘You know, I sometimes wish we could re-live that party. I could have beaten him up when you first arrived instead of giving him a drink.’

I burst out laughing. ‘That would have been quite a welcome. I kind of preferred the Champagne. I had a toast to make, remember? The start of my new life.’ My words are lost in the score of a bright blue rocket above us, and I lean into Daniel as I watch. We huddle together for a few minutes and watch the fireworks, until there is a pause in the ripples of colour and sound.

‘What about you?’ I ask him. ‘Were you like this when you broke up with Sarah? Did you suddenly want to make plans?’

He thinks for a minute. ‘Not really. My plans stayed the same. Well, other than that I thought I’d end up marrying her. We were never engaged,’ he adds hurriedly. ‘But you just assume when you’re with someone for a while, don’t you?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. I never thought I’d marry Mike. We always said we’d avoid it,’ I tell him as the show restarts and another firework blooms above us.

‘Oh, a non-believer,’ Daniel says, smirking.

I jab him gently in the side, feel the warmth of his body from beneath his jacket. ‘It’s not that I don’t believe in it. I just don’t really like big weddings. And I know this is a bit negative, but I just don’t think marriage tends to end well.’

‘Nothing ends well!’ he exclaims as we start to walk again, picking our way through all the people who are still watching the sky, waiting for more. ‘All endings are horrible. If you only ever thought of the end of something, you’d never start anything, would you?’

I consider this as we weave through the children waving cheap plastic wands, the friends huddled together gazing up at the splitting sky, the hamburger sellers with their sizzling carts. We’re the only ones in the crowd who are walking. He’s moving faster than I am again, and I reach out and pull him back until he slows down.

‘So do you want to get married?’

‘Tonight?’ He looks at his watch. ‘Bit late. We probably wouldn’t be able to get it all organised in time. Nice idea though. I’m flattered.’

I roll my eyes and try to smother my laugh.

‘What are you laughing at? You’d marry me.’

‘Would I?’

‘Course you would. If you weren’t going off to see the world with Nina, then you’d fall head over heels for me, and I’d have to remind you, one day, that you weren’t even going to get married. But you wouldn’t even be listening because you’d be too busy trying on veils and big white dresses and tiaras—’

‘I would not wear a tiara,’ I say. ‘I don’t like the idea of people looking at me. Plus, I always wear black, never ever white. I am definitely not a bride type of girl.’

‘Yes, you’d definitely wear a tiara. And a huge dress. Not necessarily white. But not black either.’ We have stopped walking now, and he is grinning at me, facing me as he talks, his words in and out of focus with the squeals and bangs of the fireworks above us. ‘And I’d think of this night, the one when you swore you wouldn’t ever get married because of how it might end.’

The fireworks finish in a dramatic finale, and everybody is suddenly moving around us impatiently, wanting to carry on with their lives now that there is no spectacle for them, but we stand still, frozen in our own time and moment. Daniel steps towards me, and his lips press against mine until we are jostled apart. My hair whips in front of my face and Daniel pushes it away with his hand, his fingers brushing my cheek and leaving behind a pleasant flush of heat.

You could make me stay, I think.

I know, he seems to say as we stand and stare at each other, giddy with the euphoria of the night. We’re on the edge of something and we can feel it – the safe soft ground behind us; the sharp, steep drop in front that would take our breath away.

***

We move from the promenade to a sticky, busy bar where we drink warm white wine from glasses with remnants of old lipstick pressed onto the rims. Daniel pulls a face and wipes them with his sleeve, critiques the temperature of the wine, its acidity. But I don’t care about the wine or travelling or being boring or brave. I don’t care about anything other than drinking in every single moment of tonight: the warm, subtle buzz from spending time with Daniel, the thump of the music that vibrates in my body, the kisses and the blurred taxi ride and the press of Daniel’s weight against mine, the taste of him as we fall through the door to my flat, melting into one.

***

Daniel sleeps as soon as it’s over, throwing himself back onto the pillows and sighing, taking my hand and lacing my fingers through his, his eyes closed and his breathing even and deep. I drift in and out of sleep. I think fleetingly of Mike, his hard abdomen that he proudly sculpted at the gym every night, the glistening blonde hairs springing up from his stomach and thighs that always looked so angelic and childlike that they unsettled me slightly. Daniel’s body hair is a stark black against his pale skin. He sleeps silently, smoothly. I curve my body up against his, the warmth of his skin spreading into mine, pleasure curling inside me.

***

I get up early on Saturday to go and meet Nina, trying to ignore my pounding head and my stomach full of cheap wine and the unexpected feelings of desire for this man who I barely know that slip over and under one another like eels.

I’ve arranged to meet Nina in the coffee shop where she works at nine-thirty, which now seems horribly regrettable. But I’ve already cancelled her once. I shouldn’t do it again. Plus, I remind myself as I drag myself from Daniel’s warmth, regardless of how I started to doubt my reasons for wanting to go with Nina last night, it is something I’ve decided that I want to do. I would almost be cancelling myself, the very concept of which reminds me of the other Erica and makes me nauseous, so I shower and get dressed quickly and with as little thought given to the day as possible.

I whisper to Daniel that I’m going, and he nods vaguely but doesn’t wake. I have a hazy but definite memory of him telling me last night that he had a meeting at eleven today in town, and that we could maybe meet for lunch if I was still around when he was done. As I walk from the bus stop to the coffee shop, I take out my phone. He’ll be up now, maybe back at his place. So why hasn’t he messaged me? I imagine him doing all the things I haven’t seen him do, and if I go travelling might never see him do, like stretching in bed before getting up, shaking a can of deodorant and wincing at the cold as he sprays it, eating toast (or cereal? Both? Nothing?), taking short sips of hot coffee, glancing every now and again at morning television as he buttons up his shirt.

Stop it, I try to tell myself. Focus on meeting Nina. Last night was just one night. Daniel seems wonderful, but I barely know him.

Still.

It’s already different to what I had with Mike – sweeter and more intense, a delicious ice cream so cold that it hurts my brain and stops me from thinking straight. I have to be careful, because even if it’s not a rebound, I need to be brave enough to go and have the adventures I have promised myself. I wanted to do it, and my disappearances starting again have made me feel too cautious.

Falling for Daniel, I tell Nina, even considering staying here for him, would just be giving myself an excuse not to be brave and go away.

‘Would it?’ Nina asks, although from the bored look on her face I can tell she doesn’t really care either way.

I look down at my napkin. ‘I don’t know. I thought I knew everything about myself. But now I’m second guessing every decision. Which could all be completely irrelevant anyway, because he still hasn’t messaged me.’

She frowns. She’s having second thoughts about travelling with me because she thinks from this short burst of time with me that I’m the kind of person who vomits up all sorts of feelings every time I’m with a stranger. But I’m not that person. I wasn’t, anyway. I hate people knowing too much about me. How has Daniel, with his surprisingly broad shoulders and black chest hairs and warm skin changed that so suddenly?

‘He’ll message you, I’m sure. Sounds like he’s pretty into you. But the thing for me is, are you coming with me? To Thailand?’

Thailand.

‘It suddenly seems so far away,’ I admit to Nina and she rolls her eyes, snaps a sugar sachet back and forth before tearing it open and dumping it into her half-drunk coffee.

‘Well, yeah. That’s kind of the point. Look, either come or have your fling. You can’t do both. Which would you rather do?’

The question, a simple one in principle, has only the effect of the word fling sending a surge of warm pleasure through me as I am reminded of last night. I’m so busy reliving his warmth and his lips on mine and his hands in my hair, so busy itching to check my phone, relenting, pulling it out from the clutter of my handbag and seeing a glorious double green flash that signals a new message, that I barely even hear my own words.

‘I don’t know.’

Chapter 7

On Monday, when I let myself into the front door of Blackpool Museum, it feels like a whole lifetime has passed. I gently tear the Post-it messages from my computer screen and scan through them: people to call, emails to compose, things to collect. I picture myself as I left the museum before my time off just over a week ago. I didn’t even know Daniel properly then: he was just the man I met at the party. After worrying yesterday when I met Nina that he wasn’t going to get in touch with me, we messaged all day and saw each other for lunch. I smile as I think of it, a warm rush of the memory of him burning through me. I switch on my computer and take my notepad and pen from my duffel bag and then hear Katie, the curator, bustling in through the door.

‘Hello stranger!’ She grins as she makes her way over to me. ‘I missed you! Have you had a good birthday week off?’

‘Well, it wasn’t quite what I expected. It definitely wasn’t all bad, though.’ I don’t know Katie that well, and didn’t tell her when Mike ended things with me. I certainly don’t want to launch into the depths of my feelings about Daniel.

Fortunately, Katie doesn’t seem to want to know much more. ‘Fabulous!’ she gives a bright laugh. ‘Life would be boring if it was always what you expected.’

‘I think you’re probably right about that.’

‘You’ve missed all sorts of excitement here, you know. I have a proposition,’ she says as she takes off her denim jacket and throws it over her chair.

‘Really? About what?’

She beams an excited scarlet-lipstick smile. ‘I’ve fought and fought. It’s been going on for weeks, but I didn’t dare say anything until it was for sure. The council have funded your job for another year! And they have agreed to make it an assistant curator post. You can be involved in the spring exhibition I was telling you about!’ She waves her hands about above her head in celebration, still grinning. Then she stops and frowns at me. ‘You do want it, don’t you? Please say you do! If not, I can advertise it …’ she lets her sentence fizzle out and arches her left eyebrow expectantly.

‘I would love it,’ I begin, trying to ignore the clear sense of relief that is blooming inside me. If I have a renewed contract here, Daniel here, then there is no reason to leave.

Katie frowns. ‘I can sense a “but”. Please don’t let there be a “but”.’

I smile. ‘But …’ It’s not that simple. I have to follow through with my plans. Plus, if my disappearances are back, then they won’t work with a job. They won’t work with Daniel either. Staying here and working at the museum wouldn’t be excuses to make things easier for myself, I realise now as Katie stares at me expectantly. It would probably be the riskiest option to take. I could vanish at any point and let people down without being able to give them an explanation why. It could start to happen as frequently as it did when I was a child. ‘You’ve just given me a lot to think about,’ I tell Katie eventually. ‘I’ve been thinking of going away, trying something new. I met up with someone yesterday who wants me to go to Thailand with her.’

‘Oh, we can cover a holiday,’ Katie says, dismissing this with a bejewelled hand.

‘But I was going to go for a year,’ I say, seeing Katie’s face fall. ‘Not that this doesn’t sound amazing. And I am so grateful to you. I will definitely think about it.’

‘Okay,’ Katie says. She squeezes me on the shoulder ‘I’ll be gutted if you leave, but I do understand. Take a few days to think about it. But think hard. I feel like you’re definitely the right person for the job.’

***

I try to work productively during the morning. There’s a press release that Katie has asked me to prepare to promote the Tower ghost exhibition, and all the emails that I’ve received whilst I’ve been off need responses. I type slowly, the decision I need to make looming in the back of my mind. At lunch time, I go for a walk along the promenade, hoping that the fresh blast of air will help to clear my head like it usually does. The day is clean and bright, the autumn crispness that I felt the other day piercing through the wind.

I love it here, I remind myself, as I take in the grand arched windows of the Tower across the road, the tangle of rollercoasters and rides ahead, the illuminations which rock dangerously in the wind. I love the job, and I can still feel the warm, sweet excitement and flattery of Katie trying so hard to get me the permanent position.

And then there is Daniel. As I force myself through the sharp, salty air, I try to remove him and the way he looks at me, the way he faced his fear of heights just for me, from the decision I have to make.

Mike wouldn’t even have gone to B&Q for me if I’d wanted him to, let alone faced his fear.

But I didn’t want Mike to do that for me, did I? I’d been fine being with him because we only really circled one another; we never lived together, never got bogged down with shared money or the toll of bills or children or DIY. Mike made it so easy never to want those things with him.

I stop walking and stand still on the promenade, in the same spot that Daniel kissed me only a few days ago. People weave around me and the sea rushes towards me as I stand and stare out at the grey beach.

The two disappearances I have had in the last week have brought back everything I felt when I was twelve when they first started happening. I can taste the metallic rush of overwhelming fear that stops my heart and makes my senses strangely still: fear of dropping from the world and missing out on everything I love, fear of getting back and having to answer all the questions I don’t want anyone to ask.

Where have you been, Erica?

Why do you never want to go anywhere on your own, Erica?

Why did you not turn up for the sleepover, Erica?

Why are you lying to me, Erica?

Eventually, I had to get used to answering the questions, at shaking off people’s strange glances when I returned somewhere after vanishing for hours with no explanation, with my hair wet with rain even though it was a clear day. I had to stay with people as much as possible at the same time as being anonymous enough that they didn’t care or notice if I disappeared for hours when I went to the toilet. And then I met Mike and slotted keenly into a life where we shared little more than a bed at the weekends, where we were constantly at parties with crowds who wouldn’t have known whether I was there or not. The disappearances stopped but I never changed back into someone who opened up to anyone else because the residual fear still dripped slowly into everything I did. Because it stopped happening, I never told Mike that I was different to other people. Even if it had happened whilst I’d been with him, I wouldn’t have needed to tell him where I’d been because I’m sure he would never have asked. If I was late or unreliable then it would have just reaffirmed that we were living a cool, uncomplicated lifestyle unrestricted by all the things he hated.

I think of the other Erica I’ve seen: carefree, sun-kissed, happy. I don’t know for sure but I would bet that she doesn’t have disappearances like I do. It’s in the angle of her head, the volume of her voice, the way she looks straight into people’s eyes, which I stopped doing years ago. If I am brave enough to go ahead with the travelling, to try and lose the old fear that has returned to me in the last few weeks, then maybe I could be more like her.

I could change.

I take my phone out to tap out a quick message to Daniel as the wind pulls my hair around my face and tugs at my jacket. Then I turn my back to the rollercoasters and swinging lights, and walk briskly, against the wind, to the museum.

Chapter 8

Later that night, I sit in Luigi’s for the second time in a month. It’s busy, and waiters scurry around me holding laden trays high above their heads, but for me time seems to be ticking so slowly that it makes me feel fidgety. When I stood on the promenade earlier today and messaged Daniel to ask him to meet me, he said he’d be here at eight. I got the tram to town early so it feels like I’ve already been waiting a while. It’s almost twenty past and with every fragile tick of the clock, doubt pulls away at me more and more.

Perhaps, I think as I fiddle with the cutlery, he’s not coming. And then my decision will have no impact on him anyway. I glance outside at the darkening sky that threatens a storm.