Apologies for the late update! Life sometimes gets in the way of things, but just know that I will never abandon this story. Love you all x
"And I've been a fool and I've been blind. I can never leave the past behind, I can see no way, I can see no way"
Running barefoot back to the house, I almost slip on a part of the decking, my wet feet the cause. I'm dripping from head to toe, but it brings me a great sense of nostalgia of memories from my childhood. My childhood where we would spend all day in the river, spending so long in the water that our fingers became prune-like, and our skin burnt red from lack of sunscreen.
Sliding the back door open as quietly as I can, I'm face to face with Lucy, who opens her mouth slightly in shock.
"Shh," I mouth, giggling. The last thing I need is for my mum to be on the scene, complaining about me bringing my wet feet muddled with grass and dirt.
Smiling, she shakes her head in disappointment, and goes into the lounge room, striking up a conversation with my mother, keeping her away from the scene of the crime.
Tip-toeing back to my bedroom, I undress with a sense of purpose, hurriedly changing out of my bathers and into some dry clothes, whilst rubbing a towel haphazardly over my body to dry off. Taking the same towel, I use my feet to drag it along the wooden floorboards, mopping up the trail of water - but too late.
"Ivory!" I hear my name being called.
Cringing, I tense my body, and pop my head around the corner to see her.
"You called?" I reply, hoping not to annoy her anymore than I have done.
"What's all this?" she scolds, annoyed with the mess I've brought in.
"I know, I know," I answer, rolling my eyes. "I'm cleaning it now."
Tutting, she shakes her head.
"Well hurry up, dinner's ready in the dining room," she informs me, turning on her heels.
Very carefully I clean up the remnants of my swim, and join my family who are already seated at the table, waiting for me.
Mum seems inconvenienced by my actions, while my dad and I share a knowing smile, my eyes downcast to prevent me from cracking up. My mother has resented the fact that I haven't grown into the person she always wanted me to be. Throughout my childhood I was forever hearing, 'why can't you be more like your sister?' and how I need to start taking everything more seriously. My father on the other hand, embraced my soul, encouraging me to be my own person.
Everyone starts helping themselves to the meal when I take a seat at the table, while we all start hearing about each other's day.
"How was your day?" my dad asks, his question directed to me.
Before I get a chance to answer, my mother interjects.
"She spent all day swimming in the river. How lovely it must be to spend one's day so lavishly," she adds, her tone suggesting anything but.
"Lovely," my dad comments, "How was the water Ivy?" he adds, smiling.
"Wonderful," I grin, taking a bite of my potato.
"I don't agree with you encouraging her in this way Peter. She needs to get her head out of the clouds and start focusing on getting a real job."
Not this again.
"How about we stop talking about me like I'm not in the room, for starters," I contribute, spiking a green bean with my fork.
"Mr. Mathers told me he needs an assistant for his firm. I told him you were looking for a job, and he said he'd be happy to interview you tomorrow afternoon."
"Seriously? Did you think of asking me before you arranged this?" I ask, my fork clanging against my plate as I drop it.
"Margaret," my father voices.
"What? She needs to start thinking about her career now. She can't go on modelling the rest of her life. Best she starts taking things more seriously. Besides - it was very generous of Mr. Mathers to offer. He's going out of his way, and I think you should be a whole lot more appreciative."
Scraping my chair out, I stomp my way to my room, slamming my door as I do so. I feel like screaming and throwing things, but hold myself back, and instead lay face down onto my bed, holding back my tears.
How is it that I've managed to have such little control over my own life?
"You shouldn't have done that," I hear my father say to my mother. "You need to stop interfering in her matters."
"She needs to grow up!" she exclaims back, voice raised, in contrast to my father's measured tone.
"That's not for you to decide," he replies back, putting an end to the conversation.
As I run over in my head where my life currently is, as well as where it's heading, I have no idea what choices are right for me. Who's to say that my mother is wrong? Perhaps it would do me some good to stay here and settle down? There's nothing wrong with this place that has seen me grow into the person I am today, and I could be really happy here.
Eventually.
A soft knocking at the door surprises me, and I turn over, awaiting for whoever it is on the other end.
"Ivy?" my dad calls, and immediately I sit upright, wiping the tears from my cheeks.
"Come in," I invite, ready to hear what he has to say to me.
Entering the room, he sits at the end of the bed - an action he has done many a time, forever concerned about my emotional welfare.
"I'm sorry about what happened. What your mother did wasn't right, and I'll try and get her to cancel the interview for you."
"Thanks," I say quietly, letting the silence fill the space while I let my thoughts run free.
"But maybe..." I begin, swallowing. "Maybe she's right. Maybe I do need to start looking for something."
I don't know why, but a small part of me hoped that that something would somehow find me by now, though it's clear that just isn't going to happen for me.
"But is that what you want?" he questions, seeming concerned.
How can I explain in words that I don't even know what I want anymore?
"Well... what else can I do here besides get a job and settle down? What else is there for me?"
Silent, he takes in what I've said, letting the words sink in.
"If I were a selfish man, I'd ask you to stay. I know I'd love to have you here, brightening up the place with your liveliness and beautiful nature, but you know I'm not a selfish man. Your dream has always been to be a big time model, and you finally got there, but you're just giving it up by being here."
"But this is my home!" I cry, defending my actions.
"This hasn't been your home for a long time, pet," he gently confides. "You've long outgrown this place, and it wouldn't be right of you to stay. Don't throw away your dreams because of a stupid video. If I'm sure about anything, it's that you are resilient, and strong, and you've been broken, but it's time you picked yourself back up again and go after whatever it is that you want."
"Thank you," I whisper, haunted by the words he speaks, letting his message resonate with me, knowing he's undoubtedly correct.
He leaves without saying another word, closing the door behind him, and leaving me to think over what he's just said to me. Perhaps he's right. I'm just wasting away my opportunities by being here - opportunities that the teenage version of myself would die for. I grew up here in this little beach town, and for the first time I feel like I just might've outgrown it.
It is here in this moment that I know what I have to do. Grabbing my laptop, I search the soonest flight from Melbourne to London, and without any form of hesitation, I book it, and stare in a daze at the screen, wondering what I'd just done.
"Now are you sure you have everything?" my sister checks, worried I'm going to leave something behind.
It's not like there's much I could do about it considering I've already checked my bags through, and almost ready to go through the lengthy customs process.
"I'm sure," I laugh. "But stop worrying, I'll be back before you know it."
I definitely need to make more of an effort to come back home, even if I didn't leave on the best terms with Mum. Dad, rather predictably was overjoyed at the announcement, whereas my mother didn't say anything at all. I know how she feels about how I live my life, but I'm not going to let her opinions prevent me from pursuing my dreams.
"You better be," she replies. "I can't have my daughter without her auntie by her side."
"What!" I squeal, tears immediately forming. "You found out the sëx?"
Nodding, she places her index finger to her lips for me to keep quiet.
"I couldn't bear to find out until the birth. Besides myself, you're the only person who knows."
Grabbing her by the shoulders I pull her in for a hug, not knowing how I'll ever be able to let go.
"I love you," I tell her. "I'll be back soon, I promise."
"I love you too," she replies, as we part from the embrace.
We stand there for a moment in silence, both knowing that the remaining seconds are withering away, but neither wanting to say our goodbyes.
"Well-" I begin.
"Yeah, it's probably time to go," she contributes, giving me one last squeeze.
Grabbing my carry on suitcase and handbag, I prepare my departure card and passport to present to the person guarding the customs doors, when I hear my name being called out.
Turning around, my mother comes running through, desperate to reach me in time before I go through.
What would she be doing here?
"Ivy," she exclaims, trying to catch her breath.
"Mum, what are you-" I attempt to ask, before she cuts me off.
"I was... wrong," she admits. "I was wrong... to interfere like that."
"Thank you," I reply in a hurried manner, worried if I'll make it to my gate in time for boarding. "But I can't stay."
Holding her chest to regain composure from the lengthy run, she shakes her head.
"No... I didn't mean that. I need you to know that although I may not understand your world... I still support you."
"Mum," I murmur, absolutely touched that she would make the effort to come all this way to ensure I heard her apology in person. I don't think I've ever heard in all my years of living, that she was wrong.
Smiling, I catch her by surprise by dropping my bags, and throw my arms exuberantly around her, embracing her for the last time before my trip back. Standing rigid, she doesn't quite know how to respond, until she places her hand on my back, patting my back reassuringly.
I hear the announcement that the check-in for my flight is closing, and I pull apart, frantically gathering my things.
"I'm so sorry, I have to go," I inform her, getting ready once again.
"That's okay, just come back soon."
Smiling, I nod.
Walking through the gates I turn back to have one last glance of my mother and sister waiting there for me. They hold each other as they watch my last steps while I'm still in view, and when I turn the corner, a part of me feels like I should turn right back around.
But I keep on going.
Thankful for the first class upgrade offered to me at the gate, I try to comprehend what I've actually done. I'm going back to the place that four months ago I was desperately trying to get away from.
And yet here I am.
Part of me is worried about how I left things. Seeing Harry again in the fragile state that I was in was too much for me to handle. It was something I was neither emotionally or mentally prepared for, though now I feel somewhat able to face him in person.
The time away from London has done so much good for me, and yet my feelings for him remain unchanged. Perhaps I'll always be in love with him.
Opening my laptop I login to my iMessages app, and begin typing out messages to the one person who matters most to me in London - my dear friend Celia. I feel like it's been so long since we've spoken, and I feel terribly responsible for that. Daily messages turned to the occasional weekly message, and that soon turned into months.
Everything I write doesn't seem quite adequate enough, and instead, I make the choice to just show up, hoping that my silence hasn't tarnished what it was that we had.
Opening up my Gmail account, I instead decide to spend my time hacking through the thousands of emails I've let mount, while I watch Curb Your Enthusiasm for some background sound.
I begin going through and sorting through the spam emails in search of any that seem of importance. A recent email catches my eye, and I click it open.
Immediately, I begin typing out a response, hoping that she reads my message in time.
Never did I expect to first hear from her after my escape back home to Melbourne, but was touched that she reached out to me in such a desperate time in my life. It was such a comforting feeling to know that she understood me, rather than judged me for my public humiliation. It says a lot about who she is as a person, and it's great to know that I have another person to turn to if needed.
Opening iMessage once more, I spontaneously send a message to Harry, now that I feel strong enough to hear whatever it is that he has to say to me.
Putting my eye mask on, I lean my seat back into the bed position, and try to at least get some well needed rest before landing.
God knows I'll need it.
"Oh my gosh, thank you so much for picking me up," I greet, kissing her on the cheek hello. "I kind of feel like I'm going to hell for asking a pregnant woman for help though."
"Don't stress, I needed a reason to get out of the house. I've stopped working, and besides getting the nursery ready, there's not much else I have to do."
"How very exciting!" I exclaim. "Nice car, by the way," I add, pointing to the black Range Rover. "It's been a while since I've been in one of these."
"It's not mine," she laughs. "I'm low on petrol and couldn't be bothered filling up, I'm that lazy."
The parking inspector blows his whistle, ordering us to hurry up as we're parked in the pick up zone, intended for no more than 3 minutes.
"Better get going before we get in more trouble," I laugh, raising my eyebrows.
I put the things into the boot, but not before scolding Essie for trying to help with my bags.
"So how does it feel to be back in England," she asks me, once we're in the car, as she pulls out from the curb and onto the road.
"It feels great, actually," I remark, looking out the window. "The weather could do with some improving, however," I smile, but my heart stops momentarily when something on the floor catches my eye.
Surely it couldn't be?
I pick up the strap of a familiar looking brown leather bag at my feet, to get a closer look. Putting it down again, I shake my head, wondering if I'm actually going mad.
"So how shall we surprise Celia?" she smiles, her face giddy with excitement. "I was thinking we could-"
"So who's car did you say this was again?" I ask her, abruptly changing the subject of conversation before she finishes her sentence.
"I didn't," she answers, seeming a little taken aback by my sudden bout of curiosity. "It belongs to the father of my baby," she answers. "Aka the baby daddy."
It takes me a few seconds to realise that my eyes are closed, and my breathing increases as I try to reassure myself that what I'm dreading isn't at all true.
No. Range Rovers are incredibly common nowadays. Not to mention the bag. This is all just an enormous coincidence that we'll be sure to laugh about.
"Ivory, is everything okay?" she asks, concerned for my sudden behavioural shift arousing concern.
"Fine," I answer, my voice high pitched. "I'm fine."
Range Rovers and bags aren't all that rare, but I know of one particular mark that would be considerably difficult to justify. If this is his car, underneath my bottom there should be a tomato sauce stain in the stitching of the seat. Shaking, I want to check, but can't bear to know the truth.
"Are you sure everything is okay?" she asks, glancing over at me.
"It's fine," I answer, my voice trembling. "Just a little car sick," I lie, not wanting to divulge the truth to her.
We near closer and closer to my old neighbourhood, and I listen as she chats away, talking about her baby shower that she has no control in. I'm barely listening, stuck in my own mind, only hearing something about a popcorn machine and a petting zoo, before I blurt out,
"How far along are you?" I ask, almost yelling at her. "Sorry," I add, lowering my voice.
"Uh... Well the baby is due in early August," she answers.
I mentally backtrack the time frame in my head, discovering the conception date would have been sometime roughly in November to December, and I feel physically sick.
"Essie is such a pretty name," I comment, trying to find out as much as I can before I get home. "Is it a nickname for something... like Ebony perhaps?"
"Wow, you're good," she replies, eyebrows furrowed. "My name is Ebony, though it's based off my middle name, Estella. I know it seems strange, though my mother used only that name since I can recall, and the name has just stuck."
The name Ebony is common, I remind myself. Though adding it to the growing list of coincidences, it's becoming harder and harder for me to explain this rationally. No matter how hard I try, I can't shake the thought that she could have been with him... while he was with me.
I almost analyse her and what I know from her, wondering if they had a bond as strong as ours. She and I are quite different, and I wonder what it is that I am lacking that made him love her that little bit more. Or perhaps he's just the womaniser people made him out to be. The charming Harry Styles who captivated the world, and fooled two girls into believing he was in love with them.
I wonder if she fell for his words like I did.
With each passing second, I feel more and more ill, though at the same time, everything is piecing itself out in front of me. It would make sense of why he left me so abruptly. It appears as though I wasn't cheated on, instead, I was unknowingly cheating with him.
"And... and the father. How is everything going? Is he... are you... are you still together?"
"God no," she answers, laughing. "We were barely together when we conceived this little one," she admits, motioning to her bump. "Five or so months back we did try to give it another go. His idea. Though I don't know. It just didn't exactly work out," she sighs. "I'm okay with it though. Slowly coming to terms with the fact that I'm probably going to be single for the rest of my life," she laughs.
Gulping, I nod my head, bile rising to my throat.
Slowing, she pulls into my driveway, and without a second thought, I open the door and plunge to the grass, vomiting in the garden bed.
"Christ!" she exclaims, taking her seat belt off as she rushes to my side with a handful of napkins for me.
Ensuring that everything inside of me has been thrown up, I painfully get to my feet, unable to comprehend the reality I'm now painfully faced with.
She helps take my suitcase out the back for me, and I'm too nauseous to argue with her about lifting it out of the car.
"Here, I'll help you to the door," she offers, rolling the suitcase along the cobblestones.
"No," I insist. "I'm fine here."
After a few minutes of back and forth, she gets into her car, and slowly reverses out of my driveway while I'm faced with the question.
Does she know?
Braking suddenly, she drives forward, and I almost expect her to tell me everything. That she's known all this time. To explain that was the reason she reached out to me - to get to know the girl who she believed caused her relationship to come to a crashing end.
Instead she smiles at me.
"You left your handbag in the front seat," she explains.
Walking over again to the passenger seat, I take my bag, and it's too late. I tried to avoid looking, but clear as day, the stain I left in the car still remains, confirming what I already know deep inside. There's no denying it. I now know the truth.
A wise woman once said that we are only as blind as we want to be. That has always resonated with me over the years until now, where it has drawn itself deep into my soul. No longer will I continue to walk through life with my eyes closed, continuing to give my heart to the devilishly handsome boy who whispered sweet nothings and kissed me in all of the right places.
Not again.
Author's Note: IT HAPPENED! Ivory has pieced together the clues, and now realises that Essie is Ebony - Harry's ex. She also discovered not only that he lied to her, but that he has gotten Essie pregnant, potentially whilst they were still together! Please tell me your thoughts on this, I'm dying to hear them!
By the way, is anyone going to Harry's concert in Melbourne or Auckland? Comment if you are, because I would love to meet you if you are :)
This chapter goes to the lovely soneylove for the comment below. I'm completely flattered, and love that you may have a favourite girl, but can still feel love towards the other, even when you may/may not want to! Thanks so much x
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26/11/17 | 1.29M Views |
The lyrical quote at the beginning of the chapter originated from the song 'Shake It Out' by Florence & The Machine