The Atlas of Us

‘He did mention something.’

‘He probably forgot to mention my grandfather had liver disease and was in terrible pain, according to his final letters. He couldn’t take the pain any more.’

Claire thought of the pain her own dad suffered. ‘That must’ve been difficult, making that decision, going through with it,’ she said.

Milo sighed. ‘I understand why he did it. I’d do the same. But it hasn’t exactly helped our family’s reputation.’

‘What reputation?’

His jaw clenched as he looked down at the dusty ground. ‘Mum used to say the James family was cursed – the “James Curse”. There’s lots of stuff in our family’s past going back generations, various scandals. That farmhouse has seen more action than most. If it weren’t for our mad family, we’d have a lot more money, that’s for sure. I personally think it’s more about the James propensity for depression. My dad had problems with drinking, probably the reason he had a heart attack in the end.’

‘I’m sorry, Milo.’

‘It was hard growing up. Just hope I don’t end up the same,’ he mumbled.

‘You don’t strike me as being like that,’ Claire said softly.

He smiled. ‘Mum said the same. She said I’m different from the other James men. Apart from the sleeping in the open, that is,’ he added, raising an eyebrow. He looked up at what remained of the castle walls. ‘Reminds me of Venice in this light,’ he said. ‘Pink crumbling rocks, the strange gaping emptiness of it all.’

‘Very poetic. When did you go?’

‘School trip ages ago. Haven’t you been?’

‘No.’

‘I found it a tad tacky actually. It was probably nicer before the twentieth century got hold of it.’

Claire smiled. ‘I’m pleased you said that. I always thought the same.’

Milo stepped into a large hole in the wall. ‘This’ll make a good photo,’ he said, peering up. ‘Come look.’

‘Can it fit us both in?’

‘Sure.’

It wasn’t so dark inside but it was small, just wide enough to fit three, maybe four people. Milo blinked at Claire in the gloom and her heart rebounded against her chest. She wondered if he could hear it in such a small, quiet space.

‘Here,’ he said, taking her shoulders and twisting her around so she was facing outwards again.

Her arms tingled at the feel of his fingertips through the thin material of her cardigan. She pressed the camera into her chest to try to still her heart.

‘See,’ he murmured into her ear, his lips close to her neck. ‘You get a great angle from here.’

It was true. The sky was framed by the jagged outline of the entrance to this small hideaway, orange light gleaming in through all the different-sized windows. But Claire could hardly focus on it; all she could sense was Milo behind her.

‘Look up,’ he said, smiling. She lifted her camera but he put his hand on her arm. ‘Without hiding behind that camera of yours. Look with your eyes.’

She lowered her camera and did as he asked, taking in the slice of red sky that showed through the gap in the ceiling above. He was so close now, she could feel his breath on the bare skin of her shoulder, almost feel his lips there. She closed her eyes. She had two choices: step away into the safety of the castle, or stay here and see where the moment took them.

Her dad had said something similar a few days before he left.

I want to see where the moment takes me. I want to try a new path.

Where had that led him? Dying of cancer all alone, that’s where.

Claire stepped out of the crevice and thought she heard Milo sigh.

‘We better head back to the car,’ he said after a while. ‘It’ll be dark soon.’

Claire saw Milo as soon as she stepped into the wedding marquee the next day. He was standing with Holly in a dark grey suit, pulling awkwardly at the collar of his white shirt as he watched Matt and Sarah’s wedding guests walk in from the warm autumnal evening. When he caught sight of Claire, he stopped what he was doing and smiled.

She smoothed down her hair then walked up to him and Holly, feeling awkward in her oriental dress, the kitten heels of her shoes digging into the mud.

‘I love your dress, Claire,’ Holly said. ‘Is it from your travels?’

Claire nodded. ‘Japan.’

‘I’d so love to go there! A Japanese lady came to school to tell us about their culture. It’s so different from boring old England,’ she said, wrinkling her nose as she looked towards the farmhouse.

Claire smiled. She remembered feeling the same each time her family returned to the UK for a family event. ‘Maybe you will go to Japan one day.’ She took in Holly’s dress, the same blue taffeta one she’d worn for her birthday. ‘You look pretty yourself, Holly.’

‘I’m not so sure. Dad said he can’t afford a new one,’ she said. ‘It’s too childish. They’ll all think I’m a little girl.’

‘No they won’t,’ Milo said, putting his hand on his niece’s shoulder. ‘Claire’s right, you look really pretty in it.’ Holly looked up at Milo, beaming at him.

Claire pulled the bejewelled clip from her hair. ‘Take this,’ she said to Holly. ‘It goes better with your dress than mine.’

Milo smiled.

‘Oh, I can’t!’ Holly said.

‘Please, consider it a belated birthday present. A freedom fighter in India gave it to me when I was about your age so you can wear it and feel very grown up knowing that.’

Holly’s eyes lit up as she took it, staring down at it in her open palm as Milo mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Claire.

‘The heroes!’ someone shouted out.

They turned to see Matt strolling towards them. He was clearly already drunk but looked happy and very handsome in a black morning suit and pink cravat. He pulled Claire and Milo into a sweaty hug, pressing their faces together as Holly laughed. Then he beckoned some friends over and they spent the next twenty minutes listening to him tell the story of his ‘rescue’ all over again.

‘If I have to hear that story again,’ a familiar voice murmured next to Claire, ‘I think I’ll combust.’

She smiled. ‘Hello, Jay.’

He was wearing an usher’s suit in a similar style to Matt’s but he’d added a dash of his own style with a smart top hat and pink silk handkerchief.

‘I’m pleased you’re here,’ he said, completely ignoring Milo. ‘I want you to meet Yasmine. She’s an associate editor at Travel magazine in the US and was only saying the other day how she needs some fresh blood on her editorial team.’

Travel was big, glossy and had a huge circulation aimed at people who had the money to discover new places without missing out on the luxuries. Her dad would turn in his grave at the thought of her working for a ‘sell-out’ magazine, as he’d call it. But she’d heard great things about the way they treated their staff, a contrast to her current employers. And if her marriage was really over, she’d need a change. She couldn’t face still living in Reading, seeing the same people, bumping into Ben.