I'll never forget the day I got the phone call. I was still in bed despite it being nearly 2 in the afternoon, following a late party to celebrate the end of term. My fellow students at HCC really knew how to party and I wasn't about to be left behind!
My mums voice screamed up the stairs calling my name but, not wanting to be disturbed, I just pulled the duvet over my head and tried to ignore her.
I'll always be grateful that she didn't let me get away with that as, only seconds later, the duvet was torn from my body leaving me blinking and startled in the sudden brightness of the room.
"There's a phone call for you."
"Tell them I'll call back." I mumbled as I tried to reach for the duvet but she kept it from my reach.
"I think you'll want to take this... it's Frankie Osbourne."
I shot upright at the sound of her name. I'd barely spoken to her in the 18 months he'd been gone.
We'd exchanged vague pleasantries when our paths crossed at the Dog and she took the time to let me know he got into Trinity, but beyond that we had very little contact. I think she always blamed me for him leaving and to be honest there were times that I blamed myself for not trying to stop him.
But now she was on the phone waiting for me and all I could think was that something awful must have happened.
With a terrible panic in my chest I raced down the stairs and grabbed the receiver in a shaky hand.
"Hello?" My voice trembled as I spoke.
"John Paul, hi.."
"What's happened? Is he alright?"
There was a soft laugh and I immediately felt a sense of relief. That was not the sound of a woman whose son had been hurt.
"He's coming home for Christmas... and he asked me to call you... he wants to come and see you… if that's OK."
I could hardly breathe; the room seemed to spin around me. Whether that was caused by the cast consumption of alcohol the night before or the thought of seeing him again I couldn't be sure.
I closed my eyes tightly and all I could see behind the darkness of my lids was him. His soft brown eyes looking back at me… smiling at me… just like I remembered.
"John Paul?"
I realised I hadn't replied to her but somehow the words seemed a million miles away.
"If you don't want to see him I'm sure he'll understand..."
"NO! I mean yes... yes of course I'd like to see him... when's he due home?"
"Tomorrow... sometime in the afternoon... I'll let him know you're expecting him."
I stood holding the receiver long after Frankie had hung up her words still running around my head.
18 months after a train took Craig Dean from my life another one was about to bring him back.
---
She had been nagging me for months to pay a visit home but I'd always resisted.
The first Christmas away from my family had been hard but I'd kept away for my own sake as much as for his. Seeing him again so soon would have only hurt us both. The memory of what I'd done was still too raw. So I'd stayed in Ireland alone.
There had been so many times that I'd wanted to call him just to hear his voice again. Just like I had known there would be. There were so many times that I was glad I'd left all those old numbers behind, he deserved to be able to get on with his life without me and I needed to get on with mine without him.
But somehow this time when she asked me to come home for Christmas I heard myself agreeing and, before I knew it, I had my journey booked and I was ready to go.
Perhaps 18 months apart had been long enough. Maybe now we were ready to see each other again. But just maybe he wouldn't want to know. I couldn't risk turning up on his doorstep and having the door slammed in my face. I couldn't bare the thought of such rejection, not from him. So I asked my mum to phone him and ask if he would see me.
Waiting for her to call me back felt like a lifetime. A nervous sickness washed over me as I imagined his face... I could almost hear him saying NO.
He'd said that he forgave me when we parted and that he understood. But things change, people change and I didn't know if he was the same person I'd left behind. I didn't know if I was the same person anymore.
I'd been holding my mobile so tightly that I jumped with fright when it rang in my hand, my home number illuminated on the display. I took a deep breath before answering.
"Well?"
"He'll see you."
"How did he sound?"
"OK… confused."
"Thanks."
I closed my eyes and lay back on my bed. In less than 24 hours I would see him again. I would look into the startling blueness of his eyes and then I would know. For 18 months I had wondered and in a day I would know.
---
I awoke early the next morning even though I knew he wouldn't be arriving for hours. How could I sleep knowing that each second that passed was bringing him closer to me?
I stood in the shower enjoying the warm caress of the water wondering exactly where he was at that moment, was he thinking about me?
I changed my shirt countless times before settling on that black one that he'd said he liked on me. I hadn't worn it since he left as it reminded me too much of him. It had been hanging in my wardrobe waiting for his return. Waiting just like I had been without being aware of it.
I laughed softly to myself as I thought about what he might be wearing. It was cold outside, would he opt for one of his imaginative, and yet somehow worrying, articles of knitwear that he seemed to love so much. Or at least he used to love. Maybe his tastes had changed now. But I hoped not. He wouldn't be my Craig without at least one dubious cardigan in his collection.
And then there was nothing to do but wait. I watched the clock as the hours ticked by.
In the silence of the room I began to let my mind wander, drifting back to the days we'd been happy together, when all we needed was each other. Back when I knew I was loved… back before it all went wrong. I could see his eyes as clearly as I when I last looked into them. Deep and brown and with an unnerving ability to look right into my soul. He could look into my very being and to understand what was there.
I was so caught up in my reverie that the sudden knock at the door startled me. It echoed loudly in the quietness of the room.
18 months after Craig Dean had left Chester he'd finally come home.
---
Travelling home felt like the longest journey I had ever made. As I leant with my head resting against the cool glass of the window I didn't see the blur of buildings and fields as I sped by. Instead all I could see were those pale blue eyes waiting to welcome me back. I had never been able to shake the memory of those eyes. Two pools of the purest blue. Sometimes when I'd looked into them I'd felt like I could almost drown, but to look into them again it would be worth the sacrifice.
I felt my heart beat a little faster as the signs for Chester came into view. This was the closest I'd been to him in a year and a half and before long I would be close enough to touch him again. Would I even be allowed to touch him again?
As I climbed into the back seat of a taxi and asked the driver to take me to Hollyoaks village I couldn't help but think back to the last time I had been at this very same station. The time when we'd said goodbye and I'd never expected to see him again.
My mum was waiting outside the Dog when my taxi arrived and she pulled me into her arms almost before I got out of the car.
Covering my face with kisses she repeated over and over how much she'd missed me. A show of affection conducted in the embarrassing way only mothers can truly accomplish. But I didn't mind. I'd missed my family and it felt good to see them again. But at that moment there was someone I wanted to see even more.
Sensing my restlessness my mum told Jack to take my cases inside and with a smile she told me to go.
"He's probably waiting for you too," she said.
I just nodded and, after hugging her again, I set off on the short walk to the McQueen's house.
Walking through the streets of Hollyoaks village felt both alien and familiar. The buildings and people seemed unchanged and yet they were still different. Or perhaps after 18 months away it was me that was different.
As I turned into his street I felt my breath catch in my chest. This was it after 18 months I was back.
I raised my hand and felt it connect solidly with the wood of his front door.
I was home. Home to Chester, home to Hollyoaks... home to John Paul.
