A Healing Love
Copyright© 2025 by Marc Nobbs
Chapter 35: Legacy
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 35: Legacy - Paul Robertson's journey continues as his past and present collide at a star-studded movie premiere, where a connection that once terrified him reignites with passion that threatens to consume them both. Fighting to forge a new future for himself and stop drifting, Paul must finally become the man he’s always been afraid to be. A beautiful, bittersweet exploration of grief, social responsibility, the healing power of love, and learning that sometimes loving someone means letting them go.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction
By the time Alannah and I made it back downstairs and entered the Assembly Hall, it was almost three. Most of the audience had taken their seats, and a low hum of anticipation filled the room. It wasn’t quite up there with the atmosphere ahead of one of Kayla’s concerts, but it still made me nervous—I was the one performing today, not Kayla, even if it was only a five-minute speech.
Will and Chrissy were waiting at the back of the room with Mr Matthews and a young man who I didn’t recognise but assumed was Ryan.
“You found her then?” Will said.
I nodded.
“All good?”
I nodded again. “Although I’m going to sit next to her on the stage if that’s okay.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“It just feels wrong to sit with you old folks, you know?” I grinned, and Will gave me a knowing smile.
“I’ll get someone to rearrange the furniture.” He strode over to one of the people who’d set out the chairs earlier.
“Paul,” Chrissy said, gesturing to the young man standing to her left. “This is Ryan Lomas, the second of our Award recipients this year.”
Ryan stepped forward and held out his hand. He was a big lad—probably an inch taller than me with broad shoulders.
I took his hand, looked him in the eye and squeezed harder than I usually would have.
“Nice to meet you, Paul,” he said. “I always looked up to you. We all did.”
I frowned. “We?”
“Us townies. You were ... An inspiration, you know? You got out of here rather than just ending up at the factory. Showed the rest of us it could be done.”
I nodded. Then leaned in close and whispered in his ear. “Lana’s just told me what you did to her the night of the GCSE end-of-exams party.”
“What I—”
“Shush. Let’s be clear, it might have been a mistake. You might have gotten carried away. You might be a good bloke and not done anything like that before or since, but if I could find a way to take this award away from you without telling everyone you tried to sexually assault her, I would. But I can’t. So, I’ll smile. I’ll play nice. But if you so much as look at Lana funny today, I swear, I will break you. We clear?”
I pulled away and looked him in the eye. He nodded.
“Paul, I...” I shook my head, and his words died on his lips.
I let go of his hand and turned to Chrissy. “Where’s Carly?”
Chrissy grinned. “Charming our lovely local politicians. They’re all desperate to get a photo with her for their social media. It’s quite funny, actually. But she’s fine. She’s sitting in the front row between the mayors of Micester and Westmouth.”
I nodded.
“So,” Will said, returning after giving instructions to move the chairs about on the stage. “Shall we get this party started?”
“Good afternoon, ladies, gentlemen and honoured guests. Friends. Family. All those who share our vision of hope, thank you for being here today for the launch of The Clarissa Trust.”
There was a polite smattering of applause.
Chrissy stood at the lectern, gripping its sides, one leg slightly bent, addressing the room with an air of confidence that I’m sure was as much of an act as the one I was soon to be putting on. I glanced at Lana sitting to my right, and she smiled at me. To my left sat Ryan, looking out at those assembled. Neither of them was expected to speak. Yes, Lana would perform a piece on her cello, but apart from that, all she and Ryan needed to do was shake hands with and accept a certificate from the WolfgangHaus chairman.
“Today is about hope,” Chrissy said. “It’s about providing opportunity. And it’s about honouring a truly remarkable young woman, my daughter, whose dreams were stolen from her far too soon but whose spirit remains with us, lighting the way for others.”
She paused and looked across at me, then over at Will.
“It’s hard to believe that it’s been two and a half years since that awful day when Clarissa was so cruelly taken from us. Some days, it feels like a lot longer—a lifetime ago—and her memory is like a faded photograph in a dusty old album. Other days, it feels as if it was only yesterday that she was right here with us, her smile lighting up the world and her laughter filling the room like a song.
“Clarissa was ... Everything. Fierce, funny, kind, and compassionate. And brilliant. She had a way of making everyone around her feel important—as if you were the only person in the room when she spoke to you. And she had dreams—big, bold dreams.”
She paused again, looking out at the room. She took a deep breath.
“I have no doubt that, had Fate not intervened on that summer evening, she would have made this world a better place. But in the blink of an eye, everything changed, and she was gone. And my world.” She glanced over at me. “Our world.” She looked out at the audience again. “Was a colder, less meaningful place.
“No parent should have to bury their child. And no parent should have to inherit from their child. But that’s what happened to me. Clarissa’s father, my dear, darling Andrew, had already taken care of me before we lost him, and so when I was left with Clarissa’s family fortune, I knew I had to put it to use to make the world a better place—just like Clarissa would have done.
“For two years, Will and I searched for the right way to honour Clarissa’s memory and do some good for our community. So when the man that Clarissa loved—the man who had perhaps suffered from her loss more than anyone else—came to us with a brilliant idea, we knew—I knew—we had to make this happen.
“And that’s what we’ve done.” She looked over at me again. “And so, to explain just what that idea was, and how he came up with it, please give a warm welcome to Paul Robertson.”
Chrissy stepped back from the podium and began to clap. The audience again offered a polite, welcoming round of applause. Alannah put her hand on my thigh and squeezed. I looked at her and she mouthed the words, “Good luck.” I smiled and she added, “You’ll be fine.”
Then I stood and walked towards the lectern.
It was time.
I stood at the lectern, my back straight and my head held high, attempting to project confidence that I didn’t feel.
Just like Chrissy, I gripped the sides of the lectern, holding on so tightly that my knuckles turned white. I steeled myself.
My speech rested upon the lectern in front of me, although it was for reference only. I’d practised it enough—I knew every word by heart. But those words were there, on paper, just in case.
In case I stumbled, lost my place, or allowed my nerves and emotions to overwhelm me.
For two years, I’d run from my grief over Clarissa’s death. For two years, I’d simply refused to accept that she was gone. Refused to let her go.
But today...
Today was the day I finally let her go. The day I finally acknowledged that she was gone.
Gone, but not forgotten.
Gone, but her memory—her legacy—would live forever.
My heart pounded in my chest. My stomach did somersaults. I could feel the sweat running in rivulets down my back.
But I took a deep breath and prepared myself to speak. I wasn’t doing this for me.
I was doing it for Clarissa.
I couldn’t let her down. Not now. Not today.
This was her day.
I looked at the audience. So many people. So many faces I didn’t recognise. But so many I did, too. I could see Carly sitting in the front row between the ceremonial mayors of Micester and Westmouth, dressed in their finest with their chains of office around their necks. She was smiling up at me, looking proud. The front row to the left of the aisle was filled with politicians. The Trust’s sponsors and future trustees, whom I’d met earlier—including my wonderful sister—filled the front row to the right. My friends and Clarissa’s friends were behind them—chief among them, Emily, Clarissa’s best friend, her ‘sister from another mother.’ She caught my eye, smiled, and nodded.
I nodded back.
I turned towards my right, to where Chrissy had taken her seat next to Will.
“Thank you, Chrissy,” I said. Then, turning back to the audience, I said, “And thank you to all of you for joining us this afternoon as we honour the memory of the most beautiful, most brilliant, most ... amazing person I ever had the privilege to know.”
I took a deep breath.
“Micester is a town divided. It always has been. Townies on one side. Villagers on the other. Growing up, of course, I didn’t know that. None of us did. In my primary school, we were all Townies. And in Clarissa’s primary school, they were all Villagers. All equal. All the same. It wasn’t until the kids from all the local primaries met right here, in the corridors of Micester High, that we all learned about The Great Divide. Learned about the inequality in our community that holds some back while offering advantages to others.
“And it was because of that divide that, for six years, I knew who Clarissa was, but I didn’t know Clarissa. And that may be one of the biggest regrets of my life.
“Because when we did get to know each other, in our final year in this place, we fell in love, and I will always wonder if...” I paused. “Had we crossed The Great Divide earlier, would we have fallen in love earlier? Would we have had more time together?”
I paused again. Smiled, to myself as much as anything, as I remembered the brief time we did have together.
“Chrissy has already said this, and those of you who knew her already know this, but Clarissa was...” I shook my head. “Clarissa was the sunshine that brightened even the darkest day. Despite what life had put her through—including the loss of the father she adored at such a young age—she was a joyous soul. She always saw the best in people. She was kind, caring and compassionate. She loved life. She was passionate about life.
“And, as Chrissy said, she had dreams.”
I paused again.
“We were on the university campus in Westmouth when she told me her dream of being a teacher. Of shaping young minds and helping them to become the very best people they could be.
“And that’s why The Clarissa Trust and The Clarissa Award are the perfect way to honour her memory and to secure her legacy.”
I looked at two very special people in the second row in front of me. “I have Mark and Imogen to thank for making me realise it.” I turned to face Will and Chrissy sitting to my right. “And I have Will and Chrissy to thank for making it happen.
“But the person I have to thank the most is Clarissa. Because it’s who Clarissa was that makes this trust and these awards possible. It’s her generosity of spirit, her belief in people and her belief that with the right help and encouragement, everyone can succeed.”
I took another deep breath. Nearly there now.
“The Clarissa Trust exists because Clarissa believed in the power of education—in its power to open doors and unlock potential. Education expands minds and creates opportunities. Clarissa believed that. Clarissa wanted to spend her life helping young people expand their minds, unlock their potential and take their opportunities.”
I paused again. Took a moment to look around the room at the people staring up at me.
“This is not an equal or fair world, but it should be. And we have to take every opportunity we can to make it a little bit fairer. A little bit more equal. Everyone should have the same opportunities. And no young person should be denied the opportunities that education, particularly higher education, affords simply because they do not have the financial means to take advantage of it. That is not fair. With The Clarissa Trust, we can ensure that, while we can’t help every young person take advantage of their opportunities, we can help some young people.
“And that’s what Clarissa would have wanted.”
I turned to look at Alannah and Ryan. Then out at the audience again.
“The Clarissa Award isn’t about money. It’s about opportunity and fairness. It’s about giving young people the chance to pursue their dreams, just as Clarissa wanted to. It’s about breaking down barriers, levelling the playing field, even if only by a little bit, and ensuring that talent and potential aren’t held back by circumstances over which they have no control. It’s about trying to provide some small measure of equality of opportunity.”
I looked over at Alannah and Ryan again. I let go of the lectern, turned to face them fully and spoke directly to them. Lana had heard most of my speech but not this bit. I’d left it out of the draft I’d sent to her and had not said it when I read it for her and Lily.
“The Clarissa Trust creates a legacy of hope, resilience and love. Every award the Trust gives carries her name and her belief in people. In you. Accept this award with pride. Carry her legacy forward. Honour her memory with your success. Never doubt your worth. Never let your circumstances define you or hold you back. You are capable of greatness, so be great. We believe in you, just as Clarissa believes in you. So, believe in yourself.”
Lana stared at me. I could see tears in her eyes.
I faced the audience again, but didn’t grip the lectern. Instead, I raised my hand and used it to punctuate my words.
“Clarissa believed in the power of education to unlock potential. She believed in the inherent goodness of people. She believed in a brighter future. And through this Trust, her beliefs will continue to resonate into the future. Her light will shine for years to come, illuminating the way for all that follow.
“This Trust isn’t just a tribute to Clarissa. It’s a testament to her spirit, her dreams, and the enduring love that continues to inspire those of us who knew her every single day. To those who offer their support today, and in the future, thank you for standing with us and with Clarissa. For believing in the power of education and for helping us turn tragedy into something meaningful and beautiful. Clarissa dreamed of making a difference. Today, we begin fulfilling that dream. Together. Thank you.”
I stepped back as the applause began. Carly was the first to rise to her feet. Then Emily. Then Mark and Imogen, and before I knew it, every person in front of me was standing and applauding.
Applauding my speech. My words.
I looked to my right to see Will and Chrissy and Bernie Matthews standing too. Chrissy smiled a broad smile despite the tears in her eyes. Will gave me a thumbs up.
I looked to my left. Both Ryan and Lana were standing, too. Then Lana rushed forward and hugged me.
“That was amazing,” she said into my ear. “And I hate you for hiding that bit from me.”
“No, you don’t,” I replied.
“You’re right. I don’t.” She stopped hugging me and stepped back. “I’ll make you proud, Paul.”
I shook my head. “No, you’ll make Clarissa proud.”
She nodded.
Ryan had stepped forward, too. He held out his hand to me, and I shook it.
“I’ll make her proud. I promise.” He looked at Lana. “We both will.”
I nodded at him. “I know you will.”
The rest of the event was something of a blur, to be honest. Alannah performed her cello solo next, and it was every bit as good as I expected it would be. Then she and Ryan were presented with their awards—gold-edged certificates in frames that they could hang on their walls.
And after that, everyone headed back to the bar, and I had to spend the next hour speaking to people I didn’t know about a young woman they didn’t know. Carly was by my side the whole time. As was Lana. Emily stayed close, too. As did Imogen and Mark.
It was fair to say the event had been a success.
But ultimately, this event didn’t matter. The success of The Trust now rested with those who would benefit from it. In Lana’s hands. And Ryan’s. And every other young person who would receive an award in the future.
Clarissa’s legacy—her memory—was in their care.
And that—I thought as I drove home later that night after dinner at Millie’s and my meeting with Lexi—was how it ought to be.
I wasn’t the only one with a table booked at Millie’s for after the launch. Vicky had set aside the whole restaurant for the sponsors and politicians who’d attended, so the place was packed when I finally got to sit down with my fellow Wintersmith directors, my Executive Assistant, my girlfriend, my friend, and my lecturer. The seven of us ordered drinks first and then perused the menu. Vicky’s food was best described as British/French/Italian fusion with Asian influences.
Basically, it was a little bit of everything from pub grub to pizza and pasta mixed with French classics and curry.
I was on a personal mission to try every dish she offered and was very tempted by her Cymru Chicken Curry, or Welsh Chicken Curry. Chicken breast in a light, mild creamy curry with leeks.
I’m assuming it’s the leeks that made it ‘Welsh.’
“I thought your speech was excellent,” Lexi said after our orders were taken.
I nodded. “Thank you.”
“You made some interesting points. Particularly about the division in the town. The inequality.”
“You know,” I said, “I knew you’d say that.”
“Paul!” There was something ‘off’ about Lana’s tone. It felt like she was telling me off for being rude, but it sounded more like she was pleading with me—to do what, I have no idea.
“No, Alannah, it’s fine,” Lexi said. “Given that every conversation Paul and I have had, outside of questions he has during my lectures, has revolved in some way around inequality. It’s fair that he’d think I’d pick up on that part of his speech.”
“Is this ‘Great Divide’ really as bad as you thought it was growing up, Paul?” Bobby asked. “I mean, I grew up in the East End of London, and there was a divide in my old school, too. Although it was more based on which of the two large housing estates the school served that you were from.”
“I’m just going to sit here and stay quiet,” David said.
I looked at him. “Why?”
“As far as this meeting goes, I think I’m on the wrong side of any inequality. I’m a former public schoolboy. Havenhurst Grammar. You’ve probably not heard of it, it’s not exactly one of the top-tier schools, and the fees weren’t excessive. But I still recognise how privileged that made me and the advantages I got from it.”
“Fees? Carly said, frowning. “At public school?”
I leaned closer to her and whispered, “In England, we call private schools ‘Public schools’ because we’re weird.”
“Define ‘excessive,’” Lexi said.
David shrugged. “The last time I looked, the fees were about twelve grand a year. The top schools are more than double that.”
“That’s still more than someone on minimum wage earns in a year,” Lana said. When we all looked at her, she looked at me and added, “You know that debate I won against Henry?”
I nodded.
“It was on the gender pay gap. I had to learn all sorts of stats on salaries and stuff.”
Lexi smiled. “She’s right, of course. Twelve thousand is just under minimum wage and a little less than half average earnings.”
David smiled. “Like I said, I recognise the privilege. And the advantage. And it’s one I fully intend to extend to Alfie when he starts school in September.”
“I never knew you were a public schoolboy,” Bobby said. He grinned. “Looking at you in a different light now.”
“Says the chap who’s just told us he was an East End Gangster.”
Laughing, Bobby pointed at the accountant and said, “I never said I was a gangster.” He grinned. “My best mate was, but not me. I was the ‘good kid.’”
David laughed and said, “Yeah, right.”
Bobby shook his head. “The point is, there’s division in every school, isn’t there? Every community. In mine, it was about the housing estates. I’ll bet there was a divide in your school, too, right, Miss Bennett?”
She smiled. “Please, call me Lexi. But yes, there was. Although, in my school, it was Reds and Blues, obviously.”