‘How long has it been since we walked this way together?’ I ask. ‘We used to come here all the time, do you remember?’
‘Yes, I remember those disgusting cheese-and-onion sandwiches you used to bring with you, and Dad scaring Zac witless with all those ghost stories.’
I frown at her, recalling neither. ‘I remember that you could never stay with us – always disappearing around the next bend, finding the perfect sticks for Snoopy,’ I tell her.
For a moment I am joined by the apparitions of my younger children. Georgia’s forehead barely reaches my waist as she runs ahead of me, wearing her old pink anorak and those zebra wellingtons she had loved so much, chasing after our long-dead beagle. Next to me, Zac rides on Callum’s shoulders, his small hand straining to touch those leaves on the trees that are just out of his grasp. It is so real that when I hear Georgia speak I don’t want to break the trance. But it’s not up to me. They are already gone.
‘Mum?’
‘Sorry, what?’
‘How did you know that you were in love with Dad?’
I have to mentally repeat her words to check she has just asked what I think she has. It is the last thing I expected. I am afraid she has spotted how terrible things are between Callum and me, and then I catch her expression and realise this isn’t really a query about me at all. My mind runs away with itself wondering whom she is talking about, and I have to curb my curiosity in order to stay on task and consider the question.
‘It’s quite a hard thing to pin down. I think . . . we just felt right – we understood each other. I couldn’t wait to see him, and whenever we were apart it felt like some piece of myself was missing. I never had to think something through before I said it, because he already understood me . . .’ I play back my little speech and realise that nothing I’ve said remains applicable today; another little twist of the knife.
I keep my voice gentle. ‘Can I ask why you’re interested?’
She doesn’t look at me. ‘I just wondered, that’s all.’
Even though I know I’m straying into just the territory I’d promised myself I would avoid, I cannot help it. ‘Danny seems like a nice lad.’
Georgia snorts. ‘Don’t get the wrong end of the stick, Mum – he’s great, but I’m not in love with Danny.’
‘Well, he cares about you. He came to see me today . . .’ I trail off, wondering if I’m about to break some vital rule of client confidentiality. I remind myself that Danny didn’t come to see me for counselling, nor did he ask for any of our conversation to be kept from Georgia. Yet I still feel that to say anything more would be wrong, which is why it’s difficult when Georgia’s interest is, understandably, piqued straightaway.
‘What did he want? You don’t counsel him, do you?’
‘No. He wanted to check how Sophia was, and how you are too. He was still in shock, as you’d imagine.’ I recall what else he said, and decide to take the plunge. ‘He also seemed suspicious about the accident. He thinks there could be more to it.’ I turn to her. ‘Do you think that might be the case?’
Georgia stops walking. ‘Really? What do you mean?’
I move closer. ‘I asked him why none of you saw the car’s headlights or heard the engine – I thought about it last night too. Could it be that . . . that . . .’ I can’t bring myself to say the words, but she is staring at me, waiting, and now I’ve gone this far I have no choice. ‘Could there have been anything malicious about the accident? Do you think the driver, whoever it was, didn’t see you – or that they—’
‘Stop, Mum.’
I am angry with myself for scaring her. But I need to know what’s going on so I can protect her. ‘Sweetheart, I don’t mean to—’
‘What exactly did Danny say?’
I vacillate, trying to find the right words. ‘He didn’t know anything for sure, he said he just had the impression that the car crept up behind you.’
Georgia starts to walk again, going so fast I’m almost at a run trying to keep up with her. ‘Georgia, I’m sorry . . .’
‘I don’t know what to think now.’ She is a few steps ahead of me, talking over her shoulder, one of her hands massaging the back of her neck. ‘What did you say to Danny when he told you this?’
‘I didn’t say anything – I just listened.’
‘Of course, that’s all you ever do, isn’t it.’
Her words leave a sting. How can she think that listening is a weakness? I try to bite back my frustration, to keep my tone even. ‘Georgia, what do you mean? How could I do anything else – I wasn’t there . . .’