‘Laurel,’ I cut in, ‘I like hearing Beth’s name. It helps. You don’t need to worry about saying it. It’s people not saying it that’s hard.’
She coloured. ‘Sorry. It’s just, I don’t like to make you think about her, if you’re not, and—’
‘I am thinking about her every second, every minute. It’s really OK to say her name.’
Laurel bit her lip, and I felt bad for picking her up. ‘Carry on.’
‘Well, I know Ben really wanted a brother or sister for Beth, but…’ she paused, ‘please, please don’t tell me Ben has suggested you start trying again NOW?’
‘No, of course not. Not at all,’ I said quickly.
She looked relieved. ‘I didn’t think that sounded much like him.’
Although, of course, if I were to stay, he would undoubtedly suggest that, at some point in the not too distant future, and what then? I shifted uncomfortably. ‘Can I ask you something? Do you believe in “the one”?’
Laurel looked at me carefully. ‘You know I do. But that doesn’t mean I’m right.’ She hesitated. ‘Jess, what you and Ben have is really amazing. You’re the best of friends – you have a lot of history together, he’s been there for you through thick and thin, and you were incredible parents to Beth. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is. Please don’t start questioning everything in your life; you’re going through such a devastating time. Now is not when you should be making any major decisions that you might regret later.’ She looked at me pleadingly, and I fell silent. Everything she’d just said about Ben was true; she had long been a fervent supporter of his: one of the reasons why I’d never told her about Simon.
‘I think I might need to leave Ben.’ I felt dazed hearing myself say it aloud.
She looked devastated. ‘Oh, Jess, but he loves you so much! I know things haven’t always been what you might have chosen them to be, but please don’t do anything now. Genuinely, I don’t think you’re in your right mind. Not that you need lessons in how grief works, of course.’
I sighed and leant my head sideways, resting it briefly on hers. I couldn’t even begin to explain to her how Beth dying and Mum’s death were so completely different. How much I wished with my whole heart that it could have been me, and not Beth – that I would have given my life for her to live.
‘I’m not trying to tell you something you don’t already know,’ she said awkwardly. ‘I know when my grandmother died, I felt as if—’
‘The thing is, I do love Ben,’ I cut across her rudely, my goodwill vanishing instantly. I literally couldn’t bear another person’s well-meaning comparison of Beth dying to their having lost one of their relatives. It made me insanely angry. They had no idea, and they should thank God for it. ‘But there have already been lots of times when I should have ended it, and I didn’t. He deserves to be happy. It was different when we had Beth, there was a reason for us to make it work, but now… like you said, we’re only 24.’ I was deeply unsettled to realise I actually wasn’t sure if everything I’d just said was driven by Louise’s blackmail and the overwhelming guilt she’d triggered or if I was finally acting on long-held, genuine feelings.
‘It’s just so sad.’ Laurel was near to tears. ‘Could you not wait until after Christmas? It was always going to be a really, really shit time for you both. Just go away, like he wants you to, and see how you feel about it in January. Don’t you think?’
I exhaled deeply.
‘Please? For me?’ she begged. ‘Don’t do anything just yet. Why don’t you come out tonight? There’s just a few of us from school having a couple of pre-Christmas drinks. Nothing big. Everyone would love to see you both.’
I just stared at her for a moment, blankly. Christmas drinks? She was trying. It wasn’t her fault. I shook my head. ‘Thank you, but I think I’ll pass. What time is it now though?’ I glanced past her anxiously at the clock. The hands were creeping closer to two o’clock. One hour left to make my decision.
‘Jess, there really is no rush to do anything about Ben, you know? Not when you’ve been thinking about this for such a long time, really. A week or two more won’t make any difference at all.’
Even that wasn’t true any more.
* * *
I finally managed to pack her off at twenty to three, insisting that I would be fine, I wouldn’t do anything rash, and I just wanted to rest. As she unwittingly stepped into Louise’s footprints in the snow, and turned to blow me a kiss, I blew one back and, shutting the front door, pulled Louise’s piece of paper from my pocket, and went to find the phone.
I lifted it down onto the carpet, and stared at it for a moment before stretching out on the floor, holding the number tightly in my hand as I looked up at the white paper lampshade, and tried to calm my thoughts. It made me think of lying on Mum’s bed next to her after she’d come out of hospital the first time, just after my sixteenth birthday, both of us staring up, like this. She’d remarked how she wished she could live on the ceiling – it all looked so empty and simple. I knew what she meant now. I wanted very much to be somewhere away from all of this.
‘Mum,’ I said slowly, aloud, ‘I know it wasn’t that you didn’t love me enough to stay. Or that you gave no thought to how you leaving would affect me. If you had been able to think, or control it, you would never, ever have done it, but I miss you, Mum – and I need your advice. I know I don’t love Ben. Not in the way I should. Not like I love Simon.’ I completely caught myself by surprise with the last few words I said aloud, and then properly jumped as the phone suddenly sprang into life, and began to ring. I twisted my head in amazement to look at it, then laughed at my own absurdity. ‘That better not actually be you, Mum,’ I said aloud, reaching out to pick up, but I dropped the receiver clumsily.
When I finally got it up to my ear and said, ‘Hello?’, Ben was already repeating, worriedly: ‘Jess? Jessica? Can you hear me? Are you there?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Oh, good.’ He sounded very relieved. ‘For a minute I thought you weren’t in, and I was going to have to try your mobile, but I bet you haven’t even got it switched on, have you?’ He tried to sound light and as if he was teasing, but I knew he wasn’t; he was actually asking. ‘Anyway, I just wanted to call and make sure you’re OK?’
‘What time is it, Ben?’ I asked.
‘Um, it’s ten to three? Why?’
‘No reason.’ I felt sick.
‘Laurel called and said you’re struggling today.’
I breathed out slowly. ‘A bit, yes.’
‘Before you say it, I know every day is a struggle, but you know what I mean. She’s especially worried about you. That’s all.’
‘I’m fine. Really.’
‘You’d tell me if you needed me to come home?’
I closed my eyes. He was such a good man, and I was such a burden to him. ‘Yes. I would. What time will you be back tonight?’
‘About half six. Why?’
‘No reason,’ I lied. ‘I might pop out, that’s all. I didn’t want you to worry if I wasn’t here when you got home.’
‘That’s great!’ He sounded so delighted I couldn’t have felt more disgusted with myself. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Just into town.’
‘Would you like me to come and find you when I’m done?’ he asked eagerly. ‘We could maybe get something to eat?’
‘No!’ I said quickly. ‘Thank you. I’ll come back.’
‘OK,’ he said, not entirely masking his disappointment. ‘I’ll stop and pick up some food on my way home, then. I might make a curry! How about that?’
‘Sounds great.’ I couldn’t bear it any more. ‘I’d better let you get on with some more work. See you later.’ I went to hang up, just as he said: ‘Jess? Dress up warm. It’s really cold out. And Jess?’
‘Yes, Ben?’
‘I love you.’