‘I didn’t go in. I just stood outside. There was a carol concert.’
He took another mouthful. ‘Had you been planning to go to it?’
‘Yes,’ I lied. ‘But it turned out I couldn’t really face it after all.’
‘So, what did you do instead? Just walk around a bit?’
‘Yes.’
He looked troubled. ‘Didn’t you even?—’
‘So how was your day?’ I cut in quickly. ‘Did you get that house?’
He brightened. ‘Yes, and it turns out next door might be coming on the market too, Dad’s tickled pink. Talking of which, when we’ve had this, shall we make the call on Christmas? Let’s face it, we could do a lot worse than Barbados!’ He gave me a brave smile, and my heart ached for him. ‘And then I’ll go to Blockbuster and get us a vid if you like? What about that Notting Hill? You like Hugh Grant.’
‘Actually, I’d really like to go and check on Dad, if that’s OK?’ I forced down another mouthful, trying not to gag. The sauce was incredibly rich. ‘I’m a bit worried about him being in on his own, and feeling under the weather.’
‘How are you going to get there?’
‘I’ll drive.’
‘But Jess, the roads really aren’t great. Look, I’ll take you, OK?’
‘Ben,’ I said gently, ‘I’d like to go on my own, please.’
He carried on eating in silence for a moment. ‘Tell you what, I’ll drop you at your dad’s and I’ll go and see my parents, then come back to get you. How about that?’
I sighed. ‘If that’s what you’d prefer.’
‘I would. Yes.’ He watched me forking up more food. ‘Just don’t eat it if you don’t want it, Jess.’
‘No, no,’ I insisted, ‘it’s delicious. Thank you.’
We ate in silence for a few more minutes, until he scraped his chair back suddenly, making me jump, and put his empty plate in the sink. ‘I’ll go and make sure the car doesn’t need de-icing, and get my shoes on.’
I managed a few more mouthfuls, but once I was certain he’d gone, I stood up and quietly tipped the rest of it into the bin, covering the evidence with an empty crisp packet and a pizza delivery leaflet. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but I simply couldn’t face it.
* * *
We drove to Dad’s in silence too, Ben concentrating on the road. We slipped at least twice; it was a good job he had driven.
‘I’ll be back to get you in an hour then.’ He twisted to face me when we arrived. ‘Does that give you enough time?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ I opened the passenger door, then turned and kissed him briefly on the cheek before climbing out. I heard the car pull away as I picked my way carefully down Dad’s path and knocked on the door.
The light flicked on in the hall, and through the stained-glass panels at the top, I saw the blurred outline of my father coming down the stairs and felt immediately guilty. He’d clearly been in bed.
‘I’m so sorry, Dad,’ I said, the second he opened the door. ‘I’ve got you up when you should be resting.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ He smiled at the sight of me, but was looking pretty dreadful. In pyjamas and his dressing gown, his nose was streaming, he was clutching a handful of tissues and his hair was uncombed. ‘Come in,’ he said, standing to one side, ‘but don’t kiss me. I don’t want you to get this.’
‘You look pants, Dad.’
‘I feel it, rather,’ he agreed, closing the door behind me.
‘Have you eaten anything today?’
‘I’m fine, Jess. Don’t worry. You really didn’t need to come and check on me. I’m OK.’
‘Let me make you a drink. Would you like a hot toddy?’
‘Well, you could, but I haven’t got any honey, or lemon, so it’d just be a whisky.’
‘Sounds good to me.’
‘Ah,’ he said, following me as I turned and made my way down into the kitchen. ‘You’re up and dressed and you’ve got make-up on, but… how are you today, Jess?’
‘Oh, you know. Wishing it could have been me that died and not Beth. Aching for my baby with every fibre of my being, an overwhelming guilt that makes me feel physically sick that I wasn’t there when she fell.’
‘One of the better days, then?’ Dad said.
‘Yup.’ Tears had already started to leak down my cheeks, and I wiped them away as I reached up to the cupboard for a couple of mugs. ‘It’s starting to get worse, not better. And in other news – I’ve decided to leave Ben.’
Dad sat down heavily on a stool. ‘Right. I see. Does he know?’
I shook my head. ‘Tea or coffee?’
‘Neither. Let’s actually have that whisky. It’s in the larder.’
I took a few steps across the room and found the bottle. I didn’t bother to get glasses though, just slopped a measure into one of the mugs.
‘Jessica,’ Dad rebuked, gently.
‘I’ll have that one then. Here.’ I reached for a wine glass, upside down on the draining board, and poured another shot into it, then offered it to him.
He raised a reproving eyebrow, but took it anyway. ‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers.’ I took a large gulp of mine as I leant against the work surfaces. My empty stomach immediately contorted in protest at my second shot of the day, and my throat scorched.
‘So, you’re leaving Ben because?…’
A woman whose husband I slept with put a knife to my throat, then threatened to tell Ben he’s not Beth’s father, and finally – half deranged – almost glassed herself in front of me.
‘Because it’s the right thing to do.’
Dad took a mouthful of whisky. ‘So you want to leave him?’
‘It’s not that simple.’ I coughed and took another sip. ‘I’m not going to go into the reasons behind my decision, because then, when he asks you, you’ll be able to honestly say that you don’t know. But I’ve no doubt it’s the best thing for him.’
‘Hmmm. I’m not sure it’s ever a good idea to try and make decisions for other people.’
‘Trust me, Dad. This is different. I want to protect him from being hurt… and this way, I will.’
Dad looked at me carefully. ‘Has something happened to prompt this decision?’
I shook my head. ‘No. I just can’t face Christmas and then starting a new year knowing how I feel, and not doing anything about it.’
‘Are you leaving him to be with someone else?’
‘No!’
He held up a defensive hand. ‘So you’ll be coming here, then. That’s all I meant.’
‘Oh, I see. I’m not actually coming here, no. I’m leaving tomorrow… I’m moving away.’
‘What? But Jess, this is crazy! Moving away to where?’
‘I’ll call you when I arrive, and I promise I’ll let Ben know too.’
Dad gave a sharp intake of breath. ‘Oh, Jessica – you’re just going to walk out on him?’
‘The house is his – or his parents’ – in any case. I’d almost rather be able to just leave and keep it fixed in my mind as it is. It would break my heart to have to dismantle her room. I couldn’t do it.’
‘Who says you have to?’
‘Dad. Please.’ I looked up at the ceiling, my eyes clouding with tears again. ‘This is hard enough as it is.’
‘OK,’ he said determinedly, putting his glass down. ‘I’m going to have to break one of the golden rules of talking to a bereaved person, and give you some advice. Sometimes after you’ve had too much to drink, you nonetheless feel like you could get in the car and drive. You are every bit as impaired by your grief right now as if you really were drunk. You are not in control, even though you feel as if you are, and you are not making good choices. You don’t have to make this decision now, so don’t.’
‘I’ve already made it.’