‘Your mother died in truly tragic circumstances that I wish, I wish, I could have protected you from, and now so has your daughter. This is more than anyone should ever have to bear. My already broken heart aches to make this okay for you all the time.’ Dad reached across the kitchen bar and gripped my hand fiercely, his eyes watering. ‘But I can’t. I can’t walk this walk for you, my dearest child. I can tell you though, that trying to run like this, leaving everything behind, may feel like the answer, but it isn’t.’
‘I know,’ I whispered. ‘And I’m not leaving you, Dad, or Laurel, or cutting anyone out of my life. I will actually miss Ben very much. I’m not in love with him, but I do love him. I just have to go away for a bit.’
Dad sighed.
‘I want to get on a plane,’ I said truthfully. ‘I’ve made so many mistakes, and I can’t make them right. I don’t know how to make them right. It’s too much. I can’t do it.’ The tears began to spill over again.
Dad got up, came over and hugged me to him as I sobbed into his sleeve.
‘I understand, but you still take yourself with you, Jess. Wherever you go.’ He exhaled deeply. ‘Twenty-four is too young for all of this.’ He released me and walked stiffly over to the sideboard. Pulling open one of the drawers, he removed his wallet, and handed me a bank card. ‘Use this one. The pin is 3476. I’ll top it up in the morning – and I’ll keep it topped up. I also need to know that you’re safe, OK? Please don’t just disappear.’
I hesitated, then took it. ‘Thank you. I’ll pay you back. I’m going to get a job as soon as I can. I’m not going to take my mobile phone. It wouldn’t be fair to Ben, but I promise I’ll stay in touch.’
‘And do you also promise there’s nothing you want to tell me that I could help with?’
I thought of Louise, trying to protect her child and keep her safe. Dad was right. You do anything for your children. Anything at all. I shook my head. ‘There’s honestly nothing more to say.’
* * *
‘Jess?’ Ben called across the landing, and I jolted in the darkness. ‘Are you still awake?’
I blinked, sleepy and confused. ‘Yes. Why?’
There was a creak of floorboards, the door to Beth’s room pushed open and Ben stood there in his boxers and a T-shirt, shivering. He folded his muscular arms across his chest and said: ‘Please will you sleep with me tonight? Not like that… I just really need the company. I’m sorry to wake you, and to ask.’
‘Sure,’ I said, still half asleep. ‘I’ll be right there, just give me a minute.’
He disappeared, and I sat up, rubbing my eyes, before automatically grabbing the pillow and shuffling out into the hall. It was only when I arrived at the threshold of our room, I realised the significance of this; getting into bed with him for the last time. I hesitated. I hadn’t slept in here since before the funeral, and he hadn’t asked me to. Would it be better to refuse now, knowing what I was going to do in the morning?
He turned to see me. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered. ‘I had a bad dream.’
I went in, and sat on the end of the bed. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’
‘No. Can you just hug me?’
I put my pillow down and climbed in next to him. He wriggled awkwardly into my arms, and I realised he was quietly crying. I held him, stroking his head, like I had done so often with Beth when she woke in the night, and once I was sure he was asleep, I gently slid free, moving to my side of the bed, to wait for the morning to come.
* * *
I must have finally fallen asleep myself in the early hours because, when I woke, Ben was standing over me, donkey jacket already on, holding a cup of tea which he carefully put down on my bedside table.
‘Thank you for last night,’ he said. He straightened up and cleared his throat. ‘Can I talk to you about something quickly, before I go?’
‘Yup.’ I blinked a few times, and tried to focus. ‘I’m listening.’
‘Yesterday my mum told me that a friend of hers mentioned it might be helpful for us to write things down to each other – when we’re finding it hard to talk, or we can sense that the other doesn’t really want to, but might need to. You won’t need to do this because you always know what to say, but I’m so rubbish, I thought I might try it.’ He shrugged uncertainly. ‘I don’t know exactly what you’re supposed to do, if you write letters, or your thoughts or what. But anyway. I’ve had a go. Here.’ He passed me a note and then bent and kissed me. ‘I’ll see you later.’
I held the small piece of paper in my hand until I’d heard the front door slam, and then I unfolded it.
I didn’t know what a broken heart was until now.
Beth not being here hits me like an actual punch in the face, sometimes when I’ve not even got up from the last one.
I don’t know how we make this work. But I want to.
I don’t really want to go away this Christmas. I know we should, but part of me actually would rather stay here, if I’m being honest.
I love you.
I let my hand fall to the bed covers, still holding the piece of paper, and stared at the pattern on our curtains for what felt like an age before I let go of the note, slowly got up and went to the bathroom to shower. Once I was dressed, I came back into the bedroom, reached under the bed and pulled out one of our holdalls. Placing it on the bed, I looked at Ben’s note again, hesitated, and picked it up. Reading it afresh made me want to cry, but I couldn’t – there was nothing left; just as my leaving was going to break what remained of Ben’s heart.
But if I didn’t…
Louise would tell him everything.
Could I tell Ben the truth myself after all? Stay, and tell him? I couldn’t think straight. I was beginning to believe Dad was right, I wasn’t capable of making this decision.
I thought then, about what Ben had said; I should write my feelings down. Fetching my notepaper and pen from the cupboard in the sitting room, I sank down on the sofa, curled my legs up and under me, and began.
Dearest Ben, I wrote.
There’s something I need to tell you
But I didn’t know what to say next. I sat there for so long my legs went stiff before I put the pad and pen down, and went up Beth’s room instead. I sat down on the carpet, leant back on the wall and looked around me, fixing it all in my mind. I gently touched her bedspread, smoothing the wrinkles. I reached under the bed and pulled out the last three books we had read together the night before she died, and carefully slotted them back into place on the bookshelves with all the others.
I knew then how the rest of the letter was going to run.
I got to my feet and left the room, gently closing the door tightly behind me.
Part 2
Seventeen Years Later
Chapter Nine
Sunday, 20th November 2016
‘Happy Birthday to you!
Happy Birthday to you!
Happy Birthday, dear Ed!
Happy Birthday to you!’
We all cheer and pull party poppers as my husband leans forward to blow his candles out.
‘Mind your hat!’ His sister Kate jumps up and snatches the paper party crown off his head. ‘You’ll set what’s left of your hair on fire.’
‘Hey!’ says Ed, pretending to be offended, and pats the back of his head. ‘Less of that, thanks very much.’
‘You’re right, there is,’ Kate agrees. ‘That’s my point. You want to hold on to what you’ve got.’
‘Steady, Katie.’ Ed’s dad puts a hand on his daughter’s arm. ‘He can’t help it – there’s that many candles on the cake, the whole pub’s going to go up if we’re not careful.’
‘Except, sorry to point out the obvious, Dad,’ Ed turns to Bob, ‘but if I’m now old as God’s dog – that makes you…’
‘Peter Pan,’ Bob says decisively. ‘I don’t age, me.’
‘That’s true, actually,’ I agree. ‘You’ve not changed in the eight years I’ve known you.’