“I know. Thanks.”
He picked up his coffee mug and took a long sip. He’d thought he knew Jack inside out – they had been inseparable since they were eleven years old. He knew how guilty Jack felt after the accident – hell, he was there – but you didn’t let it get to you like that. You pushed it down, you did what you could to help. You didn’t let it tear your life apart, that was just plain selfish. Jack had let it rip him away from his home, his family, his life, everyone he knew and loved. Why did he have to leave like that, without a word to anyone? Didn’t he know that they needed him back here?
“I dreamt about him last night – Tom,” Ally said, interrupting his thoughts. “I miss him.”
Callum reached across the table for her hand. “We’ll get through this.”
“He should be here. With Jack coming home, I always thought he would be here.”
“It’s gonna be okay. I promise.”
She pulled her hand out of his grasp and wiped her eyes. She was putting on a brave face, but he could see right through the illusion. She had already lost her own father, and now she had lost her surrogate father, too. She was right, it would have been easier if Tom had been here for Jack’s return. Somehow, he had a way of making sure everybody kept their heads.
Pulling up in front of his childhood home, the memories rushed in on Jack. The house looked the same as when he left. He wondered how that could be – how could this symbol of family remain intact when the family within had been torn asunder? He climbed out of the car, singling out the one key he had retained from all those years ago. He stared at it for a moment in the palm of his hand, swallowing hard. Memories pounded at his brain and he had to firmly push them away. He needed to keep them at bay as long as possible. He needed to get through this first.
He slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and headed up the path towards the house. The wooden stairs creaked ominously beneath his feet as he climbed, and he felt like the whole neighbourhood was watching. He unlocked the front door and stepped into the hall.
Home.
Everything looked the same – it even smelt the same. A deep ache settled in the pit of his stomach as he pushed the front door closed and placed his bag on the floor beside it. Jamming his hands into his pockets, he took a few steps, stopping in the living room doorway.
A heart attack, Callum had said, in the living room. His father had died in this room. It was so quiet, he felt like an intruder. There was no noise, save the slow, rhythmic ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. It was the room that time forgot. Nothing had changed and everything had changed.
He looked over at the kitchen doorway, half expecting his father to come through it any minute now. A shuddering breath rumbled through him and he sank down into the nearest armchair.
What if he wasn’t strong enough? What if he messed things up even more, just by being here? What if he couldn’t bring himself to see her? What if she didn’t want to talk to him?
What if I can’t do this, Dad?
Over the past couple of days, he had tried to imagine how this would go – he tried to see the funeral and the conversations with Ally and Callum in his head. Every time it ended badly – anything other than that had to be a fantasy, surely? After all, the mere fact that he was here was too little, too late.
His father had done his best to try and make him face up to his actions, but he couldn’t do it then. Now he was going to be the man his father had always hoped he would be – he would make him proud this time. Yet thinking of the path ahead had his guts churning so much he thought he might throw up.
He leaned his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes.
Maggie put away the last of the dishes and leant against the counter, surveying the tidy kitchen with a critical eye. There were a lot of things she would have no control over in the next few days, but she had control over this. She was all too happy for the distraction.
She started aimlessly wiping down the surface for the hundredth time. Tom’s funeral was tomorrow – Jack could turn up at any time, and unless Ally sent her away, she was going to stick to her like glue. Ally hadn’t even argued with her when she had told her that. After the past four years, she would not just stand by and watch as Jack blew back into town and turned everything upside down again. Once had been enough.
Dropping the dishcloth finally, she headed towards the bedroom to check on Ally. Peering around the corner of her bedroom door, she saw her sitting on the bed, crutches propped up beside her, a small wooden box on her lap. She held the box as if it were made of glass.
She walked in and sat on the bed next to her friend. “What’s that?”