‘Yes.’
The rustle of the woods and the ripple of the river take over our conversation for a moment as the wind whips venomously through the trees. It feels like nature itself is listening in.
‘I didn’t plan it like that,’ I add. ‘It’s not like I woke up one morning and thought I’d replace one brother with the other. It just happened.’
We should have had this conversation all those years ago but some things only become apparent with time. Age changes people. It gives context and experience. Sometimes that’s for the better, sometimes not.
‘I think I knew that,’ Jason replies. ‘I wanted to be with you when you were seeing Wayne – and then, when you weren’t… I let it happen. I—’
‘Don’t.’
He’s about to say something else but stops in the middle of a word. I can’t think of Wayne at the moment. It’s too much.
‘You went on hunger strike,’ I say.
He’s quiet for a moment and takes a few paces off towards the next tree, where he picks at a shard of loose bark. He’d rather not talk about it – but I could say the same.
‘Did you want to kill yourself?’ I ask.
‘No.’ He sighs and then quickly adds, ‘Yes… Maybe… I don’t know. I was messed up back then. They were going to let me die.’
‘But you changed your mind?’
‘I guess.’
He reaches out to take my hand but I pull away and shake my head. He reels back, embarrassed. He says sorry but I say there’s no need. We stand awkwardly for a few moments and then I spot a tree stump on the edge of the clearing. The felled trunk stretches off into the woods, with moss and leaves clumping and growing, giving it a new lease of life. I cross the soft ground and then sit on the stump. Jason follows, sitting on the other side so that we’re back to back. I lean against him and he presses against me so that we’re supporting one another’s weight.
‘Was it because of me?’ I ask.
‘What?’
‘The fire, the trouble… was that all because we broke up?’
I feel his chest rising through his back. ‘What do you want me to say?’
‘That it’s not my fault.’
He says nothing. One second. Two. Three. It’s enough.
I slump forward a little, holding my head in my hands. It’s not news, I suppose. My boyfriend died and I rebounded onto his brother, who’d always had a crush on me. When I realised what I was doing and broke it off, he went off the rails – and ended up behind bars. Among all that, my best friend is their sister.
I’ve known for a long time how much of a mess that all is. With Jason in prison, I’ve been able to suppress it, to forget my own role in it all. It’s far more difficult to do that now. I sometimes think that what I did to Jason was the worst thing I ever did. I knew he had a crush on me. I was older and I let it happen.
‘I should’ve said no to you,’ I say. ‘The problem was that, after that first time, it was already too late. You were never going to be your brother. We were always going to break up.’
‘We didn’t have to.’
‘We did. You’d always remind me of him.’
There’s a cough that might be a sob. All of this is long overdue. It should have been said back then. The truth is, Jason and I never had anything in common. It’s not like we ever went out for meals, or cosy Sunday drives. We had no money. It was all cheap fags and booze. Everything between was physical. It made the pain of what happened with Wayne go away… even if it never lasted for long.
Jason’s not speaking but I can feel his spine rubbing against mine as he bobs up and down.
‘I didn’t think Ellie would ever talk to me again,’ I say. ‘She didn’t for a while. She was so angry at us – and then, after you were arrested, she started again.’
‘She had nobody else. You were like sisters. Of course she turned to you.’
He’s right – but she is actually his sister and he’s had to make do with sporadic visits while Ellie and I have carried on as normal without him.
‘Sorry.’
It’s the only word I can say. I mean it but it doesn’t feel like enough.
‘Don’t be. No one forced me to set fire to that pub.’
I feel his back tense, so stand and turn, looking down as his body straightens. His fists are balled tightly.
‘What?’ I say.
He doesn’t turn. ‘Sometimes I think about all the years I’ve lost.’
Perhaps it’s not what he says but the way he says it. There’s bubbling fury in his voice. A volcano that’s hissing and fizzing, ready to blow. He practically spits the words and, for a moment, a ripple of fear surges through me. Nobody knows we’re here and there’s likely no one anyone near us. My guilt has put me in this position and now I’m stuck. A vein in Jason’s neck bulges as he continues to squeeze his hands into coiled fists.
Can it be a coincidence that Jason’s release has coincided with that morning I woke up in a field? With things going missing or being moved in the house? Perhaps it’s not Dan at all, perhaps it’s Jason – although it still wouldn’t explain the stun gun in Dan’s locker.
‘You’ve got to stop hanging around the house,’ I say.
He doesn’t turn. ‘Okay.’
‘I’ll give you my phone number. If you want to talk, or if you need to ask something, call me. Or text. Everyone texts nowadays. The world’s different than it was when we were kids.’
He nods, still not turning around.
I take a step back towards the path, asking if he’s coming. For a moment, I think he’s going to stay where he is – but he doesn’t. He stands, head bowed, hands in pockets and traipses with me back to the car.
I wanted his forgiveness, but the truth is, with or without it, I don’t forgive myself. I swapped one brother for another – and that’s one of those things a person simply doesn’t do.
And then there’s what I did to Wayne.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Saturday
The bed in the spare room is so comfortable that I have no idea why I didn’t start sleeping in here months or years before. I suppose it was the stigma of separate bedrooms – but it’s fantastic. I wrap myself around the pillow: one arm under, one over, then spread out and close my eyes. There are no errant limbs crossing the invisible no man’s land along the centre of the bed. No invading forces to repel. No grunts and snores in the middle of the night – or, if there are, they belong to me and nobody else cares. It’s a whole new world. Why did anyone ever decide that couples needed to sleep – actually sleep – together?
I expect to dream of Dan and Jason, of unexplained guns, of steering wheels, blood, cloudy nights and shadowed fields. It’s only when I wake up the next morning that I realise hours have passed. My arm is dead from barely moving but the fuzz has cleared from my thoughts and I finally feel alert.
I shower, dress and head downstairs. Dan is on the sofa and snaps the laptop lid closed as I cross to the kitchen. Not much point in asking what he was looking at.
‘I can move out in two weeks,’ he says.
His words stop me dead, still a pace or two from the kettle.
‘Sorry?’
‘Two weeks,’ he repeats. ‘I got an email from the landlord overnight. The old tenants are moving out early because they’re buying a place. One minute the sale was on, then it was off, now it’s back on again. You know what these things can be like: nothing happens for months and then it’s all go.’
I quickly recompose myself, or attempt to give that impression at least. I touch the side of the kettle and it’s warm, so I start to make myself a cup of tea.
‘That’s a bit quicker than we thought,’ I say.
‘True – but that’s not a problem, is it?’
‘No, but I suppose we’ve not really talked everything through in regards to money and the house…’
Dan waits as I fill the mug with water, drop a teabag in and then give it a swish and a squeeze with a spoon. Traditionalists would blow a gasket at the spoon usage.