Liz grabbed a glass and filled it. I drank it down in one go and then held the glass out for a refill. Liz duly obliged, then sat on the other side of the kitchen island, looking worried.
‘I’m fine now. Thanks for the water. Is it hot in here or is it me?’ I flapped the neck of my shirt, trying to waft cool air down my front. My chest felt so tight. What the heck was wrong with me? Liz picked up a newspaper and flapped it in my direction; that was actually more annoying than helpful, so I reached out and held her arm. I stayed like that for a few minutes, holding onto Liz’s arm and trying to take deep breaths. Eventually I started to feel better.
‘It’s fine. I’m fine now.’
‘Are you sure?’ Liz examined my face closely.
‘I’m sure. It’s happened a few times in the last couple of weeks. I get this horrible panicky feeling and then I feel faint. The room starts to spin, and I can’t stop it.’
‘Sounds like an anxiety attack, my darling. It’s not surprising, considering everything that’s happened recently. It’s been very stressful for you.’
‘I guess so. I thought I was coping all right with everything but maybe not.’
‘It’s a lot to come to terms with, all these revelations about your family. As well as everything you’re feeling about Jack.’
‘He’s the least of my worries.’
‘Is he? I’d say he’s one of the more significant ones.’
‘Don’t be daft. He’s just a bloke. I’m not a fucking teenager, dealing with my first crush,’ I snapped.
‘No, you’re a grown woman who’s spent so long protecting herself from the risk of having her heart broken that you don’t know how to do anything else. And the fact that all that might be about to change, quite frankly, scares you shitless! Cheers!’ Liz downed the rest of her wine in one go and slammed the empty glass down onto the counter. I got the very obvious sense that I’d just been told off.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout at you, but someone has to get you to see what’s going on,’ said Liz.
‘Thanks.’ I went back to sipping my water and Liz returned to her spot by the stove. I didn’t know where to take our conversation next. Thankfully I was saved from further awkwardness by the arrival of David, Liz’s husband.
‘Right, ladies, I’ve kept out of the kitchen up to this point, but I cannot wait any longer. I’m bloody starving. I need feeding.’ He went over to Liz and peered over the pan she was stirring. ‘That smells good. When’s dinner? Are you staying for dinner, Abby?’
‘Of course, she is,’ announced Liz. ‘Get your fingers out of my sauce and go and lay the table.’
‘Yes, sir!’ David gave her a little salute, before grabbing cutlery and glasses and moving over to the dining table on the other side of the open-plan kitchen. As I watched the two of them, so familiar and comfortable together, I felt a pang of something like envy. They had each other; even when their kids grew up and left home, they’d still have each other. I took another mouthful of water in an attempt to try and swallow down the sudden lump in my throat; I felt so empty and alone. I discreetly wiped away a rogue tear, praying that no one had seen me, but no such luck. David came and draped his arm across my shoulders.
‘Now, what’s all this? Why the tears?’
‘It’s nothing, I’m being stupid.’
‘Who’s upset you? Do I need to go and rough someone up a bit for you?’ He nudged my shoulder.
‘No offence, darling husband of mine, but I don’t think “roughing” people up is really your thing. You’re an accountant, darling.’ Liz kissed him on the cheek and David laughed.
‘You’re probably right. I’ll go back to folding napkins, then. Chin up, old girl, things are never as bad as they seem.’
I nodded and wiped away more tears.
‘Why don’t you just call him?’ said Liz, handing me a tissue.
‘I don’t know what I’d say. Maybe it was just sex, maybe it didn’t mean anything.’
‘He told you he was in love with you, didn’t he?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘No buts. I don’t know him that well, but he doesn’t strike me as a man who says things he doesn’t mean.’
‘Maybe. But I’m not going to call him.’
Liz held up her hands. ‘Fine. Let’s just get on with our dinner, then, shall we?’
I know I must have answered her, but I can’t remember what I said. In fact, I can’t remember much of anything about our conversation for the rest of the evening. My mind was elsewhere. Occasionally David and Liz would exchange worried glances when I didn’t answer a question they’d asked me, but I wasn’t really bothered. I stayed there just long enough to eat the food that Liz had prepared and then I made my excuses and left.
*
I didn’t go home after I left Liz’s; I drove past my flat and ended up outside my mum’s old house instead. It felt like the safest place for me to be right then. Who was I kidding? I was hiding. I needed to be somewhere that Jack couldn’t get to me. Jack bloody Chance, with his dreamy smile and awesome body. Jack and his uncanny ability to turn my peaceful existence into a fucking emotional train wreck. God, I felt like such a fool. I’d let my guard down, against my better judgement, and look what had happened.
Letting myself into the house, I was calmed by the silence. The storm raging inside my head was quietened momentarily by an all-enveloping cloud of stillness that was almost physical. I could feel it wrap itself around me and hold me there as I leaned heavily on the door behind me. I breathed in deeply. The once familiar smell of the house had been replaced by a musty, stagnant odour, that reminded me this was no longer a family home. It was just a house that held some furniture and a few memories, and soon it would belong to someone else. I pushed myself away from the door, dropped my bag by the hallstand and walked down the narrow passageway to the kitchen.
I flicked on the light and then stood like a fool, in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do next. You should call Jack, said my inner devil. No, you shouldn’t, countered the angel on my shoulder. I spied some empty boxes by the back door; Matt had told me he’d started bringing them over to pack Mum’s things in. This was the perfect exercise in procrastination. There was a stack of old newspapers in one of the boxes so I started to carefully wrap each cup and plate, as if they were priceless antiques to be preserved rather than Mum’s old chipped everyday china.
Within about half an hour I’d emptied all the crockery cupboards, only leaving out a few stained mugs and the teapot, just in case. I moved across to the tall cupboard she’d used as a pantry and began emptying the contents of that into some black rubbish bags I’d found under the sink. I was like a woman possessed, throwing away packets and tins. Halfway through, when I’d filled a whole bag with food, I stopped and wondered guiltily if I should have been giving this stuff away to neighbours or the nearby food bank, but the idea that I’d have to leave the house to do it soon put an end to any more thoughts like that. I didn’t want to go out. I didn’t want to see anyone and, more importantly, I didn’t want anyone to see me.
I spent another half an hour or so clearing, wrapping and packing boxes. After the larder was empty, save for a lone packet of digestive biscuits and some pasta, I moved over to the drawers by the sink. Opening the first one, I saw cutlery and utensils; I picked them up by the handful and dumped them into a nearby box. The crash they made as they hit the bottom was almost deafening in the quiet of the house, but it was strangely satisfying. I took it as a symbol of progress and moving forward; I was obviously desperate to find some positives in my current situation. Sad but true. The next drawer was the one Mum always referred to as her ‘crap’ drawer, full of bits and pieces that were essentially just rubbish. Old biros, keys for long-forgotten doors, bits of string of random lengths and fuses; they all languished in the drawer until the day they were needed. That day never came for most of the stuff in there, but it hadn’t seemed to bother Mum.
I was tempted to pull t
he whole thing out and tip the contents, unchecked, into the nearest bin bag but something stopped me – it was an envelope with my name on it, the one that I’d found just after Mum died; the night I’d drunk-dialled Jack and he’d stormed out of my life. I’d thrown it back in the drawer, not wanting to take the chance that it might contain more interesting secrets about my family. I couldn’t believe that I’d forgotten about it. Mind you, I had had quite a lot going on. Now there it was again, the stained envelope held shut by sticky tape, with the words ‘For Abigail’ scrawled on the front. I took it over to the kitchen table and sat down. I tore off the sticky tape and opened it, surprised to find that there were three more envelopes inside. They were all stamped and addressed to me but the writing on them didn’t belong to my mum – it was Jack’s.
Chapter 25
My hands shook as I held the letters. The postmarks had long since faded but I didn’t need them; these were the letters Jack had said he wrote to me after he left. For the last twenty years they’d been sitting in the bottom of this drawer. How had I never seen them before? How many times had I scratched around in this drawer, looking for a pen to write a shopping list or a battery to stick in the plastic kitchen clock that hung above the table?
I tore open the top one on the pile; the date was for a week after Jack left, the numbers written in Jack’s childish hand. I wanted to read them in the right order, so I checked the dates on the other two. Opening them, I saw that one was sent three months later, the other only a month. I felt scared; it was all so long ago, what did it really matter what they said? But the perverse part of me, the part that enjoyed torturing itself, took over and I started to read.
Dear Abigail,
I’m hoping you get this letter soon. I’ve had to leave. Something to do with Dad’s new job at a bank up north. We’re going to stay with some of Mum’s cousins in Glasgow, I think. I’m not supposed to tell you any of this but I don’t know why. I’ve never met any of this side of my family before. I’m a bit scared to be honest. I wish I’d been allowed to come and see you before we left but Mum said I couldn’t. She said we didn’t have time. She’s been really moody for the last few weeks so I didn’t argue. But now I wish I had because I know you’re going to be worried about me. I’m fine. I don’t care what Mum says I’m going to ring and tell you where I am just as soon as I know what our new address and phone number are going to be. I miss you already.
Love Jack xx
I clapped my hand across my mouth to stifle the sob; his childish confusion at being dragged away from his home came across so clearly it made me ache inside. The next letter was dated a month later.
Dear Abigail,
I don’t know what’s going on. Mum and Dad have both told me that I’m not allowed to get in touch with anyone we used to know but they won’t tell me why. They just keep saying that they’ll explain it to me when I get older! I think maybe Dad has done something awful and that’s why we’ve had to move away. Our new flat is nice but I don’t fit in here, I want to come home but every time I say something Mum just screams at me to shut up. Dad looks really stressed out, I don’t want him to feel bad about all of this so I don’t say anything in front of him. I hope you’re all right, I really miss you, I wish I could phone you but I’m worried I’m going to ruin everything if I don’t do as Mum tells me and stay away. If my dad has done something bad I would hate to drag you and your family into it too. But I want to know that you’re okay and that you don’t hate me for disappearing. I’ve included an address at the top this letter so you can just write back and let me know how you are. It’s not my address – my new mate from school, Chris, said I could use his so I don’t get into trouble for letting on where we are.
Love Jack xx
My heart was breaking, but I couldn’t stop now. I had one letter left; it was dated three months after Jack and his family moved away. This one was short and to the point.
When you didn’t reply to my letter I sneaked down to the phone box and called your house. Your nan answered and told me that you didn’t want to talk to me and that I shouldn’t get in touch again. I don’t understand. I told you that I didn’t want to leave you. It wasn’t my fault. Your nan said that you were angry and didn’t want me to keep in touch anymore. I’m sorry you feel like that. I don’t want to upset you so this will be my last letter unless I hear from you. I never wanted to hurt you, you are my best friend and I will always miss you.
Jack
‘Of course I didn’t reply!’ I screamed at the letter in my hand. ‘I never saw your letters. I never saw anything because I was a stupid fucking child! Stupid! I didn’t know anything!’ I swept all the letters and envelopes onto the floor and started to cry uncontrollably. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t see, all I could do was feel; the pain of everything that had happened, past and present, was transforming itself into a physical ache that was taking over my entire body. Everything hurt, my lungs were burning, my arms and legs felt as if they were being jabbed with a thousand needles and my brain was trying to force its way out through my eye sockets. I couldn’t move from the chair. I gripped the seat until my knuckles turned white, trying to hold on until the tidal wave of pain stopped. Through blurry eyes, I saw a figure running down the hallway towards me and calling my name.
‘Fucking hell, Abs, what’s going on? Are you all right? Abby, look at me, say something!’
It was my brother; I felt his arms holding me tight.
‘Can’t… breathe… hurts… won’t stop…’ I managed. He let me go and grabbed his phone from his pocket.
‘I’m calling an ambulance, Abby, I don’t know what to do…’
The mention of an ambulance was like a slap in the face; I didn’t want an ambulance.
‘No, stop, wait… I’ll be fine.’ I took deep breaths, trying to calm my racing pulse. Matt knelt in front of me and took my hands, helping me get my breath.
‘That’s it, Abs, good girl, in and out, just like that.’
Gradually my breathing returned to normal and the pain in my body started to subside. Matt brought me a mug of water. ‘Here, drink it slowly.’
He looked as white as a sheet. I must have scared him half to death.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out.’
‘I thought you were having a bloody stroke or something! Your face was all twisted up, like you were in agony, and you couldn’t focus your eyes properly! Jesus!’ He let out a huge sigh and flopped down into the chair opposite. ‘Drink,’ he ordered and gestured to the mug in my hands. I sipped the water.
‘I couldn’t seem to stop it. I was in so much pain.’
‘What started it off?’
I gestured to the letters on the floor. ‘Those.’
‘What are they?’ he asked, kneeling to pick them up.
‘Letters from Jack. He wrote to me after he left but no one ever gave them to me.’
Matt started to read. ‘What a fucking mess,’ he said, eventually.
‘That could be the title of my autobiography, couldn’t it?’
‘What are you going to do now? You should tell him that you’ve read these.’
‘What for? It’s past – no point going over it all now.’ I decided it was best I didn’t share the fact that Jack had slept with me and then buggered off – there were some things that a big brother didn’t need to know.
Matt gave a me a serious look. ‘You should talk to Jack, Abby.’
‘I know, I know. But not right now. I need time to think.’
Matt nodded and it was then I noticed the fresh bruise below his eye.
‘What happened to you?’ I leaned closer to get a better look.
‘It’s nothing, Abs, don’t fuss.’
‘Who did it?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
I reached out to touch his face but he pulled away, wincing in pain.
‘Jesus, Matt, what happened?’
‘I had a visit from Egan and a couple of his cronies. Nothing I can’t
handle.’
‘This is about that missing money? I thought you said that Egan had dropped all that. He’s not stupid enough to think we have that sort of cash.’
Matt shook his head. ‘I thought I’d convinced him but apparently not. He must be desperate if he’s still hanging about round here. It’s a bit of a risk.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Technically he’s still a wanted man. The police never caught up with him back then, but they could arrest him if they found him here now.’
‘Let’s go to the police, then. Show them your face, tell them where he is.’
Matt shook his head. ‘We can’t, Abs. It’ll stir up all kinds of stuff that’s best left alone. It’ll be fine. I’ll get it sorted.’
A thought suddenly occurred to me. ‘Does he know that he’s your real dad?’
‘Dunno. I don’t think so, but I can’t be sure.’
‘I don’t think he knows. Why would he threaten his own son?’ I said.
‘Egan used to beat the crap out of his other two boys. Why would he treat me any differently?’
‘What are we going to do, then?’
‘Nothing. Just leave it alone, Abs. It’ll sort itself out eventually.’
‘You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?’ I asked.
‘Me? Nah, not me, Abs. I’m too pretty for prison.’
‘Idiot,’ I mumbled.
Matt gave me a smile. ‘I’m sorry, Abby.’
‘Which particular bit are you sorry for?’
‘All of it. I’m sorry for all of it.’
‘I don’t want to fight with you about it. Not today. I don’t think I can take much more.’
‘Are you all right?’ Matt looked concerned.
‘I’m fine, just tired, that’s all. And there’s still so much to do here. Are you going to stay and help me pack up some stuff?’
‘Yeah, just gimme a bin bag and tell me what needs doing.’ He unravelled a bag from the roll and waited for instructions.
Secrets and Tea at Rosie Lee's Page 27