Probably the Best Kiss in the World

by Pernille Hughes

  “Because if you can’t Jen, if you refuse to let me live my life without trying to influence it, I’ll never be able to fully live,” Lydia gasped out with huge bone-shaking sobs, “I’ll be doing it to defy you and I want to do it properly for myself, because this is who I am, and so I can be who Mum and Dad wanted me to be and so, one day, just maybe, I can forgive myself for causing their deaths.”

  Chapter 37

  “What are you talking about?!” Jen gaped at her sister, who was holding her body, wracked with sobs. This had to be shock setting in, surely, but what was that she’d said? “Lydia, you are not responsible for them dying.” Jen was baffled. Lydia had had counselling after the accident, they’d signed her off. They hadn’t mentioned anything about these feelings.

  Lydia was shaking her head violently. “I am. I made them take me shopping that day. I was being a brat. You were getting all the attention with your new job, and I wanted some. So I insisted we stop in town for a new gymnastics leotard. We’d just come out of the shop with it, where I’d been deliberately umming and ahhing about some others. If I’d just got the one I’d liked straight off, we wouldn’t have been outside when the lorry came.” Lydia had never told her any of this.

  Jen got out of the car. The air was balmy again and Jen could hear the hubbub from town. They were ahead of the Friday night A&E crowd at least. Jen headed directly around to the passenger door, yanked it open and pulled her sobbing sister into a hug. Lydia hung on her, and Jen let her continue until she was down to the laboured breathing.

  “Lyds, listen to me now. You are not to blame. It was just wrong place at the wrong time. Pure bad luck or fate, whatever you believe in. That’s how I’ve always seen it, that’s how I’ll always see it.”

  “But I made them–”

  “No. You aren’t to blame, Lydia,” she repeated slowly. “Mum and Dad were adults, they could have said no. It is possible to say no to Lydia, you know,” she said, holding Lydia’s face in her hands, so her sister would look her in the eyes and understand this properly. “I don’t blame you for this. I never have and I never will, and I don’t see who else could hold this against you other than me or you.” Doubt was beginning to cross Lydia’s face. “Really,” Jen nodded at her. “No blame. Honestly. Cross my heart.” Lydia gave a slow nod and a long snotty sniff. Lovely.

  “It wasn’t all bad luck,” Jen said. “I got to keep you. I prayed and begged and bargained with any power I could think of, to let me keep you.” Jen’s tears were rolling too now, partly at memory of those days and now for her guilt-ridden sister. “You pulling through was the most amazing thing, but it scared me so much because I’d been so helpless. You wouldn’t wake up for so long and all the while your leg got worse. There was nothing I could do. Your leg was a mess from the truck, but we might have managed. Then the bone infection set in and they couldn’t stop it. They said I could help you, but by signing off your leg. What kind of a choice was that? I felt even more helpless than before. I can’t think of a feeling I hate more than that.”

  “Jen, it was gangrene! If you hadn’t made that decision, I wouldn’t be here now,” Lydia said. “I don’t blame you for that. I know I howled when I saw my stump,” Jen shuddered at the memory; those screams, Lydia’s battling arms trying to get up and away from her, “but I was fourteen and scared. We both know it was the right thing to do. Jen, you weren’t out of control there, you were listening to specialists. You aren’t helpless if you defer to others when you need to. God Jen, when will you see that asking for or accepting help doesn’t make you weak. It doesn’t make you less in control. It makes you human, and it makes you smart, because you’re addressing your needs.” Not for the first time, Lydia’s words rang true with her. Wasn’t that what she’d just experienced with the brewery?

  Steadying her breathing, Jen thought back to the time in the hospital. “I did see I had to do it. It was awful, but I knew they were right, that I had to follow their advice. It was saving your life, wasn’t it? No brainer, right?” Jen managed a snotty teary laugh, aware that she was sounding like Ava. “And your shock and reaction was completely understandable. In the back of my head I knew that too.” Recent erroneous actions regarding Lydia notwithstanding, Jen knew she was and would always be a realist. She’d done what had to be done. Being honest, those weren’t the things she felt guilty about. “Only, afterward,” she went on, somewhat less sure of herself, “when we started to see what you couldn’t do anymore, like your gymnastics, or some crappy boyfriend dumped you because he ‘couldn’t deal’, well …” Jen wasn’t quite sure how to say it, “I worry that I ruined your life.”

  Lydia pulled her face back abruptly.

  “Wow, Jen, ableist much? I’ve got a good life, I’ll have you know. I’m educated, I work hard, I’ve got a good job and decent mates. So I’m missing a leg. I’m more than my leg, it doesn’t define me and the best people see that. All lives have challenges, this one just happens to be mine. And I’m OK with that. It’s part of who I am, it’s my reminder to live.”

  Jen stared at the leg for a moment. It had haunted her for years. And yet here they were, her sister a hero, as well as a rational adult, who not only valued the life she had, but actively sought to get the most from it. Why hadn’t she seen and supported that? Finally the cogs all rocked into place in Jen’s head. “I haven’t been ‘best people’, have I?”

  “Not recently, but maybe I could have handled it differently, talked to you about it.” They gave each other small weak smiles, conceding that communication might have been of benefit, but they were getting there now. Eventually, Lydia asked quietly, “and you really don’t blame me for Mum and Dad dying?”

  “No. Truly I don’t. Do you blame me for losing your leg?”

  “I didn’t and don’t blame you for signing off on my leg. Given what happened today, you did me a favour. Hanging around in that tree with a crushed leg would have been a bummer. Being able to detach mine was handy.” Lydia gazed at her for a long moment. “I think we both might need a little bit of help. Talk things through with someone?” Jen sniffed, her tears drying up now. Lydia could definitely need some counselling on the survivor’s guilt, and she might perhaps have some of her own issues that could do with airing.

  “You get it now though, Jen, don’t you? You are not responsible for me.” Lydia remained silent as Jen looked her sister from eye to eye and back and nodded her assent.

  Lydia scanned the car park. Following her eye, Jen saw Neil a little way off, leaning against his bike, giving them space. He instantly went up in her ratings.

  “He’s seems a nice guy,” Jen said. The air now cleared between them, the roots of their issues having been addressed, Jen was feeling far calmer.

  “He completely is,” Lydia agreed with a soppy grin. “He’ll keep an eye on me when we’re away. I got my international gig.”

  It was a punch to the gut. “Wait, what? But we’re friends again, Lyds, there’s no need to make a point by leaving,” Jen spluttered.

  “Jen, it’s not me making a point,” Lydia said kindly, aware of Jen’s obvious distress, “It’s me living and having an adventure. It isn’t to spite you, I promise. I think we both need me to do this. We need to reset ourselves to who we should have been before the accident.”

  The panic was building in Jen’s chest, and much as she tried to quell it, she wanted to shout ‘Don’t leave me’. The last six weeks had been hellish. Had it not been for building the brewery she would have gone batshit crazy. “Where are you going?”

  “All over. I’ll do my two years in Singapore and then the world is our oyster. He wants to be a travel writer, so he’ll freelance while I qualify and we’ll take every holiday I’ve got until then and we’ll run a blog as we go. I’m going to judge how disability-friendly places are. I don’t know when we’ll be back, or where we’ll settle. The jobs are kind of transferable or mobile, in his case.” Jen was trying so hard to control her breathing, but failing miserably. Thank god they
were just outside A&E.

  Lydia put her hands on Jen’s shoulders and held her gaze. “We both need this Jen. You put your life on hold for me and it’s just beginning to start again. I promise it’ll be OK. I’ll be much, much better at keeping in touch. You’ll be sick of me Skyping you.” Jen couldn’t imagine that for a second. A big fat tear broke over her eyelid and made a bid for freedom. Lydia wiped it off her cheek. “You might not see it now, but you need me to go, so you can get your own shit together. Alice says the brewery looks amazing, but you haven’t sorted out your fuck up with Jakob.”

  Oh, why did she have to bring him up? No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t pack him away out of her mind. Every night she’d wanted to tell him everything she’d done that day on the beer and every night she went to sleep sad that she couldn’t and hadn’t. And somewhere along the line a little voice had begun to whisper, then shout, that she’d made a ginormic mistake. That who he was to the world didn’t matter, whereas who he was to her, did.

  Just. Like. He’d. Said.

  And maybe, rather than punish him for not daring to chase his own dream, she could have encouraged him, just like he had her. It might have been very special to have joined him following his passion.

  It made a sob bubble out of her.

  He was the best person she’d met in years, she told herself, all the regret now tumbling over her. She loved her brewery, she truly did, but she’d love it more if she’d been able to share the experience with him. She already felt he’d helped her build it. Lydia’s fingers were getting busy on her face now, trying to staunch the torrent of tears.

  “Jen,” Lydia said softly, like she was a child in need of solace, “I know you think you don’t know him. But, of course, you know him. In your heart you know him – you had a connection. You’ve got a lifetime to get to know him – or check him out and decide no – but give it a proper chance. There’s chemistry and the shared interest and I’m not just talking about people liking the same band or something. You knew everything there was to know about Robert, but you didn’t have any of the other things. You didn’t love him. At least with Jakob it’s the right way around, you have the emotions, and the knowledge can follow.”

  “You think I love him?” Jen sniffed. Did she? Was that what this consuming obsession was?

  Lydia smacked her palm off her forehead, which Jen was pretty sure she shouldn’t be doing with a possible concussion. “Jen, for someone with a first class degree you can be phenomenally stupid. You’ve been in love with him since Copenhagen.”

  Oh. Hearing it didn’t make her instantly want to deny it or call it ridiculous. The words actually gave her a deep-seated sense of contentment. She did love him. She did.

  Only she’d sent him packing. She looked at Lydia looking back at her, her sister’s expression hopeful this could all be sorted. But Jen was a realist and knew the truth. She’d screwed it up good and proper. But negativity wasn’t what Lydia needed right now.

  “We need to get your head looked at,” Jen said, now keen to get this part sorted so she could drive home and curl up in bed to cry.

  When Jen had been little and impatient for a brew to finish, her dad had always told her Magic comes at a cost. She was beginning to understand him now. Good things in life came at a price; she got her brewing dream, but she had to lose Jakob; she could find Lydia alive, but she had to let her go. Or maybe losing Lydia to her travels was the cost of having her new business. Whichever, it was heart-breaking, and she needed to hide from it.

  “Neil’ll help me with my head,” Lydia said, sliding down from the seat. Neil pushed himself off his bike and came towards them. He looked pleased to see Lydia, but fairly scared of Jen.

  Lydia held out a hand to him, unable, on one-legged grounds, to move from her propped position at the Bongo. He’d have to carry her.

  “I can–” Jen started.

  “We’ve got this,” Lydia said, with a gentle but firm tone.

  It felt like a test.

  With a nod, Jen stepped back to let Neil past her. “Fine. But promise you’ll get a cab home. No motorbiking. That’s just common sense, not me being controlling.”

  “Done. Now bugger off and tinker with a valve or steep some wort or something –” Lydia cut herself off, with a look of horror. “The opening. That’s now!”

  “It’s fine,” said Jen, only just remembering herself and slightly gutted her crying-in-bed plan just got nixed. “I have a troupe of helpers handling it.” It didn’t hurt too much saying it; she’d thought it would be like shards on her tongue.

  “Nooo,” wailed Lydia, the most panicked she’d been all evening, “No, it’s not fine.” She pushed Jen to get back in the car. “You have to go. Be there. Now! Or you’ll ruin everything.”

  Chapter 38

  It had gone brilliantly. Or so they said. It had definitely gone by the time Jen pulled up in the Bongo, the last of the customers leaving, bottle bags in hand. Being a shop, the opening hours only stretched from noon until ten o’clock, which Jen had thought was an absolute win, but tonight, she wished it could have gone on longer, so she could have been part of it for a moment. She hadn’t got to sell a single pint.

  Standing in the doorway, wrapped in the scents of a party; the notes of beer, perfume and aftershave mingling with the balmy night outside, Jen watched Jim and Alice clear things away, while Max counted the takings, and had a surreal notion of being superfluous to the action. They’d managed it without her. Nothing, so far as she could see, had come crashing down, and they weren’t sobbing, broken beings.

  Sensing she was being watched, Alice flicked her head up, then dropped her broom and hurried over.

  “Jen? What happened?”

  “She’s fine,” Jen confirmed and winched on a smile to reassure Alice. “The instructor had a seizure, but Lydia navigated them down. They’re both going to be OK.”

  Alice dragged her over to the bar, placed her on a stool, then poured her a glass of Heartsong, while Jen gave them a brief rundown of events.

  “They couldn’t get enough of that one,” said Jim, nodding at her beer as he made to leave. “You’re already running low.”

  Jen squeezed his arm. “Couldn’t have done it without you, Jim. Things went a bit haywire there.”

  “Can’t plan for everything, can you, luv? Some things you just have to take as you find.” He mopped his brow with the back of his hand. “Nothing’s perfect at first, but it can still be worth the effort and I reckon you’ve got a winner here.” Jen was pleased with his praise, but his words resonated more with her than perhaps he knew.

  “Let’s hope so. How did your beer go?” Jim looked quite made-up.

  “I need to put on another batch, if you want a full month’s supply. Night, luv.” He looked quite invigorated by his evening away from the allotment and there was no trace of the scowl she was used to getting at the shows.

  Sipping her beer – oh man it tasted good and bloody hell did she need it – Jen took a surreptitious look around. With Jim gone, there was definitely only three of them in the building, no one else.

  Alice held court with her account of how successful the night had been with a steady stream of excited customers and she was particularly proud of herself for having bravely approached both Robert and Celia about the floristry accounts at the golf and bridge clubs. They needed prize and raffle bouquets all the time. She now had some business proposals to pull together. As Jen finished praising her, Max confessed Alice might have also signed all three of them up for bridge lessons as goodwill. Ah nuts.

  Jen closed her eyes and leaned back, purportedly savouring her beer in light of how the night had panned out. Alice and Max were tactful enough to let her get on with it. Really, she was keeping her eyes shut to alleviate the sting of further tears. She was officially an emotional mess now. Bridge lessons aside, the Lydia events and discussions had thrown her for a loop and missing the opening was a huge blow, which was only just catching up with her. But it was
nothing compared to the gut-wrenching disappointment she was experiencing because she’d got her hopes up for something entirely different.

  As Jen had got in the Bongo, Lydia had leaned in on the other side. “I sent Jakob my invite to the opening. Go, Jen. Don’t miss him. And don’t fuck it up.” Then she’d slammed the door and thrown herself into Neil’s arms.

  Caning the Bongo back through Westhampton, Jen had allowed herself – because she was a ridiculous fool – to imagine in some rom-com way that she’d arrive and there he’d be, either in an Attison’s apron helping out, already part of the furniture, or else standing waiting for her, spot-lit in the middle of the buzzing room. Only that wasn’t the case; the room was empty, she didn’t actually own a spotlight, and neither Alice nor Max had mentioned him being there.

  He hadn’t come.

  Jen cursed herself for having fallen prey to the stupid, stupid rom-com ideas. Life was not like that. She didn’t know how many times she had to say it.

  And Lydia needn’t worry about her fucking it up tonight. She’d done that weeks ago.

  Jen was contemplating curling up on one of the banquet seats in the inspection pits, the walk home seeming more than she had energy to manage today. It was a warm night, she’d be fine. She had a pile of fleece IKEA blankets piled somewhere, for outdoor use – she could use some of them. The arch was deserted now, the hum of the fermentation tanks, dishwasher and fridges her only company. She also wanted to leave a safe period of time for Lydia to get home. A&E had released her quickly, according to her text, no stitches required. Jen couldn’t handle listening to her and Neil going at it, as, knowing Lydia, they would be. Not tonight. It was only just gone midnight, but it felt like the wee hours. She’d give it another half hour to be safe.

  The workshop was clear and ready for the morning. She’d mopped the floor and the glasses could be re-stacked before opening at noon. Jen moved towards the backyard, killing time now. Alice had said the yard had been very popular with the punters, but then it had been exactly the right kind of evening for it.