The Moment You Were Gone
Page 38
She saw them out, then returned to the room. Polly was sitting on the sofa now, her head on Jo’s shoulder, as though she was about to fall asleep. Stefan was talking to his new friend, who had her arm through his and looked entirely comfortable.
‘Excuse me,’ a tentative voice said behind her.
She turned. ‘Sonia. Hello.’
‘I met you, didn’t I? I’m not dreaming. You were the woman in the café.’
‘That’s right. Forgive me.’
‘Forgive you? What for?’
‘I trampled over everything.’
‘You made all this happen.’
‘In a way.’
‘I think you’re brave and amazing.’
‘That’s a very generous thing to say.’
‘It’s true.’
For a moment, Gaby stared at the girl – Connor’s daughter, Ethan’s sister, the girl she had never had – and couldn’t speak. Then she smiled. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I appreciate that.’
‘Oh, well –’
‘And, Sonia?’
‘Mm?’
‘I’m very glad you’re here.’
There were tears in the girl’s eyes. ‘Really? You mean that?’
‘Yes. I do.’
Nancy approached her as Sonia turned away.
‘Thanks for coming,’ Gaby said to her. ‘I know you probably think it was an insane idea.’
‘Of course it was. I expect no less. I think we were all very obedient, don’t you?’
‘Unexpectedly so.’
‘And courageous.’
‘Was it so awful?’
‘No, not awful. It was – actually, it was almost unbearable.’
‘Oh.’
‘I mean that in a good way.’
‘Good?’
‘Because we all bore it, didn’t we?’
‘I guess we did. Yes, we all bore it.’
Now Ethan and Lorna were standing beside her. He put his arm round her shoulders. ‘Are you OK?’ he asked.
‘Me? Fine.’
‘Really OK? About everything?’
‘Really OK about everything. I promise. How about you?’
‘This must be the very weirdest evening of my entire life and I’ve known some weird ones. But I’m fine. We’re fine. Aren’t we?’ He looked at Lorna.
‘Yes, we are,’ Lorna said. ‘We’re just fine.’
Gaby saw their hands touch; their fingers curled together. She smiled. ‘How did you two meet, anyway?’ she asked them.
‘I saw her,’ said Ethan, joyfully, ready to tell anyone. ‘I saw her walking along a street at night and I fell in love with her on the spot. Long before I met her or knew her name, I was smitten.’
‘How romantic.’
‘What about you and your husband?’ asked Lorna, shyly.
‘How did we meet?’ asked Gaby, smiling into the young face in front of her. ‘Ah, well, it was all a bit dramatic. We met by an accident.’
‘By accident?’
‘By an accident. I remember it as clearly as if it happened yesterday.’
‘Go on, then,’ said Ethan, resignedly; he had heard it all many times before.
‘It’s a long story, for another place and time.’
Ethan and Lorna moved away, still holding hands, and Gaby stood on her own, sipping her wine. It was a long story and it had happened a long time ago, but she found herself thinking of it now and remembering the young woman she had been then, the future unfurling before her; the young man she had met in a sunken lane by the smoking wreckage of a car. Now Connor glanced up and gave the small smile, almost invisible, that he reserved for her. She looked around at the figures before her. Her life was in this room, the people she loved and who loved her. She pressed one hand against the bruise of her heart.
Behind her she heard a few notes from the piano and turned. Ethan was sitting on the stool, letting his hands drift across the keys while Lorna, Sonia and Goldie stood round him.
‘Play a Christmas carol,’ called Jo, boisterously.
‘“We Three Kings”,’ said Phoebe. ‘That’s my favourite. I can play it on my recorder.’
Ethan started to play. Stefan, from the other side of the room, began to sing with the theatrical unselfconsciousness of the shy, and one by one everyone joined in, even Connor, or perhaps he was just mouthing the words – Gaby couldn’t tell from where she stood. Soon they were in a circle round the piano, all singing ‘Silent Night’, ‘Once in Royal David’s City’ and ‘O Come, All Ye Faithful’, while the candles threw a soft, guttering light over the scene. All except Gaby who stood back and watched them.
‘“In the Bleak Midwinter”,’ said Nancy. ‘That’s beautiful.’
As Ethan played, Gaby slipped unseen from the room. Their ragged, lusty voices followed her down the hall and through the front door. Outside it was cold, dark, clear. She gazed up at the sky and the brilliant stars. At the moon, which lay low and large on the horizon, shining down on her and bathing her in its mysterious light. She turned back to the house. Through the uncurtained window, she could see the Christmas tree and, beyond that, the group of people singing. Their mouths were open and their heads tipped back. Firelight and candlelight lit their faces. They were beautiful to her, timeless, and tears came to her eyes.
She didn’t know how long she stood like that, watching them. A thought came into her mind and she held it there: she could leave now, simply walk down the road away from them all and never come back. Then she took a deep breath and made her way slowly towards her home. She pushed the front door quietly and went into the warm, crowded room. She opened her mouth to join in the singing, and nobody had even noticed that she had been gone, or saw that now she had returned, to be with them once more.
P.S.
This is the last time I’m going to write in here. For a while I needed to pour out my feelings – to the mother I had never met, to the parents I had always had, to myself above all – but I don’t think I do any more. The urgency has died away, the frantic need to know and the fear of what I would discover. So what have I discovered? Not who I am. I don’t think one ever fully does that. Maybe something about love: Mum and Dad have loved me without ever asking for anything in return; they loved me so much they were even willing to let me go. Perhaps one day I can be a parent like that. That’s what you do with love, you hand it on. You receive love and you give it, and stronger than genes, thicker than blood, it binds us and it sets us free. That’s what I believe, anyway.
So I guess this is the end. Although it’s never really the end, is it? Just, the words stop.
THE BEGINNING
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PENGUIN BOOKS
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First published 2007
Copyright © Nicci Gerrard, 2007
The moral right of the author has been asserted
‘First Day of My Life’, Lyrics by Conor Oberst, © Bedrooms, Bedrooms and
Spiders/Sony/ATV Songs LLC. All rights reserved
‘You’re Just in Love’, Words & Music by Irving Berlin, © 1950 Irving Berlin Music Corp.
All rights administered by Warner/Chappell Music Ltd, London W6 8BS. Reproduced by permission.
All rights reserved
ISBN: 978-0-141-90048-3