by Emma Davies
‘Come on, love,’ she said. ‘I need you to hold my hand too.’
*
If she was being absolutely honest with herself, Hattie would have had to say that disappointment was the emotion that slightly got the upper hand. She had thought about it all the way home, even though she was dog-tired and most of her brain felt utterly scrambled. She understood her mum’s point of view perfectly, though; in fact, if it were her in that situation, she would have done the same. It was just that there was a part of Hattie that was always hopeful and open to possibility. There were two people out there somewhere, who desperately wanted to meet her mum, and therefore probably her too, and now she would never get the chance to know what they were like.
Replaying the last hour and a half in her mind, it was clear to Hattie that even by the time they got to Jules’s house, her mum had all but made up her mind not to meet her birth parents. Hattie had had a part to play in that; if it hadn’t been for her, and the things she had said tonight, her mum might have gone on believing that the woman she called Mum was a coward, and a selfish one at that. Instead, she finally understood why her adoption had been kept from her – that it had been an act of love from a mother to a daughter, and she didn’t need to think beyond that. In the end, it had seemed a simple decision; things were okay in their world right now and that’s the way they would stay.
Hattie pushed open her front door, relieved to hear only the soft sound of the TV from the living room. Poppy was obviously tucked up in bed and fast asleep and, as soon as Hattie had paid the babysitter, that’s right where she headed too.
It was only some twenty minutes later, as she drew back her duvet cover, that she realised with a start that her mobile phone had been switched off since the wedding rehearsal. The babysitter hadn’t mentioned it, but the thought that she would have been unreachable if her daughter had needed her filled her with guilt.
A series of beeps echoed through the room as she plugged her phone in to charge, and she automatically glanced down at the display, thinking that her mum or Jules perhaps were wishing her goodnight. Instead, she saw that she had missed three calls in the last two hours. She frowned as she quickly scanned the details, surprised as she noted the number. Why on earth would Jasper be calling her at this time of night?
Chapter Thirty-Three
It was bitterly cold, or maybe that was just the way Lia was feeling; she hadn’t felt warm for days. She pulled her cardigan around her and folded her arms across her chest. It didn’t seem to matter how many clothes she wore, and even the central heating made little difference. She frowned, wondering whether it was even on, but she really couldn’t be bothered to get off the sofa to check. She picked up the TV remote that was lying beside her and clicked off the television.
She had absolutely nothing to do. She was burying her mum tomorrow, but today still stretched ahead of her like a vast empty desert. She shook her head angrily. It wasn’t a desert at all, it was cold for goodness’ sake. It was… it was… she slapped her hands down on the cushions… all utterly pointless. Even her thoughts had been reduced to meaningless clichés.
The house was clean. She had watered the plants. The beds had been stripped and the washing hung in damp swathes over the banisters. She had chosen hymns, prayers and music and written down words to say. She had called people and told them her mother was dead. She had organised a buffet for people coming to the funeral and she had done everything that people had asked her to. Countless decisions over the flowers, the handles on the coffin, the number of people who would carry it, and the pattern that would go on the order of service. They were things she had no right and no desire to be thinking about, but finally, they were all done. Perhaps now people would stop talking at her. She laid her head back wearily on the sofa and closed her eyes.
It could have been anywhere between five minutes and three hours later that she became aware of the doorbell ringing. She was tempted not to answer it but she had tried that, and all that happened was that her phone started ringing instead – and when she ignored that, too, there were anxious taps on the window and shouts through the letter box. So many endless visits. Lucy had been the first, of course, followed by Hattie, and Gwen too. Jasper had called round once, but after she’d asked him to leave he’d resorted to sending Christopher to check up on her. After that, it was just Lucy who came, or Callum, or Hattie, or Lucy and Callum together. She got up with a sigh and went to answer the door.
Jasper looked awful. She had no idea what she, herself, looked like, but she didn’t think he had slept in days. It puzzled her at first, until she realised why.
‘Your family giving you a hard time, are they?’ she said. Usually a comment like this would have had Jasper’s head hanging from his shoulders, or at the very least his eyes grazing the floor, but to her surprise today all she saw was a slight tightening of his jaw line. His eyes remained on hers, their usual olive-green colour darkened with tiredness and something else she couldn’t quite discern…
‘Lia, I’ve never been anything other than honest with you so yes, they are giving me a hard time. So is my secretary, if you want to know, who is almost having a nervous breakdown on my behalf. That’s not, however, why I’m here. Can I come in?’
She stepped to one side.
‘Have you eaten today?’
Lia stared at him. She had done nothing but eat. Everyone who came made stuff, or brought stuff. Sandwiches, soup, casseroles, and tea, endless cups of tea.
‘Yes,’ she replied wearily, ‘I’ve had—’
‘Only I didn’t think Lucy or Hattie had been round yet today.’
How on earth did he know that? She looked at her watch, trying to work out what day it was. She really couldn’t remember whether she had seen anyone or not, but it was only eleven so she supposed she couldn’t have. Besides, what difference did that make? She was perfectly capable of getting herself something to eat and drink. She opened her mouth to reply but Jasper had already moved past her down the hallway. She shut the front door with a bang.
The kitchen was just how she had left it, spotless, and she glared at Jasper as he plucked a loaf of bread from the side and started to cut huge doorsteps from it. He rammed the bread into the toaster and flicked the switch on the kettle with his other hand. He was obviously in a hurry.
‘Jasper, I can do that for myself, you know, and you clearly have somewhere else you need to be. Despite the fact that you’ve been checking up on me every two minutes, I am capable of looking after myself. I also asked you not to come here, so why don’t you do us both a favour and leave? Because I don’t think I can cope with you banging around my kitchen.’ She placed her hands on her hips. ‘I can’t cope with your anger,’ she added. ‘Or your pity.’
He whirled around to face her, eyes blazing, and she flinched, waiting for the explosion of rage that was about to come her way. Instead, just when she thought she couldn’t hold her breath any longer, he lurched past her and strode down the hall. She realised a second too late that this wasn’t what she wanted at all, and the tide of sorrow that hit her almost took her feet out from under her. She grabbed onto the back of a chair to steady herself, the tears that were never far from the surface already pouring down her face. She braced herself for the slam of the front door as Jasper left and the knowledge that she had lost him for good, but her heart was pounding in her chest and she struggled to hear over the roaring that filled her ears. She lifted her head slightly.
‘I couldn’t go,’ said Jasper, leaning against the door frame, his own eyes filled with tears at the sight of her. ‘A part of me wanted to. I probably should have, but I couldn’t.’
He moved forward until he was standing beside her, his arms dangling by his sides. ‘I don’t know what you want from me,’ he said. ‘I wish I knew. You infuriate me at times, but I can’t leave you. Every minute I’m apart from you it’s like there’s this deep, dark hollow inside, and I so desperately want to stay with you, Lia. Don’t make me go.’
> She could see one of his arms twitching and she knew it wouldn’t take much to have them both surround her, taking away her pain. She took a step towards him, her hand outstretched. ‘I won’t,’ she managed, ‘I don’t know what I want from you either, except to be here.’
Seconds later his hands were in her hair, his mouth grazing her cheek. ‘We’ll work it out,’ he murmured, ‘I promise.’ Behind them the toaster popped with a satisfying clunk that neither of them heard.
*
Jasper scraped the last of the jam out of the jar and spread it onto the slices of toast that already dripped with butter.
‘Now I feel guilty,’ said Lia. ‘I know you need to be anywhere but here.’
Jasper gave her an exasperated look. ‘It’s true,’ he said. ‘I’ve cancelled two meetings to be with you, and I’m not sure my secretary is ever going to speak to me again. It’s a good job that Christmas is just around the corner so I can buy her an embarrassingly expensive present to make up for it.’ He finished making the toast and handed the plate to Lia. ‘However, much as I feel bad for dumping her in it when she’s really a very nice person, I actually don’t give a flying fuck about the meeting or the people I was meeting with.’ He gave her a stern look. ‘The same can’t be said about you.’
Lia bit into a thick slice of toast. It was honest to God the best thing she’d ever tasted, and she realised she was ravenous. She also realised something else.
‘I can’t dance, Jasper,’ she said in a rush. ‘At the ball, I mean. I know I said I would, but I can’t, not now.’
Jasper looked up. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘It’s okay.’
‘But it isn’t though, is it?’ she replied. ‘Not really.’
His eyes were still soft as they met hers. ‘I think my family have got used to me not holding with tradition. I’m leaving the firm; I guess in the end it doesn’t matter much how I go.’ He licked his lips. ‘There’ll still be a ball of course, and all the lavish celebrations that go with it – just not me performing the grand opening dance.’
‘And not me, either.’
‘No.’ He was quiet for a moment. ‘I’ve hired a kind of circus act thing instead. I’m not really sure what they do actually – human juggling or something.’
Lia smiled ruefully. ‘Your secretary organise that, did she?’ she said. ‘At great cost, no doubt. I’m surprised you managed to get anything so close to Christmas.’
‘Well, I expect she must have promised to sleep with the whole troupe. She’s very loyal, my secretary.’
He was teasing her, at least she hoped he was. ‘So, money really does buy you everything?’ she quipped in reply.
The smile dropped from his eyes. ‘Not everything,’ he said sombrely, ‘but it can dig you out of a hole when you need it to.’
Part of Lia wished she had one of those right now. Somewhere dark and bottomless she could climb into. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘Me too,’ replied Jasper, taking another bite of his toast. ‘I didn’t mean to fall in love with you, Lia,’ he added.
Lia’s breath caught in her throat. She took a shaky breath. ‘I didn’t mean to fall in love with you, either.’ There, she had said it. The fluttery words that had been dancing about her head for weeks were out, finally gone from her body. The relief was enormous. It was the first time she had ever said that to anyone – and she was inordinately pleased that it was to Jasper. The trouble was, she still didn’t know what she was going to do about it. And, by the look on his face, neither did he.
‘It was just meant to be the sort of transaction I deal with every day. A service, if you like.’ He studied her face. ‘I’m aware that sounds arrogant and uncaring,’ he said. ‘It’s not meant to. But that’s the way I’ve lived my life, Lia. It still is, to some extent. Perhaps it was part of the process; learning to be different again, learning to be me, but somewhere along the way, your smile and your laughter became a part of me.’ He was quiet again, struggling for the right words. ‘Actually, I think what did it, over everything, was your positivity. That ability you have to find joy in the simplest of things. I’ve never known that before, even up on the hill with the birds, I never knew that was what I felt until I was with you. It made me realise it’s something I never want to lose.’
Lia’s eyes filled with tears again. ‘And it made me realise what it is to share that joy with someone,’ she said softly. ‘But Jasper, I don’t know what kind of person I’m going to be when… when all of this is over. I can’t be the same, how can I? Everything I was before is gone. The way I was, with you, with everyone, belonged to the Lia who looked after her mum, but now that she’s not here any more, I’m going to have to find a new Lia. I’m just not sure how she’s going to turn out… or how long it’s going to take her before she knows what she is.’ She sniffed, reaching for the tissue that Jasper automatically handed her.
He nodded gently. ‘I can wait,’ he said, but Lia shook her head.
‘No, that’s not fair,’ she said. ‘Don’t make me promise.’
‘I won’t,’ he replied. ‘But I will wait.’
Lia had no answer for him this time.
They sat for a few silent moments until Jasper leaned forward slightly. ‘After tomorrow I won’t ask anything of you, but would you do something for me, one last time?’
Her nod was so slight she wondered at first whether he could even see it, but he drew her hand closer to him and she knew that he had.
‘You mustn’t be on your own tomorrow, or tonight. Will you let me stay? Look after you, be with you so that you won’t feel so alone?’
She smiled a grateful smile through her tears. ‘I’d like that,’ she said sadly.
*
She slept on the sofa for most of the afternoon, waking with a start around four, thick-headed and far too hot under the blanket she had pulled around her. At first, she had dozed with her head in Jasper’s lap. He said he didn’t mind but when she woke for the first time she insisted that she move, and now he sat quietly at the other end of the sofa, head bent, reading. She threw back the cover, which made him jump.
‘Ugh,’ she grumbled, ‘now I feel awful.’
He smiled. ‘A temporary feeling, it’ll pass. You look much better; the sleep will have done you good.’
She licked her lips. ‘My mouth feels like the inside of a cage.’
Her legs bounced as Jasper got up suddenly. ‘Too much information,’ he said with a grin. ‘I’ll go and put the kettle on.’
He was only gone about a minute before he returned. ‘I’ve had a better idea,’ he said. ‘I think we both could do with some fresh air. It’s relatively early, so why don’t we go for a walk? We can pop in somewhere for a drink too.’
Lia smothered a smile. ‘My coffee getting to you, is it?’ she teased. ‘Don’t bother to answer that,’ she added, remembering the look on his face as he tasted her instant offering. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the sofa, gently placing them on the ground as if testing their ability to hold her. After a moment she stood, wobbling slightly. ‘I’ll go and sort myself out,’ she grimaced. ‘I imagine I look rather less than lovely right now.’
She all but dragged herself up the stairs, her body not yet willing but her mind knowing that Jasper was right. She needed to get out of the house, and now that the idea had been put in her head she wondered why she hadn’t thought it for herself. She closed her eyes briefly as she passed her mum’s bedroom door, and carried on down the hallway.
The air outside was clean, untainted by emotion, and Lia sucked it gratefully into her lungs, feeling it spread through her like a cooling balm. Jasper took her hand as she walked out onto the path and it seemed to fit, as if it had always been there. She was glad of his solidness beside her.
As she pushed open the garden gate onto the street she blinked at the swathes of lights which blazed up and down the road; optimistic fairy lights that adorned windows, hedges, and trees – both indoors and out. They took Lia by surprise,
partly because they alluded to the simple passage of time, which no longer seemed to hold any relevance for her, but also because they seemed so incongruous. Why was the whole world not in mourning? How was the world turning without her, when surely it should be stuck fast? She felt affronted by it at first, mocked by the joy that shone out into the night, when all she could see ahead of her was darkness. But, as they neared the town and the profusion of lights grew greater, she started to find it strangely comforting; an assurance that, whatever happened in the world, nothing was powerful enough to halt the seasons from turning. It gave her hope that perhaps there would be something for her, after.
Jasper was quiet beside her, perhaps lost in his own thoughts, or possibly mindful of hers. Since they had spoken earlier in the kitchen they had not revisited the subject of their relationship, and it had given her time to breathe, to simply exist in her own space with no demands on her, other than his presence. He was right; she didn’t want to be on her own, but neither did she want to be told how to feel or what to think. She needed these last few hours before tomorrow to prepare herself mentally for what was to come, and the only way she could do that was by herself.
She shivered slightly as they turned the final corner before the High Street, a keen wind cutting across them for a moment before they passed once more into the shelter of the buildings. Strings of bright lights crisscrossed the street, multi-coloured, swaying gently, and all along both sides of the road the shops were each lit up with their own decorations. It was a cheery, welcoming sight.
‘Drink first? Or shall we walk?’ asked Jasper as they drew level with Earl Grey’s, and she smiled at his supposedly innocent remark.
She checked her watch. ‘They’ll be closing soon, so a quick drink I think,’ she said. ‘I could just check with Clive that all’s well for tomorrow too, couldn’t I?’
Jasper didn’t reply, but then he didn’t need to. He opened the door for her, and followed her in.