by Amy Bratley
Tears were streaming down my face. I felt them on my neck.
‘I had to tell you because your dad found the letter,’ he said. ‘And anyway, if we got back together, Daisy would tell you herself. That was always her threat. That was why I left in the first place. She said if she couldn’t have me, no one could, and that I should leave, or she would tell you I seduced her. That night, when I left her house, I hated myself so much I wanted to die.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me that night?’ I said. ‘Just run the risk that I might hate you but that I might forgive you?’
‘Because I thought you’d never speak to me again,’ he said. ‘And if I didn’t tell you but I stayed, Daisy would. I was trapped. I left because I thought it would be better for everyone. You could get on with your life without me. Daisy wouldn’t be in pain. If I’d stayed, you and Daisy would have fallen out and we might have broken up.’
‘Too bloody right,’ I said. ‘You were saving yourself, Ethan. You were running away from a shambolic situation that you created to save face.’
Ethan shook his head vehemently. He interrupted me.
‘After I’d been away a month, I missed you so much I questioned my actions,’ he said. ‘I thought about how much I loved you and hoped that we were strong enough to get through anything, so I wrote to you explaining everything. I knew you and Daisy would fall out and I felt terrible about that, but my desire for you was greater. Selfish, perhaps, but I loved you too much not to tell you the truth. I waited and waited for your answer but it never came, so I assumed that was it, you hated me, full stop. I know this is horrible to hear. I wish I could change what I did. But I didn’t do it because I’m ruthless and egotistical. It was a mess, the biggest mess, but I love you and always have. I will love you until I die.’
Ethan was crying now, but I didn’t care. I wanted him to feel as miserable as me.
‘Eve,’ he said, tears running down his cheeks. ‘I’m sorry.’
We’d reached the Tube now and had paused outside in the busy pavement. People were unashamedly watching us. It was clear we were having a massive argument. Being looked at didn’t stop me from crying. I didn’t think I’d ever stop. I was utterly dumbfounded. Through the tears, I scrabbled in my bag for my Oyster card and grabbed my sandal from Ethan. I threw it on the pavement and stuffed my foot inside. I took a deep breath.
‘You ruined my life once,’ I said to Ethan. ‘And now you’ve done it again. Don’t come near me, ever again.’
Ethan grabbed my arm. His eyes were red and his skin blotchy. He looked scared and, for a fraction of a moment, my heart softened and I felt sorry for him.
‘Don’t go,’ he said. ‘Please. Calm down. I love you.’
I pulled my arm back from him, touched my Oyster card to the machine and went through the barrier. When I glanced back, he didn’t look the relaxed, confident, charming man he usually was. He looked hollowed out, panic-stricken. Lost.
‘I know you still love me,’ he called after me, as I joined the queue of people waiting to go down the stairs to the trains rumbling noisily below. ‘Even now, I know you do. I’m not perfect, I messed up, but I love you so much I can’t sleep. I talk to you, Eve. I talk to you like you’re there with me. You’re always with me, in my heart.’
People were looking at me, some with half-smiles of amusement on their faces, as if we were re-enacting a romantic scene from a film. Except in this case, there was no happy ending. I didn’t smile. I kept my eyes firmly fixed on my hands, bleary with tears.
‘Life is nothing without you!’ he shouted again, as I descended out of view. ‘I love you.’
I’d waited a long time to hear those three words again. And now they meant nothing. Nothing at all.
‘There’s only you!’ I heard him shout, before I was on the platform and he was no longer in earshot. ‘Only you.’
I nearly laughed. You hit the nail on the head, Ethan. It’s only me, now. Only me.
I waited on the platform, alongside a boy with a pink Mohican and a group of girls dressed up in tiny black dresses and high heels. They were laughing loudly and sharing a bottle of wine, even though you weren’t supposed to drink booze on the Underground any more. No one seemed to care, or even notice. I stared, not really seeing, at the destination sign flashing overhead, trying to work out where to go. A wave of nausea washed over me. Despite the heat of the night and the suffocating Underground air, I shivered. What was I going to do? I tried to make sense of Ethan’s words, but every time I imagined him and Daisy together, I wanted to throw up. Folding my arms across my stomach, I sucked in my breath as a train thundered into the platform, blowing my hair up into the air. It screeched to a halt and stopped, the doors flinging open. I decided to get on the train and change at Oxford Circus, then go to see my dad. It was all I could think to do. Dad must know all about this. I stepped up on the train and closed my eyes for a moment. Had Daisy and Dad talked about this? Exactly how much did he know? I shook my head in despair. How could they not tell me about something that affects me so profoundly? I felt blindsided. I found a seat and ignored the people opposite staring at my blotchy, tear-stained face. I focused on a poster above their heads advertising a dating agency. Someone had changed the ‘d’ to an ‘m’ with a thick black felt marker pen. I flicked my eyes along to the next advert for around-the-world tickets. Perhaps that’s what I would have to do now? Get lost somewhere, on the other side of the world. I couldn’t stay in London. The reason my ex-boyfriend had left me was because he’d slept with my sister. She, apparently, had gone all out to steal him from me, then was the epitome of sympathy when he left. I’d treated Joe really badly because I’d thought I was still in love with my ex, probably thrown away anything we had, and what about the cafe?
It’s not just your dream, I remembered Isabel saying.
Maybe I should just jack the whole lot in, pack my bags and leave, just as Ethan had done, just as Isabel was about to do. But I couldn’t do that to my dad, could I? He’d feel abandoned, blamed. Mum had gone, I couldn’t go too. Oh God. One minute life is good, the next, you’re slam-dunking into a deep dark pit. With a groan, I leaned forward and rested my face in my hands, replaying Ethan’s description of his infidelity in my mind. Grotesque images filtered into my head and I snapped my eyes open instead. The awful thing was, as much as I hated Ethan, even now, the news just sinking into my brain, though I didn’t want to, I believed Ethan, that he felt sorry for Daisy on some level. It was just like him to want to make things better. But the fact remained that he slept with my sister. No one forced him to, even if he did feel sorry for her. But Daisy’s desperation – her level of jealousy – shocked me. She’d never even mentioned that she liked Ethan before we’d got together, let alone since. And when I’d broken up with Ethan – or rather he had fled to Rome – she’d been loyal and loving. She’d listened to me sobbing about how much I didn’t want to live without him. She’d talked me out of flying to Italy to try to get him back.
‘It’s stronger to stay away,’ she’d advised, when I was desperate to contact him.
I shook my head at the memory of her advice, so controlled and self-assured. I’d hung on to Daisy’s words. But now, those words seemed loaded with self-interest. Would she really want to destroy my relationship with Ethan because she wanted him for herself? Even though I’d told her on countless occasions how happy we were? I closed my eyes again and felt our entire shared history unravelling furiously quickly, like the rope of an anchor thrown out to sea. If I couldn’t trust my own sister, who in this world could I trust?
‘Eve,’ said Joe’s voice from somewhere nearby. ‘Are you all right?’
I pinged open my eyes. There was Joe, a look of astonishment on his face, his eyes full of concern, his skin light brown from the sun, standing just down the carriage. He smiled at me and I felt my eyes instantly fill with tears. He moved towards me, navigating several pairs of legs and a suitcase. I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I nodded my head in reply,
biting down on my lip. I wanted to tell him everything, but I couldn’t say a word. He didn’t know anything. He didn’t know what my life had now become. He knew only that I’d treated him badly and resisted his love. I wanted to shout out that without him, my life had suddenly become a scary, horrible place. That I wanted him to come back. But I couldn’t. He deserved better.
‘I’m just going to see my dad,’ I said in a small voice.
Joe nodded.
‘How’s the cafe?’ he asked, picking bits of nothing off his T-shirt. ‘I want you to keep that money.’
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘But I can’t accept your money. Honestly, Joe, it’s really sweet of you, but it’s not going to happen.’
We looked at one another. Joe gave me a sad smile.
‘Look at it as an investment,’ he said. ‘We’ve been friends forever and despite what might happen, I want you to get on and realize your dreams. Keep it.’
He glanced up out of the window at the platform we were drawing in to. He twisted his body away from me and held on to the bar above our heads.
‘I can’t,’ I said again. Joe looked hurt.
‘I’m getting off here,’ he said. ‘Just keep the cash. Do me a favour.’
‘Oh, Joe,’ I said, suddenly panicking. ‘Do you have to go? I need to talk.’
Joe frowned and looked at me like I’d said something completely outrageous.
‘I don’t really feel like talking,’ he said. ‘Goodbye.’
He stepped off the carriage and, without looking back at me, he disappeared into a throng of people pushing their way to the exit. I stayed watching in case he turned round, but the doors slammed shut and the train raced off, with a high-pitched scream, into a dark tunnel.
‘Goodbye,’ I whispered, my hand pressed against the window.
Chapter Twenty
‘Sit down, my love,’ Dad said, when he let me in the front door in floods of tears, and led me through to the kitchen. ‘Let me get you a very strong drink.’
He pulled out a chair for me at the kitchen table. I flopped down onto it and rested my arms on the scratched table surface, reaching out to the biscuit tin and pulling off the lid.
‘I bought those this afternoon,’ he said, as I lifted out a pale pink macaroon and sank my teeth into it. ‘They’re a little brittle. Would you like a hot chocolate with a shot of something in it? That’s what I feel like.’
I let the sugar melt on my tongue, nodded and muttered my thanks, my heart drumming so hard I felt sure he must be able to hear it. How could I broach this subject? I knew, once I’d said what I had to say, everything would change. Our little family unit of three would be ripped up by feelings of distrust and resentment. All my dad’s hard work over the years, to give our family a heart, despite my mother not being there, the missing ingredient, would be ruined. Was this any way to thank him? I fleetingly entertained the idea of not saying anything about it, but I knew I had to. After all, he’d told me to confront Ethan. He’d wanted me to know the truth. There was no way I could pretend it had never happened, as my dad had done.
‘You spoke to Ethan, then,’ he said quietly, moving around the kitchen, his shaved head shining under the spotlights, while I picked fallen petals from a vase of white roses. With his back to me, he found a bar of bittersweet chocolate in the cupboard. He set about grating half of it into a saucepan, then pouring over milk, before turning up the heat. I put the petals in a heap and drummed my fingers on the table.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I did.’
‘Dark sugar,’ Dad said. ‘Bit of nutmeg and a good slug of rum. That’s the way she made it, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ I said, remembering the hot chocolate Mum used to make for Dad, then for Daisy and me, minus the rum. It was always incredibly thick. She was never mean with the chocolate.
‘So, what did he tell you?’ Dad asked. ‘The truth?’
I nodded and he sighed, shaking his head. He heated the saucepan, stirring rhythmically before pouring the hot chocolate into small glass tumblers and handing me one. He pulled a chair out opposite me, placed his own glass down in front of him and smiled sympathetically.
‘It’s bad,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, my love. I’m sorry if it was wrong not to tell you, but I didn’t want you and Daisy to fall out over a man.’
He reached his hands over the table and clasped mine tightly in his.
‘You should have given me the letter,’ I said. ‘I’ve spent three years wondering why.’
‘But you would have hated Daisy,’ he said in a low, emotional tone. ‘And I couldn’t bear to see you girls fall out. I know I shouldn’t have read the letter. It was addressed to you, care of me, and I had no idea it was from him. I opened it absent-mindedly, but when I flicked my eyes over it, I took the decision to keep it from you. I didn’t want you to know what Daisy had done, what Ethan had done, for two reasons. One, because you’re my baby girl and I couldn’t bear to see you hurt so much and two, because I didn’t want you girls to fall out. Your mother would have hated it. Her dying wish was that I made sure we three, as a family, stayed close. I stand by my decision. This family has seen enough sadness. I thought we’d never see Ethan again.’
Dad stopped speaking and took a deep breath.
‘But why would you keep that information from me?’ I asked, unable to keep the anger out of my voice. ‘I’m not a baby. Why didn’t you let me have the facts? Then I could have lived accordingly. You might have wanted to respect Mum’s wishes, but she’s dead! What about my wishes? I’m alive! You’ve seen how I’ve felt since Ethan has been back. You’ve seen how I’ve behaved towards Joe. Why the hell didn’t you set me straight? And as for Daisy! I spend my entire life treading on eggshells around her, and all the time she’s been stabbing me in the back.’
Dad sat back in his chair, let his arms drop to his side and sighed.
‘I didn’t want you and Daisy to hate one another,’ he said again quietly. ‘You and Daisy are everything to me. Your mum would have been heartbroken if she thought you weren’t happy together. God, it’s always been difficult to keep Daisy happy. She’s always been jealous of you, but I’ve done my best. When I found out she’d done this, I was horrified. I was so disappointed, but I sensed she was too, in herself. She’s not a bad person, Eve. She’s just jealous and insecure. She never really grieved properly for your mum and you know me, I couldn’t talk to her about it. I decided to treat her like an adult, let her be on her own, and concentrate on you. That’s probably where it all started. We should have talked more but after your mum died I wasn’t too good, I kind of fell apart for a while . . .’
Dad’s sentence trailed off. He suddenly looked frail and older than his years. His eyes were moist.
‘Don’t think about that now, Dad,’ I said gently, as bravely as I could. ‘You’ll upset yourself. I’m not blaming you. What’s done is done. I just wish I had known.’
‘Oh, love,’ he said. ‘It’s all my fault. I know it is. I’m sorry. I’ve failed you and Daisy. I’ve failed your mother. The whole thing, I’ve messed up, trying to do the right thing but getting it completely wrong . . .’
Dad put his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands.
‘It’s not your fault,’ I said. ‘It’s Ethan and Daisy’s fault. The only thing you should have done differently is to have shown me that letter. I don’t want to be kept in the dark about my own life. As for Daisy, I can’t even think about her yet. I seriously can’t let myself think about how angry, how betrayed I feel . . .’
Dad sat up straight again and pushed back his chair and walked over to the cooker. He picked up the saucepan and poured himself more hot chocolate. I lifted my glass to my lips and sipped, jumping when there was a loud knock on the door. My stomach turned. Daisy? I looked at the clock on the wall. Eleven o’clock. No, it couldn’t be Daisy, she would be at home. I noticed a takeaway menu on the table.
‘Who’s this?’ I said, frowning. ‘You’re not expecting anyone, are
you? Have you ordered a takeaway?
Dad shook his head. He put down the saucepan and cleared his throat. He moved through the kitchen, catching his reflection in the mirror as he went. I noticed him grimace at himself, checking his teeth.
‘It might be . . .’ he said. ‘It could be Elaine.’
‘Elaine?’ I said. ‘Who’s that?’
Dad said he’d tell me later. He moved to the front door. I stayed at the table, clutching my tumbler of hot chocolate, listening. I sucked in my breath when I heard Ethan’s voice, slurred with alcohol.
‘Frankie,’ I heard him say. ‘I need to speak to your daughter. I love her. I’ve always loved her. Please, let me see her. I know she’s here. She must be.’
Shakily, I got up from my chair and tiptoed to the kitchen door. I held on to the side of it and peered around the edge, where I could see Dad’s back and parts of Ethan. He was gesturing wildly, begging Dad to let him in. I stayed silent, not wanting him to see me. I felt like I was watching the whole scene from above.
‘I think you should go,’ Dad said. I hung back in the shadows, my arms crossed. I could see Ethan, wrung out, a man in pain. I didn’t feel sorry for him.
‘Nothing good is going to come of you speaking to Eve tonight,’ he said. ‘She’s too upset. You’re drunk. Go home. Go away. I wish you’d never come back.’
‘Stop being so over-protective of her!’ Ethan said. ‘You always treated her like she’s six years old. She’s an adult. Let her make up her own mind!’
‘I do not treat her like she’s six years old,’ he said. ‘I just don’t want a drunken idiot like you in my house at midnight, thank you very much. I think you’ve created enough drama for one night. I shouldn’t let you anywhere near either of my daughters! Not that you care about Daisy.’