by Emma Cooper
Jen is sitting on a low branch, her legs dangling down either side, her hair swinging forward as she claps.
It all happens so quickly: the crack, her claps stopping, her body, the branch plummeting, my movement. All of it must have lasted only a few seconds but somehow, I managed to catch her, she is in my arms, her head thrown back in laughter, my knees collapsing beneath the impact and her weight being held by my arms.
‘Edward Jones! You are my hero!’ She laughs.
The breath is knocked from my lungs and sweat is running down my back.
‘Did you see that?!’ Oscar is pulling at Hailey’s hand. ‘Daddy is like Superman!’
Oscar and Jen are euphoric. But, in Hailey’s eyes, above the smile that she is wearing, I see the worry I felt at the beginning of the day reflected back at me.
We need to talk.
Chapter Fifteen
Jennifer
I wish all Saturdays could be like this. I love the smell of cut grass, the hum of bees, the—
‘Jen? Are you listening to me? You need to tell me what’s going on.’
I roll onto my front and reach for the glass of Diet Coke next to the rug. I smile as I lift it because there is a ring of daisies around the base . . . it looks like an Instagram post.
‘Ed, you’re like a dog with a bone. Nothing is going on. Can we not just enjoy the peace and quiet? How often do we just get to relax in the garden without Hailey asking to play a game or Oscar asking for food?’
The ice clatters against the side of the glass as I take a few sips; I feel the cool liquid descending inside my body towards my stomach. I replace the glass neatly into the circle of daisies and roll onto my back. ‘This is why I asked Mum to have the kids . . . so we can talk.’
‘About what? You’ve said your piece about me taking the kids out without telling you, I’ve apologised for that even though I don’t think it’s that big a deal.’
I pull down my sunglasses from my head and close my eyes.
‘The Nash twins’ parents are always taking their kids out of school. The only difference is that I was honest and didn’t lie and tell them the kids were sick. Next time I’ll lie, OK?’
‘It’s not just that.’ He leans up on his elbow and lifts up my sunglasses; his eyes are searching mine, a crease of worry pulling his eyebrows together. ‘Talk to me, Jen.’
Kerry is sitting up on the corner of the rug by my feet; she is pulling down the straps on her top and rubbing sun cream in. I manoeuvre my foot so that it connects with her shin.
I don’t feel anything because she isn’t there.
‘I don’t know what you want me to say,’ I reply to Ed, pulling my sunglasses back onto my nose. ‘I miss her, that’s all,’ I say.
‘I know you do. I miss her too. But—’
I kiss his lips and pull him towards me.
‘Jen—’ he murmurs as I push myself against him. ‘Jen!’ He untangles himself and moves his body back, running his fingers through his hair agitatedly.
I sit up. ‘What?!’
‘You can’t keep doing this.’
‘Doing what? Kiss my husband? Find him attractive?’
‘No! Yes! No.’
‘Well which one is it? Yes or no?’
‘Both. You need to tell me what is going on with you. You’ve changed, you’re like a different person.’
‘Well of course I’m a different person! I watched my sister die in front of me. This time last year, Ed . . . do you know what we were doing? It’s the third of May.’ His eyebrows furrow, the date not ringing a bell with him. ‘This time last year, we went to that festival in the park, the one with all the tribute artists.’ His eyes seem to clear as the memory hits him. ‘Kerry pretended to be pregnant and hid all our booze in her bump under the maternity dress.’ He smiles at the memory, but I don’t.
‘Yeah, that was a fun day . . . what I can remember of it. I fell in some bushes, didn’t I?’
‘You did. Nessa had to pull you out while me and Kerry pushed our way to the front of “Take This” and tried to grab fake fat Gary Barlow’s hand even though we found out after that he was in his fifties and was a plumber.’
‘Good times.’ Ed laughs.
And here is the problem. He can talk about this without ice creeping through his veins, without his breath feeling heavy in his lungs. He doesn’t get it; he doesn’t get what Nessa and I are going through. He is able to remember this and laugh and smile. He hasn’t been glancing at his watch every few minutes and thinking about where he was on that day. I know that right now, as I’m having these thoughts, we were making our way to see Mick Astley, that Kerry’s festival wellies were rubbing the back of the heels that—
‘Oh for fuck’s sake. Can you hear yourself? Get over it already. Seriously, Jen, you’re thinking about my blisters. Can you hear how pathetic that sounds?’
‘I miss her so much, Ed.’ I hide my face further into his T-shirt on the verge of tears, but my tears turn to laughter because I’m remembering that while Mick Astley was never gonna give us up, Kerry had farted and was wafting her hand in front of her face and looking at the woman next to her dressed in a ‘Frankie Says Relax’ T-shirt with disgust, when in fact, it was Kerry who had dealt a silent but violent.
I retell the story to Ed. It feels good to be talking about her.
I sit up on my knees and wipe my face with the back of my hand. ‘Let’s go somewhere, Ed. We’ve got the day to ourselves, thanks to global warming it’s as warm as the Med . . . let’s pack a picnic and go somewhere.’
Ed shields his eyes from the sun. ‘Where?’
‘I’ve got an idea.’
My feet slip into my flip-flops as I go through the kitchen and into the bleakness of the garage. My hand slides across the wall until I find the light switch, casting artificial orange light onto the toolboxes and old board games until I find what I am looking for. I flick the switch back off, the board games and toolboxes once again hidden in darkness.
The AA Map of the British Isles drops onto the grass. Ed reaches for it with an unsure smile. ‘I didn’t know we still had this.’
I kneel behind him and cover his eyes with my hands. ‘Do you remember when we used to do this?’ I whisper into his ear, passing a drawing pin into his palm. My eyes follow the line of goose bumps crawling up his arm as he twists his head away.
‘Argh, you know it gives me goose bumps when you talk in my ear.’
‘Yeah but you like it really.’ I pull the end of his earlobe with my teeth.
He grabs my hands from his eyes and pulls me onto his lap, kissing me on the mouth.
‘Ow!’ I shift as the drawing pin digs into my hip. ‘You’re supposed to stick that in the map, not me!’
‘So I’ve been doing it wrong all these years? I’m not supposed to stick it in you?’
‘Ha ha, very funny.’ I reach for the map. ‘Choose a number.’
‘Sixty-nine.’
I roll my eyes. ‘That wasn’t predictable at all. Pick another.’
He chooses twenty-five, and I open the page showing part of Wales and return to my position behind him, once more covering his eyes as he plunges the drawing pin. I scurry to his side and scrutinise where the pin has landed. Pembrokeshire fills the page.
‘Ooh. We’ve never been there, have we?’ I ask.
‘No, but—’
‘What?’ I tilt my head and smile at him. ‘Come on . . . let’s have an adventure. We’ve got the whole of Saturday to ourselves.’ I scour the map and point to a coastal town, which I Google. ‘Look, there are some beautiful beaches. We could go skinny dipping.’ I wink.
‘Jen?’
I turn to him. ‘Look, it only takes a couple of hours,’ I say, ignoring the doubt pulling at the corner of his mouth.
He puts his forehead against mine; unspoken words hang between us, lingering with our breath. ‘Do you know where my swimming shorts are?’ he asks defeatedly, and I grin.
‘In the swimwear drawer,’ I say
, standing up and grabbing his hands.
‘We have a swimwear drawer?’
‘Who doesn’t have a swimwear drawer?’
‘I love you.’
‘I know.’
Chapter Sixteen
Jennifer
I’m happy. This is the thought that mixes with trees, the hills, the breeze coming into the car through the open window that my arm is leaning out of. My reflection in the wing mirror is that of a young woman who is happy. Everything about her tells me this, like the laughter in her eyes as her handsome husband tells her a joke; it radiates from them as she watches in awe the hills that rise and fall around the road that is leading them to their destination. The car in front slows our progress; a small grey head only just visible through the back window suggests the driver is nearing a century old.
Ed swears under his breath; he hits the brakes again as we meander around a bend in the road. We clear the turn and Ed changes gear, the growl of the engine shouting its frustration as we pass. My reflection is laughing and shifting position until the reflection is no longer smiling back at me; instead, my head is leaning out of the window, the air pushing my hair back with the speed of the car, catching my breath as I ‘woo-hooo!’ out of the window. The elderly driver looks at me with a mixture of surprise and annoyance. Before I know it, my hand is erecting my middle finger up at her. I don’t know who is more surprised, the elderly lady or me.
‘Jen!’ Ed’s hand has grabbed my other arm as we pass the bonnet of the car and slide into pole position. I’m breathless, my reflection confirming this with a flush to my cheeks, with the rapid rise and fall to my chest. Laughter rumbles from within my stomach, the wind snatches it, my laughter cascading over the hills along the doors of the car, laughter filling the gaps of the trees and rising into the sky. I take a sideways glance at Ed, his anger dissipating with the snorts and gasps that have taken control of me. ‘It’s not funny,’ he snaps, although I can see the beginnings of a smile in the way he is tugging at his bottom lip with his teeth. His eyes dart towards me as I wipe a tear away from my face. The muscles in my stomach are hurting, and the sounds from my earlier laughter are now just gasps and grunts. Ed’s eyes are trying to remain stern, but his mouth – his beautiful mouth – is curving, his hand rubbing the beginnings of stubble until finally he begins to laugh too. ‘You’re outrageous . . . do you know that? You could have given the poor woman a heart attack.’
We continue travelling, both of us singing badly to the radio, until the signal begins to break up. The car slows as we approach a roundabout. I reach over as Ed turns the wheel, resting my hand on his thigh while he looks at the screen of the sat nav.
When we were first together, we always used to travel in this position. My hand behind the gear stick, resting on his leg. I look down at my hand: it looks comfortable, there is no tension in the muscles, their weight is leaving an indentation in Ed’s beige shorts, beneath the fabric the soft hairs along his thigh are bending in submission. The indicator tocks and clicks back into place. Ed’s now free hand covers mine, his thumb running over my skin. I stare at our hands. They fit. Would my hand fit inside another man’s in the same way? Would his hold another woman’s with the same ease, each digit perfectly sliding into place?
If something happened to me, if I got hit by a car when I was crossing the road, would he ever find another woman’s hand to fit? I stare at his fingers, the creases of skin that cover the blood pulsing in his veins. I pull his hand towards my mouth. I begin to kiss it, as a need to taste his skin – to devour this part of him – takes over me. His attention is taken from the road ahead and he glances in my direction, his eyebrow raised as I open my mouth and run my tongue along the length of his index finger.
‘Pull over,’ I instruct.
‘But we’re not far away—’ He meets my eyes, the hunger in them unmistakable. ‘Jen, we can’t just—’
‘Ed.’ Tears have formed in my eyes and as I blink one falls along the curve of my cheek. I guide his left hand downwards towards the hem of my dress. His knuckles are gripping the steering wheel and he’s caught between checking the mirrors and taking furtive glances to where I’m guiding his free hand. ‘Please, Ed, pull over.’
He checks his mirrors again, indicates and takes us up a narrow side road and manoeuvres the car so it is parked behind an old tractor. I have unbuckled my seat belt before the engine has stopped, my mouth finding his, as his hand finds its place. He leans towards me, stroking my face with his other hand.
My climax is insistent and urgent, my eyes flashing open. Ed’s eyes are scanning my face, an expression somewhere between understanding and concern. He takes my hand and brings it to his lips; his kisses are firm against my knuckles, as though he is trying to leave a mark. Then he grins. A great big face-splitting grin that splinters his skin into amusement and life. He kisses the end of my nose, slides back into his seat and starts the engine.
The car eases towards the main road, but our progress comes to an abrupt halt as the car we had unashamedly overtaken flies past, the grey-haired driver flicking a triumphant V in our direction.
Chapter Seventeen
Jennifer
I lean my back against Ed’s chest, resting my arms on his knees as we watch the bunch of teenagers jumping off the rocks. Cliffs peer over the pool like toddlers fishing for tadpoles, each one pushing ahead, eager to get the best view. The water is an azure blue; the result of the minerals left from the mine. The mine that now fills the lives of the people who live here with joy, rather than the pain that would have beset the workers.
The beach towel beneath me ruffles as I reach forward and grab a strawberry, take a bite and then pass it over my shoulder for Ed to eat the rest. He’s been quiet since we arrived. If Kerry were here, she would have been standing next to us, her hand – flat and steady – shielding her eyes from the sun as they track the descent of one of the cliff divers.
Lovers’ Leap is a ledge that juts out just that bit more eagerly than the rest. It seems to be that ‘the lovers’ kiss each other before jumping off either side of the shelf that overhangs the blue depths below. The drop is only that of a few metres, about five I’d say, but then again, Ed is always telling me that my spatial awareness is a constant source of confusion to him.
‘You should totally do that,’ Kerry says, turning her face towards me.
‘Do what?’ Ed asks, jolting me, tethering me back into a world where Kerry isn’t standing in front of me but is six feet below the ground. I must have been thinking out loud. ‘That?’ His arm points as a couple are enthusiastically enjoying the lovers’ kiss before the leap. I link my fingers through his hand and pull his arm back towards me, enveloping myself into his embrace, as he kisses the top of my head. My heart hammers in my chest as I try to ignore the fact that once again, Kerry’s words have escaped from my mouth. I swallow hard, the taste of strawberries burning the back of my throat. The lovers have taken their respective positions, facing away from each other as they count down from five, then leap, both descending quickly – the boy with his legs apart and frog-like, the girl holding her nose while her legs run beneath her. The splash of water swallows their squeals, then expels them through the surface. They swim towards each other, blinking the water from their eyelashes and smoothing back hair until they are once again in each other’s arms.
‘Let’s do it,’ I say, bringing myself onto my knees and facing Ed.
‘Yeah, right.’ He rolls his eyes and leans back, tucking his hands behind his head.
I stand up and squint at the steel ladder that is bolted into the cliffside. ‘Come on, Ed! Let’s go.’
He rolls onto his side and props his head to the left. ‘You’re not serious?’
‘I am deadly serious.’
‘Ooh . . . she’s deadly serious. Nice.’ Kerry replies from the edge of the pool, where she is making ballerina steps around the water’s edge.
‘Jen, you wouldn’t even jump off the kids’ diving board last year an
d now you want to do a cliff jump?’ He laughs. ‘Very funny.’
‘Fine . . . I’ll do it myself, but I don’t think jumping off Lovers’ Leap without my lover is going to give us much luck.’ I kick off my sliders, pull my green swimsuit out of my bum cheeks and head towards the cliff. The rock surface feels rough and warm beneath my feet as they take me towards the ladder.
‘Jennifer! Jen! Wait!’
I smile. I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist it. I stop in my tracks and turn towards him, as he pulls his T-shirt over his head and throws it towards the cool box and towels, jogging towards me, running a hand through his hair.
‘Are you sure about this?’ Ed asks, looking up at the ladder, the fastenings rusting into the slate-grey surface. ‘It’s quite high.’ His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as his eyes follow the steps towards the summit, but I focus on the bolts.
The Imaginable Death of Jennifer Jones – #4
Death by Falling Ladder
Fifty years ago, this was a place of fun for the local teens. They would swim in the pool on hot days, skate across it in the winter and climb the cliff on Friday nights, their bodies filled with the daring and optimism of youth. Until one Friday night, Billy Wise, eager to impress his would-be sweetheart, climbed the rock face. Even though Billy knew that the rock was wet from the rain earlier in the day, he could think of nothing other than Eva’s lips on his and so he dug in his heels and began to climb. But the rock was more slippery than he had thought and even though he was a good climber, even though his fingers were strong, his boots couldn’t find their place and Billy Wise fell to his death. He got the kiss from Eva, but Billy’s heart had already stopped beating when her lips met his.
Billy Wise’s father – Billy senior – grieved the death of his son acutely. And even though the teenagers talked about poor Billy Wise, it didn’t stop them coming to the cliff, Billy’s death making the treacherous climb even more of a challenge.