Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Eight
By the end of the day, Jess was exhausted. Wendy had been keeping a close eye on her after she refused to go home early, providing her with an endless supply of hot drinks, enticing snacks and, when Jess allowed it, hugs.
‘Pamper yourself this evening,’ her boss said, as Jess got her handbag out of the storeroom at closing time. ‘Do something nice.’
‘Sure,’ Jess replied, giving her a smile, and let Wendy inflict a final hug on her before she left.
What she really wanted to do was go home and think of nothing much at all, maybe watch a Gerard Butler film with Terence. She said a weary goodbye to Olga and Susie, who were both tidying their stalls away. It always felt strange walking through the market when it was closing, the sounds of shutters being pulled down, items being put into boxes more prevalent than talking or laughter. Tonight it felt extra sombre, even though she knew – of course she did – that there would always be people who were less than kind about artists and small business owners, who got their fun from making others feel bad. She’d never been personally insulted before, that was all.
An afternoon rain shower had been and gone, and Jess put her head down and walked quickly along damp, shiny pavements. She didn’t usually get into her pyjamas straight after work, but today she might.
She took her key out of her bag, looked up, and came to a stumbling stop.
Ash was leaning against the door to her flat, typing something on his phone, his navy tie loosened over a white work shirt. Her body’s reaction was instant desire, but her brain stuttered.
‘Ash?’
He looked up, and even his smile couldn’t break through the emotional wall that had just come up. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘You look worn out.’
‘What are you doing here?’ Her bag slipped off her shoulder, and she hauled it back up.
‘I wanted to see you,’ he said. ‘I wanted to make sure you were OK.’
‘I’m fine. I told you not to come.’
His smile faltered, but didn’t fall. ‘I know, but I was worried about you. You sounded so upset, and we were going to see each other tomorrow anyway—’
‘I haven’t got any food in. I was going to get a takeaway.’
‘We could get one together, if you want. Or I could—’
‘I didn’t expect you to be here.’
Ash pushed off the door as she approached. Her fingers tingled with the urge to touch him, but she resisted.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,’ he said. ‘I thought it’d be a surprise. A good surprise.’
‘It’s very thoughtful of you.’ She stopped in front of him, but she didn’t let herself reach for him.
‘You sound like a robot.’ Ash laughed, but some of the warmth had left his voice. ‘I’m sorry, are you busy tonight? I just thought, after what happened, that you might not want to be on your own. I wanted to check you were all right.’
‘You did check, though, on the phone. And I told you I was.’
‘Jess, I’m sorry—’
‘You keep saying that.’ She put her key in the lock and pushed the door open, then looked at him. ‘Are you coming up?’
He pressed his lips together, then nodded. She heard his steady footsteps behind her, could feel pressure building up inside her. This was all wrong. She’d told him not to come, and he’d come anyway, and she wanted to... to fold herself into him, but she couldn’t, could she? It was too much, too soon, and he hadn’t listened to her.
‘Do you want a beer?’ she asked him. ‘I have some Budweiser.’
Ash stopped just inside the door. ‘Am I staying?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t think that’s down to me, is it? I mean, I told you not to come, but here you are.’
‘I thought you’d want to see me. I thought our problem was finding time to see each other.’
‘Yes, but today has been hard, and—’
‘I know, and I thought I could comfort you, or take your mind off things, or...’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘When bad stuff happens, you usually want to be with the people closest to you.’
‘You meaning me, or a general you?’
Ash shrugged. ‘I mean... everyone?’
Jess shook her head. ‘I just want to put it out of my head.’
‘I get that.’ He took a step towards her. ‘We can do anything you want.’
‘I don’t... I just – I want to be on my own, OK?’
Ash stopped. He looked surprised, and Jess felt as if she was shrivelling to nothing. She was a yo-yo, trapped halfway between an outstretched hand and the floor, because he was Ash, and he’d been nothing but wonderful to her, but she couldn’t let herself needhim.
‘I’ll go,’ he said, and now he sounded like a robot.
‘Ash.’ She was wavering. She’d never wavered this much before.
‘It’s fine, Jess.’ He turned to the door.
‘It’s not— it’s...’ Could she tell him how much this scared her? How the strength of her feelings for him went against the rules she lived by; how she stayed happy and safe and heartbreak-free? ‘I don’t often let people in.’
He turned back round. ‘I know,’ he said gently. ‘And I understand. But I felt helpless, sitting at work, knowing what had happened to you. I’m here for you, whenever you want me. It’s OK to need someone.’
It wasn’t, though. Not for her. And... how could he say all this, when it wasn’t OK for him to need her, either? ‘What about Sundays?’ She leaned against the kitchen counter and folded her arms. Terence wasn’t here, and the room was gloomy without the TV flashing bright colours in the corner.
‘I still want to see you on Sunday,’ Ash said.
‘No, I mean, what about you on Sundays? You say it’s fine to need someone, and you’re here for me now, as if you’ve picked yourself to be the person I turn to when things go to shit, but you won’t tell me anything about what you do after we say goodbye, even though it has directly impacted our time together, every single week, and it obviously affects you a whole lot.’
‘That’s different.’
‘How is it?’
‘You’re such a good thing in my life, Jess, and—’
‘So I just get the fun bits? You’re filtering yourself for me?’
He shook his head. ‘All the things I feel with you – I don’t want to ruin it.’
‘But you want me to let you in when I’m dealing with crap? I can depend on you for comfort, but for you I’m only this fun-time girl? Don’t you trust me to be able to help you, too?’
‘Of course I do.’ He yanked at his tie, loosening it further. It made him look dishevelled, his eyes slightly wild, and she realised how much she wanted to take care of him. Never mind that she’d resisted him doing the same thing – maybe once he told her what he was dealing with, she’d feel like they were on an even footing. ‘It’s awful, Jess,’ he said. ‘The whole thing. I don’t want you to have that burden.’
‘I want to, though. You can’t dictate how we work, Ash. You can’t ignore me when I tell you I don’t want to see you, because your instinct is to come and look after me, then keep everything dark and gnarly about yourself hidden. Where’s the fairness in that?’
‘Life isn’t fair, OK? It’s just not!’
It was like an explosion, so different to the funny, charming Ash she knew. She felt the bite of the kitchen counter against her lower back as she leaned away from the shock of it. Ash stepped back, too, his hands pressed to his cheeks.
‘I’m sorry.’ He said it to the floor. ‘Jess?’
‘I need to go change.’ She pushed herself off the counter and walked to her room, not sure what she was doing, why she’d left Ash standing there. She kicked off her shoes, switched on her fairy lights, flung her phone on the bedside table.
She felt him in the doorway before she saw him.
‘My dad’s dying.’
She turned around. He looked blank, as if he’d wiped his mind of all emotions in order to be able to tell her.
Her stomach clenched. ‘Oh Ash, I’m so sorry—’
‘He walked out on Mum, Dylan and me when I was twelve. He went back to Italy for the most part, though I know he travelled around, too. We got sporadic birthday cards, occasional phone calls, but it devastated Mum. She brought us up, working long hours, while he did whatever he wanted, running money-making schemes that usually failed. When they succeeded, Mum didn’t see any money. No child support. No emotional support. No Dad, really.’
‘That’s terrible.’ She felt sick that she’d forced it out of him this way.
‘Now he’s in Greenwich, in a private hospice, dying of lung cancer. Mum can’t bear to see him, but she thinks he should have someone, some family, in his last few months, and Dylan’s not here. So. It’s me. I come here every Sunday and, after you, I spend an hour with him. Sometimes he talks, sometimes he can’t get the words out or he’s too drugged up. The last couple of weeks, he’s mostly been asleep.’
He leaned against the doorframe, looking as exhausted as she felt. ‘And I can’t tell him how angry I am – how much he hurt Mum, how he fucked up my childhood – because he’s sick. But I still have to sit there. Peggy, who we bumped into – she’s one of the nurses. She’s looked after me.’
Jess could only nod. He still came, even though his dad had abandoned him? Even though it was clearly torture. ‘You could tell him, though.’
‘What would be the point? Who would feel better if I did that?’
‘You might,’ Jess said, but Ash shook his head.
‘I wouldn’t. Maybe I’d feel better for a second, then the guilt would be even worse. And I didn’t want you to know, because you were this sudden, bright part of my Sundays. I could look forward to coming here, because I got to see you before him. I still had to see him, but there was more – a better reason for being here.’
‘You could have told me.’
‘I didn’t want him to leach out of Cherry Blossom Lodge and fuck this up for me, too. I’ve tried so hardto stop him fucking me up now, as much as he did then. And I know that’s a shit way to think about a dying man, but I do.’
She walked over to him. ‘You could just stop going. Spend Sundays with me. I’ll speak to Wendy, change my work days. Braden’s ready to take on more responsibility anyway.’
‘I have to see him,’ Ash said.
‘Why?’
‘Because I promised Mum.’
‘If she really wants someone to see him, then why doesn’t she do it?’
‘Because he ruined her life,’ Ash said. ‘He broke up our family for some whim, some scheme back in Italy. Mum wouldn’t go because we were settled in school, in our house, and she knew it wouldn’t work anyway. He left her to struggle, so I get why she doesn’t want to drag it all up again with him.’
‘But she’s happy for you to have to go through that, even though you were only twelve when he stopped being your dad?’
‘I’m stronger than she is.’
‘But you’re allowed to be weak, too.’ She put her hands on his shoulders, but he didn’t relax into her touch.
‘Not with this. It’s my responsibility.’
‘It isn’t, Ash.My parents said some things about me that I wasn’t meant to hear, and it changed the way I saw them. So I still speak to them sometimes, but I don’t need them, and I don’t feel any kind of responsibility towards them, and you shouldn’t either. Your dad – you don’t need to see him, and your mum shouldn’t have asked you to go. It’s not fair.’
‘Life isn’t fair,’ he said again. ‘You might feel no loyalty to your parents, and I understand why, but my mum did everything for me and Dylan when he was gone. This is the leastI can do for her.’
Jess shook her head. ‘What about you? What about looking after yourself? Who do youtalk to about all this? Because it hasn’t been me, has it?’
‘I’m fine on—’
‘On your own?’ Jess finished. ‘That’s what I said to you, but you still turned up here, insisting that I was wrong. Am I allowed to tell you that you’re wrong, or is this another example where I have to do what you say?’
He stared at her. ‘This is different.’
Jess circled back to her bed, picked up her yellow yeti cushion and squeezed it. It was going to take all her strength to put his anger aside, to tuck her own fears away so she could examine them later, but she was going to, because what Ash was dealing with was awful. They were both stubborn, they both wanted to survive by themselves, but the truth was, they’d found each other; they cared about each other. She could let him in, and if she did that, then surelyhe would do the same for her?
‘Come here.’ She put her cushion down and stepped towards him, giving into her wants: to kiss him and wrap him up, lethim bury his head in her neck just as he’d done in Felicity’s garden all those weeks ago. ‘Let me take care of
you, Ash.’
A flicker of longing crossed his face.
She smiled. ‘I’ll get the takeaway menus, and we can—’
‘I need to go.’
‘What?’ She thought she’d misheard.
‘I need to go.’ His voice was flat. ‘I can’t do this right now, and you said you didn’t need me, that you wanted to be on your own, so I’m going to go.’
‘Ash!’ she laughed, incredulous. ‘Come on. I know you’re hurting, and—’
‘You don’t get it,’ he said. ‘You don’t understand this. You have no family loyalty because you have no real family, and...’ He stopped, sucking in a breath, his eyes wide.
Jess pressed her lips together. He wasn’t wrong, and it had been her choice to push Edie and Graeme away, but it still hurt that, of all the ways in which he could have shown his anger, this was the one he chose. ‘OK, then.’
‘Jess—’
‘You can leave now.’
‘I’m sorry, I—’
‘This is a disaster, obviously. We’re good at having fun together, and the sex is – was – amazing, but when it comes to feelings, we’re clearly better on our own.’ It was a good little speech, especially on the spur of the moment, and she worked hard to keep her tone cold, her expression blank when Ash met her gaze, his eyes bright with horror. He stared at her for a moment, then his shoulders slumped.
He nodded and turned around, and she listened to him walk down the corridor, heard the front door open and then close, way too gently, behind him. Why didn’t he slam it? Why wasn’t he raging and throwing things and shouting right now? That was what she wanted to do, the anger and sadness bubbling up viciously inside her.
She stared at her cosy duvet and fluffy cushions, and decided she didn’t deserve their comfort. It was ironic that she’d told him – that she’d decided for both of them – they couldn’t do feelings, when he’d made her feel more than she had ever allowed herself to before.
But it was fine – good, even – because now everything could go back to normal. She could return to the happy little solo island of her existence. Except, right now, with the echo of Ash’s too gentle exit playing in her head, and his words about family loyalty like a bitter pill she’d swallowed in the back of her throat, her island felt like a very, very lonely place to be.