Chapter Twenty-One
It was rare for Enya to have slept badly.
Rarer still that she’d watched the hands of the clock go around until the early hours.
Her mind, apparently, intent on forcing her to live the day about to dawn in a thousand different ways, predicting a thousand different outcomes, all with the most dramatic, terrifying, and humiliating of endings.
The least scary scenario was her being run over by Trish, who chased her in a car.
Once or twice, she enjoyed the luxury of brief slumber before a nightmare ensued, this time with Trish hauling her out of her house and inviting her to a duel.
It would have been comical, the thought of the two of them, mothers of the bride and groom, to so debase themselves, had it not had its feet in the merest hint of possibility.
She had taken an uncharacteristic age to choose what to wear, desperately wanting to strike the right tone between haven’t bothered at all, I just rolled out of bed looking this way and I tried too hard and stand here in sequinned evening wear having totally misjudged the situation.
In the end, she opted for her comfy jeans, turned up above her ankle, new stone-coloured Converse that were gloriously fresh, and a short black and ecru checked smock from Toast that was cut generously and fell away from her body at the waist. It was as much about comfort as it was her look, knowing that to feel happy in her skin meant she was more likely to feel in control.
Her curls were behaving and that alone was something to feel thankful for.
There was no way to wriggle out of the plan, agreed as it was that she would travel to The Mount, the Sutherlands’ house that sat on the ridge of a valley looking down over Bath.
The circumstances of the invitation were still etched in her mind, the memory of which made her flush with the uncomfortable warmth of guilt.
The prospect of seeing Dominic again was not something she relished, not under these circumstances, where she was fearful of saying or doing something that might reveal their duplicity.
Just the thought made her feel grubby.
Aiden had not yet ventured home, having stayed with Iris all week, and, as he had the car, had agreed to collect her from the train station.
Enya didn’t mind the rigmarole, it meant she didn’t have to worry about navigating the narrow country lanes, and she wouldn’t have to arrive alone.
A thought that for some reason always unsettled her, turning up somewhere new or unfamiliar.
It was another thing that Jonathan did, offering her his arm whenever they arrived anywhere, as if he instinctively understood.
It broke her heart that she hadn’t seen him. Not since the moment Dominic had left via the front door. She’d tried calling to him, writing to him and leaving a note on the kitchen table.
My love . . . come back to me . . . here I am . . . I miss you . . . come back to me, Jonathan . . .
She’d even howled her apology, crying as her bath-water grew tepid, and she felt the loneliest she had since he died, and the most alone. It felt like punishment for admitting to her feelings for Dominic and was a cruel lesson to learn.
For the last two years, Aiden and Holly had been ever present despite living across town, occasionally staying over, popping in for cups of tea, calling with innocuous updates on their day, all very mundane.
Yet this contact, their voices and texts, the gentle oil that greased her cogs, had fuelled her will to keep going and had been the thing that got her up and moving every day.
Cooking for them was a diversion. The sound of their feet running up and down the stairs, their laughter filtering back from the kitchen, even the nauseating smack of their smooching at every greeting or goodbye – they were the sounds of life that ushered out any threat of isolation.
They meant that life carried on, and even though she might still feel every day as if she were wading through treacle, sounds muted, motivation a little lacking, these kids and their presence were a reminder that she was still there.
Still human, even if she felt a little otherworldly, as if she were on the outside of the world looking in.
Jenny had been a huge part of that life, connected to her via their kids, but so much more than that, the person she called in the early hours, the woman who had made her tea when she’d arrived home alone from the hospital, having reluctantly had to leave Jonathan’s body where it lay.
Jenny was the person she texted with nothing to say, just because.
She was her friend, her very best friend, and the loss of her cut her as deeply as any grief.
Hardest to accept was that her life, yet again, seemed to have changed all at once, given Aiden’s understandable preoccupation with Iris. Holly, broken and in hiding. Dominic, at her insistence, closing the book on their story before it had started, and Jonathan... Jonathan gone.
As happened, sometimes she forgot to take a breath and felt the air jump in her throat.
It felt a lot like sobbing without the tears, as her old friend panic paid her a visit.
Leaning on the kitchen sink, she closed her eyes and took a minute until her breathing settled and the feelings of fear and anxiety passed.
The last thing she wanted to deal with this morning was a panic attack.
Angela had been checking in with regularity, softly asking leading questions that without the intensity of the moment when Enya had called her were a little uncomfortable for them both.
‘Have you seen anyone?’
‘No. I haven’t seen anyone. ’
Whether her sister referred to Jonathan or Dominic was neither here nor there. Her answer was just the same.
A quick glimpse at the clock and she knew it was time to head off to the station, no more than a brisk fifteen-minute walk.
‘Keys, phone, bag, purse, mints, water bottle, lip balm.’ She still spoke aloud as if her husband were near enough to be kept informed. Running through her mental checklist to make sure all was in order.
Pickle was in the kitchen sun puddling, having found a warm spot on the kitchen floor.
‘Pickle, I’m going out. I’ll be back later.
If you need a poo, use your tray. You’ve had your breakfast and I’ll get your supper when I get home.
You can go out via your cat flap if you want, but don’t go too far.
Be good. No parties. No running up phone bills.
Do not open the door to strangers; if you hear a noise, call the police, and stay away from the drinks cupboard.
There’s money at the back of the tea-towel drawer for emergency taxis or a pizza.
If you call me, I can be home in a flash. ’
She smiled as she gave the same dire warnings her parents used to issue whenever she and Angela were left home alone.
Angela’s eyes would light up, as if their mother’s words were a reminder that booze and pizza money were within reach, whereas Enya would simply make a promise, drawing a cross over her heart. ‘Don’t worry, Mummy.’
A good girl. Always.
Grabbing her Radley, she was about to shut the internal door when she heard a knock.
It was an inconvenience, as well as making her gut bunch at the prospect of encountering Phil on the rampage.
Or maybe it was Jenny, full of words of love and forgiveness?
Still Enya hoped. It was, however, lovely to see this visitor, no matter how inopportune the timing.
‘Holly, hello, darling! Come in, come in!’
She had been telling the girl to pop by whenever, explaining how she would always be there for her, and therefore felt unable to immediately mention that she was about to leave the house.
‘Is... is he here?’ Holly looked timidly towards the staircase, again her loss of vivacity shocking.
‘No, my love. He’s not. Come through.’
It was strange how, in such a short period of time, Holly moved through the cottage with hesitancy, as if she no longer had a right to be there.
‘Do you want a drink, my love?’ Enya pointed at the kettle.
Holly shook her head and Enya breathed out with relief that coasted on a trickle of guilt. ‘Sit down!’
Holly sat at the table, and almost immediately Pickle jumped up on to her lap and nestled in for a cuddle. Holly held her close, kissing her head and running her hand along the length of her spine. ‘I missed you, little Picks.’
‘She’s missed you.’ It felt like the right thing to say.
‘I was at Mum and Dad’s, but Mum’s fussing and driving me nuts. I just wanted to come over. Haven’t seen you since you heard the news.’
‘Yes, and wow, it’s some news.’ She borrowed a wow from Angela. ‘It’s wonderful, Holly, really. I know it’s not the most ideal of circumstances and I can’t imagine how much harder it’s made everything, but in time it will only be wonderful.’
‘Maybe.’ Holly looked less than convinced. ‘Have you and Mum had a falling out?’
A simple enough question, which revealed that Jenny might not have been entirely forthright with her daughter. As ever, Enya took Jenny’s lead.
‘Not really, no,’ she forced a smile, ‘it’s just that things are a bit tricky for everyone right now, we’re all getting used to this new state, and trust me, Holly, I wish we didn’t have to.’
‘Do you?’ Holly asked, eyes wide, and Enya could only answer in truth without revealing the torment of having to exist with a foot in both camps, pulled brittle by the effort.
‘I do.’
The girl beamed, as if this was all the inclusivity she needed.
‘I want to ask how you’re feeling, but I’m aware it’s such a rubbish question to be asked when you’re feeling low. What can I say instead?’ She gave it a moment of thought. ‘How about, I’m concerned for how you’re feeling, I’m thinking about you all the time, sending you love.’
‘Thank you, Enya.’
‘I hope it helps, to know that.’
‘It really does.’ The young woman looked up, a chance for Enya to take in the dark half-moons of distress that sat beneath her bloodshot eyes. ‘I thought when he found out I was pregnant, he might want to come back to me. I guess I hoped that.’
‘Of course you did.’ The girl’s words were as pitiful as they were relatable.
‘But he didn’t.’ Holly shook her head and buried her face briefly in Pickle’s fur.
‘I dream he’s still mine, Enya, and there are brilliant moments when I forget what’s happened, and I picture us with the little one, going to the park and playing on the Downs.
But when I wake up and he’s not there, it’s like,’ her face screwed up as if even the memory of it were painful, ‘it’s like. ..’
‘I know.’ Enya bent down and placed her hand on Holly’s knee.
‘I do know. I still get two mugs out in the morning when I make a cup of tea, I order a large cod and chips from the chippy because we always used to share it. I see a shirt and think, ooh I might get that for Jonathan. And I always put a glass of wine next to mine, for him. Lots of little things.’
Holly nodded. ‘I get that. I suppose the difference is that Jonathan would never have left you. He loved you so much.’
Enya felt quite moved by the reminder, conflicted too for the way she had fallen into Dominic’s arms so freely.
It only ladled guilt into her veins, which already ran thick with the stuff.
Not helped by the fact that it only mirrored Aiden’s actions, his deceit, with which she was less than comfortable.
‘But Aiden isn’t dead, he just doesn’t want me.
And I don’t want to say the wrong thing, but it’s harder to understand in some ways, harder for me to get my head around.
Not that I want Aiden dead, of course not, but I can’t tell you how much it’s hurt me, the fact that he’s not gone, just gone from me.
’ Her words tailed off as tears robbed her of speech.
Enya wondered if Trish might have said something similar had she been party to her conversation with Dominic across this very table. Her gut rolled at the prospect of having to interact with her later.
‘Oh, Holly.’ Enya let her cry and rubbed her leg. ‘I am so sorry, my love, but I’m going to have to go and catch a train,’ she silently prayed the girl didn’t ask where she was heading or why, ‘but you can stay here if you want. There’s no need for you to rush off, just because I have to.’
No sooner had the words left her mouth than she regretted them, entirely unsure of the right thing to do, to say, as again she faltered on the tightrope between supporting this young pregnant girl and loyalty to her son.
The boundaries of their relationship had undoubtedly shifted, and she was unsure if she had overstepped them or where Aiden would draw the line.
It was new and confusing, as she figured out how to pave this new path with the girl who was carrying her grandchild, a girl who was more than a little broken.
‘Is that okay?’ Holly perked up.
‘Yup, uh-huh.’ Enya grabbed her handbag, the one Holly and Aiden had bought her. ‘You know where everything is. Help yourself to food, of course. Sit in the garden, nap on the sofa, cuddle Pickle, do whatever you want. Rest. Just shut the door behind you when you leave.’
Holly nodded. ‘I will, thank you, Enya.’
‘Any time – we love you Holly Hudson, Pickle and I. That will never change.’
She watched as Holly’s head fell forward and she cried, almost silently, as if it were a natural state for her of late.
It was a desperate and affecting thing to witness, realising in that moment that she had forgotten to add Holly Hudson to the list of people who had slipped or were slipping out of reach, and her heart lurched.
She wished it were possible to fast-forward a few months, to a time when things, hopefully, would have settled a little for Holly.
This thought was immediately followed by the realisation that in a few months, Aiden and Iris would be married and Holly would be very pregnant.
How would she face it all without Jenny on side?
It was an unbearable thought. Enya suddenly felt the pull of exhaustion, realising that this state of high energy, a life with so many moving parts, where chaos seemed to reign, wasn’t going to end any time soon.
‘I really have to go now, my love.’
‘It’s okay.’ Holly sniffed. ‘I’m just going to lie on the sofa with Picks, and sleep.’
‘That sounds like a good idea.’
And in this regard, Enya truly envied her.