Chapter 21 #2
‘Urgh. It’s not. The last few days have all been a bit of a blur. I’ve barely had a moment to sit down and write anything. But, well, I’ve got twenty-four hours before the deadline and I had an idea on my walk earlier that I hope might make the piece vaguely interesting.’
‘You’re way too modest, you know. Speaking of which, me and Becky were chatting about how much you smashed it at the pub yesterday. Not just by getting us in the private dining room, but also putting that bastard developer in his place.’
I didn’t know if it was the crangria or the knowledge that Tom and Becky had been talking about me that was making my belly feel all warm and cosy.
‘I’m always happy to help.’
‘Yeah, you are, aren’t you? So, how are you doing after, y’know, this morning and everything?’
I still couldn’t believe that all of that had happened just this morning. Being in this restaurant with Tom felt like a different decade entirely.
‘I’m okay. It was so helpful going round to your mum’s place and chatting to her about everything – thanks for suggesting that.’
‘Honestly, there’s no need to thank me. Her years working at the playgroup were some of her happiest. I know she would’ve got a lot out of reminiscing about those times, too.’
‘She’s so amazing, Tom. I bet she made your childhood Christmases really special.’
‘Yeah, she absolutely tried her best. But, well, as I unsubtly hinted at the other night, my dad was a twat, regardless of the time of year.’
‘I’m guessing it’s not something you talk about that much?’
‘You’d be correct. But I kind of feel like I could tell you anything. Is that a bit weird?’
I felt a rush of recognition at his choice of words.
The very words that had screamed themselves loudly inside my own head just a few minutes ago.
I had the sudden compulsion to reach over the table, unbutton the top of his shirt and slip my hand down the back of it, rub the base of his neck with my thumb and tell him he could tell me anything, forever.
I wanted him to rewind back to his earliest memory and share every thought he’d ever had.
About his life. About all the books he’d read and words he’d written.
About what he made of the world. About what he made of me.
I’d quite happily sit here and listen to him all night – and some.
Instead, I gripped my glass tightly with the hand in question and replied simply, ‘No, I feel the same.’
‘Cool.’ He grinned widely and took another sip.
‘So, yeah, Christmases were fine, but it was usually just the three of us, although every so often my uncle would join us for the day and drink himself into a stupor until he and my dad would come to drunken blows. Mum would always stay sober so she could drive my uncle home. In the meantime, I had to stay and listen to my dad mouth off about what a dick his brother was.’
‘Urgh, not nice. Christmases can be a really shitty time for families, can’t they?’
‘Yeah, I mean they obviously had some unresolved stuff between them. But, in a way, I always admired my uncle for standing up to him.’
‘Your dad… he… wasn’t violent, was he? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.’
‘Nothing like that, no. But he had this knack for making absolutely everything about him. I mean, believe it or not, at first he even managed to make my mum’s condition about his bad luck.’
‘Fuck.’
‘Yeah, he’s a prick. And then he convinced me to study business, maths and biology at sixth form instead of the arts subjects I was obviously more interested in.
Never outright told me to do so, but there was this constant drip-drip-drip of derision about my writing and the “girly” books I used to read. ’
The more Tom spoke about his past, the more it all started to make sense.
His choice of A levels had been a massive disappointment for me at the time.
I’d always fantasised about how we’d bond over books and poetry in English literature, maybe even getting put on a project together like some kind of American teen rom-com where the jock falls for the nerd.
Alas, it hadn’t happened that way. But was something happening now? Who knew.
I suddenly noticed my hand was resting on his. I gave it what, on reflection, was a rather motherly pat before helping myself to an olive. They really were the tastiest olives I’d ever eaten.
‘I was always surprised you didn’t pursue English, I must admit,’ I said.
‘Oh? How come?’
I fished out the olive stone and started panicking as I realised I didn’t know where to put it. Tom noticed my floundering and casually spun the bowl around to reveal a small pit holder clinging to the side of it.
‘Thanks. Well, you always just seemed to genuinely enjoy the books. I remember when we were studying Pride and Prejudice at GCSE and you’d finished reading it during a single weekend.’
‘I’ve read it loads of times since, too. Always did have a bit of a soft spot for Elizabeth.’
I melted some more. I’d always identified with Lizzie Bennet. ‘Ooh, a crush on a literary character. Were you a secret nerd all along, Mr Brinton?’
‘I reckon I might have been, Ms Allister. C’mon, are you telling me you didn’t have any of your own literary longings?’
‘Well, there’s one that springs to mind, but it’s a little odd, to say the least.’
‘I’m listening.’
Was I really going to tell him this? Yes. Yes, I was.
‘Aslan.’
Tom snorted and collapsed into a fit of laughter, pounding his fist against the table, causing me to do the same.
At that moment the first flurry of dishes was brought to our table by one of the waiting staff, forcing us to collect ourselves.
I was relieved to see there were even numbers of everything, which immediately assuaged my small plates anxiety.
That said, if our fingers accidently brushed while reaching for the same croquette, I absolutely would not mind.
‘Thanks so much.’ We spoke the words simultaneously to the server through fading giggles.
‘Wow, this all looks amazing.’ I was already heaping my plate high with a selection of steaming yumminess.
‘Yeah, they’ve won tons of local awards. A table here is usually quite hard to come by, especially at this time of year. Seriously, though, the fucking lion?!’
I attempted to kick him under the table, but he somehow managed to grip my shin between his own legs in a way that stilled me, instantly.
‘I wouldn’t go that far. But, yeah, you’re out with a freak tonight.’
He looked right at me and released my leg. ‘I guess I like freaks then.’
He likes me. But everyone ‘likes’ Mally Allister, right? I wanted to excavate his response more, but my subject-changing instincts got in there first.
‘What a top client to have on your books, though. But I can’t get my head around something – surely if he’s your client, shouldn’t you be the one wining and dining Mateo ?’
‘An excellent observation.’ Tom glanced around before continuing in a quieter voice.
‘Let’s just say that we’ve had some tricky moments with this place over the years given that a restaurant in a flood-prone basement with zero accessibility for customers with disabilities isn’t exactly the easiest of buildings to manage, facilities-wise. ’
‘Shit, yeah, that explains why your mum can’t come here.’
‘Exactly. We’ve been trying to convince Mateo to move this branch above ground for years, but he won’t hear of it – it was his first one, and he’s very fond of the place. So, yeah, we work hard for him and this is one of his ways of thanking us each year.’
We ate for a couple of minutes, every mouthful being accompanied by a hedonic sound indicating the depth of our mutual enjoyment of the food. Once we’d cleared the first few plates they were discreetly removed. I ordered another jug of crangria.
Tom called after the waitress. ‘Oh, and a jug of water, please. So, how about your family Christmases? Would you be happy to tell me about them?’
Did I want to go there? I wasn’t sure. But there was only one way to find out.
‘Sure. They were, well, they were pretty simple, really. But there was something about them that felt really magical, too. It’s a hard feeling to describe, but they just made me feel…
tingly, I guess? Those three or four days from 23 December or so once my dad had finished work for Christmas were always so full of silly little traditions and endless banter.
Oh, and we had this longstanding family gag that one of us would give someone else a VHS of the film The Princess Bride every single year. ’
‘Great film, but random tradition?’
‘Yeah, it started off when my dad got given it two years running and exclaimed “Inconceivable!”’
‘Ha, classic.’
Another flurry of plates arrived, along with the crangria and water.
‘It was. And, of course, we all used to shout the word in unison whenever it got to that particular present on Christmas morning. Oh! And there was another year when Dad painstakingly devised a treasure hunt for his present to Mum. She was so excited to find out what it was… only to solve the final clue and discover a new iron in the boot of the car.’
‘You’re kidding?’
‘Nope, and she was pregnant with Livvie at the time. It was one of those moments that became part of the Allister family lore before, well, our family got ripped to shreds.’
Now it was Tom’s turn to place one of his hands on mine, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles. ‘And it’s never been the same since?’
My eyes stung with restrained tears but I kind of didn’t mind if they spilt out.
‘No, never. I mean, me and Josh were never that close to begin with, although once Livvie arrived we warmed up to each other a bit. She and him got on really well, as did me and her. So she was basically the glue between the two of us. But ever since the funeral we’ve barely had anything to do with each other. ’
‘I’m so sorry. And your parents?’
‘They’re plodding along okay. I see them a few times a year.
They’ve created a small but pleasant-enough life for themselves in the middle of nowhere.
Mum looks after a bunch of gardens in the local villages and Dad does some private accountancy work from home.
They’ve got some stunning hikes from their front door. Nature helps Mum, especially.’
I often pondered what she thought about on those long, solo walks. Whether she ever smiled when she was alone. Whether her inner voice ever spoke of anything other than the child who’d been stolen from her. From all of us.
‘That sounds peaceful,’ Tom said.
I swallowed a particularly delicious mouthful of seared, tender entrecote and took a deep breath before responding.
‘Honestly? I don’t think they’ve ever been at peace since Livvie died.
I don’t think any of us have. I mean, you saw me this morning, right?
Today’s probably the most I’ve ever confronted what happened.
We’ve got this unspoken rule between the four of us that we don’t talk about it.
Ever. I guess we all find it easier to carry on without having to go through the pain of acknowledging it all.
And I can’t stop myself from feeling like I’m to blame for all of it. ’
I hadn’t intended to say that final sentence, but once I’d started talking it’d leaked out.
‘What on earth are you talking about?’
My voice trembled as I replied in a whisper. ‘Yeah. Because the fact of the matter is, Tom, if I hadn’t been so selfish in Livvie’s final weeks, none of it would’ve happened.’