Nicole
Nicole
Nicole scours the cemetery grounds, trying to spot Andrew among the throng of people. She realises she hasn’t seen him since the end of the service, knows he is not with Nathaniel, who is still standing alone beneath a sycamore tree, staring at the ground as though fearful of making eye contact with anyone.
If Nathaniel wasn’t at the party, where was he that night?
The question repeats in Nicole’s head like a record stuck beneath the groove of a needle. But for now, she does not have time to entertain it. She needs to find Andrew, enlist his support in shepherding mourners to the wake.
Walking out through the cemetery arch and towards the road where they parked Andrew’s Tesla, Nicole experiences a sudden stab of irritation that perhaps he’s sitting in the car reading emails, or making work calls, when he should be at the cemetery, supporting Abby.
Nicole and Andrew have barely talked about Isla’s death in the fifteen days since it happened. There has been neither the space nor the time for the two of them to converse; Andrew has been at work – busier than ever – and Nicole has been comforting Abby, or being present for Nathaniel and Jack, trying to hold things together emotionally for them all. She has, in truth, felt too exhausted – too drained – to talk about things with Andrew.
Rounding the corner into the small cul-de-sac where they parked the car, she sees Andrew’s outline sitting in the driver’s seat, hunched over what is no doubt his mobile phone. Frustration needles her skin, and she strides towards the car, yanks open the passenger door, ready to castigate him for his absence. But as soon as she faces him, words temporarily elude her.
Inside the car, Andrew’s shoulders heave, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Nicole is aware of a momentary paralysis, unsure of herself suddenly. Sliding into the passenger seat, she closes the door behind her.
‘Are you okay?’
Andrew drags a hand across his eyes, wipes away his tears, forces his lips into an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry. I’m just finding today quite overwhelming.’ His voice wavers, and there is something out of kilter in it, like a badly tuned instrument trying to bring itself up to pitch.
Nicole hesitates, wishes the clock could be turned back, that they could return to a time before any of this happened. ‘I know. I still can’t get my head around it.’ She thinks of all the nights over the past two weeks that she has lain awake in the early hours of the morning, watching the minutes tick sluggishly by, going over and over the events of that evening, wishing it could have been different. Worrying about Abby and Clio, worrying about Nathaniel and Jack, possessed by an overpowering desire she has not experienced since the boys were little: the need to keep them close, watch over them, shield them from whatever adversity may come their way.
Glancing across at Andrew, expressions of panic and shame chase each other across his face. It is unlike anything she has seen before, in nineteen years of marriage. It is an expression that sends fear hurtling through her mind, dangerous suspicions she dares not entertain. She knows, instinctively, they have the power to unravel the stitching binding her family until there is nothing left beyond strands of loose thread.
For a brief moment – a split second in time – Andrew’s eyes dart towards hers and then away again, as though to hold her gaze puts them both in danger.
She studies his face, can read him like a book after all their years together, can feel something coming – an acknowledgement of guilt – but if it is what she fears, she does not want to hear it. If he is going to say what she suspects, she knows there is no way back for their family. She cannot allow him to do this to them.
But then Andrew buries his face in his hands, his shoulders wracked with fresh grief, his voice muffled through closed fingers. ‘I’m sorry. I never meant for it to happen. I don’t know what I was thinking. It was some kind of temporary madness. I’m so sorry.’
Waves of nausea wash over her, and she understands what he is telling her without him having to articulate it: a confession Nicole would not have believed possible were she not seeing the irrefutable proof on Andrew’s face. And she knows, in that moment, that everything has changed irrevocably, that there is nothing either of them can do now to halt the sequence of events he has put in motion.