Chapter 17 #2
I sighed. ‘If this is a truth session…’ Looking at her face, I rephrased it.
‘OK. Between you and me, yes. Of course I have. So many times…’ My voice petered out.
Once, Lizzie had got it out of me about Gareth’s infidelity, but only after I made her swear never to talk about it.
I forced a smile. ‘But I have also thought that if I hadn’t married Gareth, I wouldn’t have the boys. ’
‘Or maybe you would have,’ Lizzie persisted. ‘Only instead of looking like Gareth, they’d have looked like Adam.’
‘Oh, Lizzie… That doesn’t help,’ I said sadly. I’d never know what would have happened. ‘In any case, there’s no point talking about it now. I made the decision that felt right at the time. It’s in the past.’
‘What about the future?’ Lizzie wasn’t giving up. ‘Is what you have with Gareth enough? I mean, he had an affair. I don’t think I could ever have got over that.’
I rearranged the pillows behind her. ‘We just got on with life. You were planning your wedding and Mum wasn’t well.’ I shrugged. ‘After Mum was diagnosed, I was busy looking after her. Any problems Gareth and I had didn’t seem important.’
Lizzie looked troubled. ‘Don’t you think it was a sign, Tills? That neither of you have been happy? And I know Gareth’s incapable of articulating anything related to his emotions, but not you. You’re not like that.’
When it came to signs, it would hardly have been the first. It was no wonder I was confused.
I mean, my entire life was littered with signposts which I’d ignored at every junction, instead leaving them uprooted, scattered in my wake.
‘Actually,’ I said slowly. ‘He did. Just once. At your wedding. He was watching you and Rick together. He commented on how happy you looked. I think he was envious. It was like as though he’d realised he and I had never felt like that. ’
She looked uncertain. ‘He was probably just looking at my tits.’ She glanced down at her chest. ‘I still had them back then, didn’t I?’ Her voice wavered.
‘He probably was,’ I said gently, remembering the way his eyes had lingered on her. ‘But I’d say your first assessment was more accurate. As you said, when it comes to emotions, Gareth is somewhat limited.’
‘Which brings me back to what I was saying.’ Lizzie looked earnest. ‘Why are you sacrificing your happiness for him?’
I was used to Lizzie being direct. But… ‘Sacrificing?’ I frowned.
‘Why do you stay together?’ She stared at me. ‘Just imagine for a moment, if you were free, Tilly. What would you do with the rest of your life?’
Free… I closed my eyes, felt a smile on my lips, for a moment tasting how freedom used to feel.
But it vanished just as quickly. My carefree, teenaged years were long gone.
Real, adult life had obligations, commitments – didn’t it?
Opening my eyes, I looked at Lizzie. ‘In answer to your question…’ I faltered.
But it was one of those defining moments.
When Lizzie’s days were running out, the thought of simply going through the motions for the rest of my days, felt terribly wrong. ‘Can I get back to you on that?’
Suddenly needing air, I got up and went over to the window. Pushing it open, I gazed out onto the pretty cottage garden Lizzie and Rick had planted. A garden that the way things were going, would long outlive her.
‘Tilly.’ There was impatience in my sister’s voice.
I turned to look at her. ‘Yes?’
‘You’re lucky. You still have time.’ She paused. ‘Please… make sure you don’t waste it.’
‘Staying with Gareth, you mean?’ I went back over and sat on the floor again.
‘It isn’t for me to tell you whether to stay with him or not. You’re the only one who knows what matters most to you.’
I sighed. It was a sigh of frustration, of feeling stuck. Of having too many thoughts in my head, not least about Lizzie. ‘I will work it out. I promise you.’
‘You’d better.’ She sounded less anxious. ‘Otherwise, you know what will happen, don’t you?’
I looked at her warily. ‘I’m not sure what you mean.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘If you’re not meant to be with Gareth – and believe me, you’re not.
Damn it… I promised myself I wouldn’t say that.
But I have. Anyway, what I was going to say is as far back as when you first met Adam, like I said, I think he was a sign.
You weren’t meant to ignore it, but you did.
It’s only a matter of time before there’s another plot twist.’
‘On the subject of plot twists, I saw him again,’ I said quietly.
‘Adam?’ She stared at me. ‘You haven’t told me that, either.’ She looked indignant. ‘Anything else I ought to know?’
I hedged. There probably were one or two small things but they could wait. ‘Actually, I’ve seen him a couple of times. The first time, he was with his wife.’
Lizzie’s eyes were like saucers. ‘What was she like?’
‘Believe it or not, she was a bit like me.’ I shook my head. ‘She even had the same colour hair. I bet she’s a hub, too.’ I hadn’t meant to say the last bit out loud.
Lizzie gave me an odd look. ‘A hub?’
I shrugged. ‘A hub is someone who’s at the centre of other people’s lives. I always picture them as the person holding the strings of all these brightly coloured balloons floating around them.’ As she looked at me blankly, I went on. ‘The balloons are everybody else’s lives.’
‘You’re talking about you, aren’t you?’
I shrugged. ‘It’s a good analogy, don’t you think?’
A smile twitched on Lizzie’s lips. ‘So what colour’s the hub?’
‘Beige,’ I said immediately. ‘Not cool neutral beige. We’re talking murky dingy beige – kind of unwashed looking.’
Lizzie was silent, then her shoulders started to shake – I assumed with laughter, until I saw she was crying.
‘Don’t cry, Lizzie.’ Shuffling closer from where I was still sitting on the floor, I reached up and put my arms around her.
Lizzie wiped her tears away. ‘You have no idea, do you?’
‘No.’ I was genuinely perplexed.
‘Dearest Tilly, you are not beige.’ Her eyes gazed into mine. ‘You are the loveliest, most rainbow-coloured person in the world.’
Overwhelmed, I wasn’t aware of the tears streaming down my face.
Was that how Lizzie saw me? As heart-warming moments go, it was a stonker.
One that shattered my heart into thousands of pieces.
But as Lizzie held me in her arms and my body shook with sobs, I could already feel them start knitting themselves back together again, as I realised that this was a gift – in more ways than I knew.
Glued together with Lizzie’s love, my heart was stronger.
It was just as well. Within just two weeks, Lizzie was growing weaker. Knowing time was running out, I went to see my dad.
‘I don’t think Lizzie has long,’ I said gently. ‘A few days maybe.’
He stared out through the window. ‘Has someone told you that?’
‘Dad…’ I went over and stood beside him. ‘They don’t need to. She’s really weak.’
‘I’m praying,’ he said quietly. ‘That our Lord will let her live. If she doesn’t, then we just have to accept that this is His will.’
Standing there, my head filled with all these things I wanted to say to him. Lizzie isn’t religious… God wasn’t a lot of help when Mum died… He has no right to decide if Lizzie does… I bit them back; my father’s faith was absolute. ‘I just thought you’d want to see her.’
He went that afternoon. They spent quiet hours together and I’ll never know what was said.
But I was grateful at least that Lizzie found a tentative sense of peace with the ending of her life.
Then by late July, my sister, soulmate, my heart, my rock, had gone, leaving this world a colder, darker place without her.