Chapter 20 #2
‘Goldfinches like niger seeds.’ Her voice is steady – the easy rhythm it finds when she talks about birds. ‘Put niger seeds out if you want to attract them to your garden.’ And then she turns to Lucy, her hazel eyes studying her, eyebrows pinched in concentration.
‘Thank you,’ Lucy says, her face breaking into a huge, beautiful smile. ‘I will.’
And just like that, I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe in all the way.
Gilly is still studying her. ‘I’ve met you before,’ she says eventually, and I think it’s a question, even though it doesn’t sound like one.
Lucy shakes her head, the action freeing a curl from behind her ear. ‘No. This is the first time.’ Her eyes dart to me for a moment, just a split second, and it makes something somersault in my chest. ‘But I hope I can come and see you again.’
I’m pretty sure she’s just saying it to appease Gilly in this moment, but God I hope that too. For a few seconds I let my brain go to a dangerous place: I let it think about how nice it would be to have someone to share this with.
And by someone, I obviously mean Lucy. I can’t imagine wanting to do this with anyone else.
It’s crazy – I realise that. We’ve been safe in our little bubble since last night, but it’s bound to burst at some point. This time tomorrow, Lucy will be on her way home, and who knows if we’ll ever see each other again.
I mean, is a relationship between us even a possibility?
It’s not a question I would have asked myself two days ago, but a lot has changed since then.
I know that we barely know each other, and that we’re not at all into the same things, and that she’s mortal and I’m not.
It’s just that the more I get to know about her the less those things seem to matter.
Somewhere along the line I’ve forgotten my golden rule about falling for a human, and it’s entirely because the more she shows me about the kind of person she is, the more I’m certain that that’s the kind of person I want in my life.
I’m not even that scared of Mina anymore. Even she couldn’t get mad about this.
I shove my hands into my jacket pockets and am distracted when my fingers find the hard shape of the pebble I picked up yesterday. I fish it out and put it in Gilly’s hand.
‘This is from Stephen,’ I say, as she looks down at it. ‘He’s at sea now, but he wanted me to bring it to you.’
She can never remember that my dad is dead, and after the first few times of breaking her heart all over again, I gave it up completely.
She remembers him, but as he was back then, and I don’t have the heart to correct her anymore.
Instead I bring her a token from the sea every time I visit.
I’m quite sure that must be where the essence of him is these days anyway, particularly after we scattered his ashes off the side of a fishing boat a mile offshore.
I found this pebble on the beach yesterday, noticing the heart-shaped hollow worn into it by the waves. It felt like I was meant to find it – to bring it to her here. I don’t know if she remembers the beach, but I remember. I’ll remember enough for the both of us.
‘He’ll be home soon,’ she says, turning the pebble over in her hands, her fingertips finding the groove.
I nod, swallowing back the wave of grief as it hits me. ‘He will,’ I say, and then I try like hell not to cry like a baby in front of the two of them.
‘You’re good with her,’ I say to Lucy later, as we walk back along the corridor.
Our half an hour with Gilly was lovely, but she doesn’t have the stamina for long visits these days, and so I always like to go before I tire her out too much.
We leave her merrily chatting away to her birds, a smile on her face that wasn’t there when we walked in.
I try not to think about how long it will last.
Lucy’s hand slips into mine. ‘My grandpa was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s when I was a teenager.
The nurses were brilliant. They taught me and Nana how to talk to him – how to help him communicate.
But he had a heart attack before it could get really bad.
’ There’s a flinch in her expression, old pain worn into the lines in her face.
‘It must be scary for her,’ she says, ‘not remembering.’
My heart squeezes. ‘Yeah.’
‘And scary for you, too, losing her so slowly.’
‘Yeah,’ I mutter again, my voice catching in my throat. Because that’s exactly it. With my dad, it was brutal, but pancreatic cancer is fast. He was there, and then a few weeks later he wasn’t. But Gilly’s fading from me piece by piece, a memory at a time, and it’s heartbreaking.
What good will eternity be when the people I love are gone?
Lucy’s hand squeezes mine gently, her voice like a balm on my soul. ‘She calls you Liam.’
There’s something close to a smile on my face when I nod. ‘Everyone did, when I was a kid. Bram came later, when I went to the dark side.’ I gesture to my outfit with a hoarse chuckle. When I look at her, her face is serious, and focused on me. ‘No one calls me Liam now, except her.’
‘She remembers the before.’
I nod. ‘She does.’
Lucy’s breath out is soft, and there’s a world of understanding in her expression. ‘You’re kind of difficult to forget,’ she says gently, and everything about it – her words, the way she’s holding my hand, the careful smile on her face – makes me unable to stop myself from pulling her into my arms.
‘Thank you, Lucy Partridge,’ I mutter into her hair, tightening the grip of my arms around her like she’s my lifeline.
‘You’re welcome, Liam Bramwell,’ she whispers back, and for some reason, hearing her say my full name doesn’t make my skin crawl like it usually does.
It makes me feel like I’m coming home.