Chapter Eighteen
Esme sits awkwardly on Lissa’s sofa, looking out of place in the flat.
She hardly ever comes here – in fact Lissa is pretty sure she can only remember her coming for the obligatory look around when she first moved in, years ago.
She’s aware of the damp in the corner of the living room, the stain on the rug from spilling something or other.
Not that she should worry about that, probably, given the state her mum’s house is so often in, but still.
She crosses to the sofa, holding two mugs, and hands her mum the milky tea, keeping the mint for herself.
Esme smiles as she takes it, and Lissa props herself awkwardly on the other side of the sofa.
Her mum is still in her blue nursing uniform, carrying with her the faint smell of antiseptic.
She looks tired, dark circles under the hazel eyes she shares with Lissa, her grey hair just a little greasy.
Lissa wonders sometimes which side of her mum the patients get to meet – whether she is a welcome presence on the ward.
Then tells herself that’s an awful thing to think.
‘Here,’ her mum says, reaching into her bag and producing a birthday card, along with a small wrapped present. ‘I wanted to get you a cupcake, too, you know, from the nice place next to the hospital, but they were all out.’
Lissa glances from the card to her mum’s pale face and back again.
‘That’s so nice, thanks, Mum.’ She takes the card and present, hesitating slightly before opening them.
They don’t usually do this – exchange gifts on birthdays.
The card is a simple balloon birthday card, with To Lissa, From Mum written inside.
The present is a selection of bracelets from Accessorize, gold and blue. Blue like the colour of Ash’s eyes.
No, Lissa.
‘These are so pretty.’ She slips them onto her wrist. ‘Thank you,’ she says again.
Her mum gives a little shrug of acknowledgement, takes a sip of her tea.
‘So how was work?’ Lissa asks.
‘Oh, you know. Tiring.’ Esme shifts on the sofa, angling towards her. ‘But on the subject of work … Mia told me you’re not very happy in your job.’
Bloody Mia. She’ll have to have a word. ‘Did she now? And what else did she say?’
‘Oh, not much really. But I just, I wanted to check … are you okay?’
The mug in Lissa’s hands stops part way to her lips.
She doesn’t really know how to answer that question.
Her mum has asked about her health a lot in the past, insisting on doctors’ appointments for every little thing when she was a teenager.
Lissa knows that even if she blames her for Chloe, her mum also worries about losing the only daughter she has left.
‘Yeah, Mum,’ she says slowly. ‘I’m okay.’
She decides not to bring up the past-life thing – her mum would have her straight to a psychiatrist.
‘And are you … happy?’ Just what exactly has Mia been saying to make her ask these questions?
‘I’m …’ But she doesn’t know how to finish that sentence.
Is she happy? She doesn’t think she’s unhappy.
And there are moments, of course, that are filled with joy – laughing with Darcy about something stupid, curled up on the sofa with Mia.
Dancing with Ash in the middle of some random pub.
No. Not Ash. Stop thinking about him, Lissa.
She settles with ‘I’m fine, Mum. Do you want a biscuit to go with the tea?’ She gets to her feet before Esme can answer, heading for the cupboard and the spare pack of digestives she has in case of emergency.
She holds out the packet to her mum, who takes one, staring down at it. ‘Lissa? Why did you stay in Bath?’
Lissa frowns as she comes back to the sofa. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you could have got a job anywhere. Moved to London or something. Or even gone travelling, like all you young people. So why didn’t you?’
‘Because …’ She sighs, unable to think of an excuse quickly enough. ‘Because you need me, Mum.’
Her mum peers over at her. Her eyes seem very clear, very focused today.
‘You know, I don’t remember much of what I said before …
before Christmas.’ It’s not very specific, but Lissa knows she’s talking about the latest ‘episode’, or whatever you want to call it.
When she told Lissa to get out, then begged her not to leave.
‘But I … I know you came to help me. So thank you for that.’ The words are a little stilted, but Lissa thinks they’re sincere.
She opens her mouth, shuts it again. Shoves a biscuit in her mouth so she doesn’t have to talk. They never usually address these things directly. Never usually talk about what happens when her mum gets lost like that. They put it behind them, move on. It’s the only way they know how to function.
‘I … I’m talking to someone,’ her mum continues. ‘Someone at work suggested it, and, you know, because I work for the NHS, I was able to get an appointment.’
Lissa is about to ask what appointment she means when she realises – therapy. Her mum is getting some kind of therapy.
‘I suppose what I’m trying to say is that, well, I’m trying.
To get better. To work on it. And that I’m sorry.
For not trying sooner. Anyway,’ she says abruptly, getting to her feet and effectively stopping – or saving – Lissa from responding to that, ‘I just popped round to give you your gift. And I’m sure you have plans this evening, don’t you? ’
Lissa nods. ‘I’m seeing Darcy and Mia for drinks.’
‘Well then.’ Esme sets her tea and uneaten biscuit down on the coffee table. Hesitates, then reaches over to give Lissa an awkward pat on the back. ‘Happy birthday. I’ll see you soon, okay?’
‘Okay. Thanks, Mum.’ And she watches her mum leave the flat, wondering what it means that she’s tried to talk to her, in even a small way, about this. If there’s a chance, maybe, that she’ll get better. Or if it’s only a matter of time before she spirals again.
‘She’s here!’ Darcy gets up from the corner table in the pub, where she’s sitting with Mia and a woman Lissa doesn’t recognise, with short platinum-blonde hair, high cheekbones and expertly applied gold eyeliner.
Lottie, she realises – this must be Lottie.
She told Mia to invite her, given that Lottie is only over from New York for the week, but Mia was very non-committal about the whole thing.
‘Happy birthday, sweets,’ Darcy says, pulling her into a hug before dragging her over to the table, where there are already three packets of crisps, and a bottle of white wine chilling in a cooler.
Mia hugs her too as she slides into the booth. ‘Happy birthday, Bissa.’ She pulls back, then gestures towards a smiling Lottie. ‘Lottie, this is Lissa.’
‘Lissa!’ Lottie has a brilliant New York accent, and she sounds totally delighted. ‘I’m so pleased to meet you! Thank you for letting me crash your birthday drinks.’
‘Of course. I’m so happy you came.’ Under the table, Lissa catches Mia taking Lottie’s hand in hers and squeezing.
Darcy fills the spare glass with wine, slides it over across the water-stained wooden table. ‘So … no Ash?’
‘Nope,’ Lissa says lightly, taking a sip of the Sauvignon. ‘Just us girls.’
‘Didn’t fancy inviting him, then?’
She chews the inside of her lip. ‘Ash and I … we’re taking a bit of a break.’
‘A break?’ Mia asks, while Lottie tears the crisp packets open so they lie flat on the table for everyone to help themselves to. ‘A break from what, exactly?
‘I don’t know. Our friendship? It was just getting a little …’ Lissa gestures with her wine glass. ‘Intense.’ Mia and Darcy exchange a look at that, though they say nothing.
She hasn’t really spoken to him since the night at the bar.
The night they kissed. She feels awful for the way she treated him, telling him he didn’t understand, when he’s clearly got his own stuff going on.
But it’s for the best, she’s sure of it.
She doesn’t want to get in deep with anyone, especially someone who might leave at any moment.
And it’s not like she can pick up and leave with him, is it?
Still, she woke to a message from him this morning. One that she’s already reread several times over the course of the day, despite the fact that it only consists of three words.
Happy birthday Lissa. X
‘So,’ she says, ‘I thought you’d both like to know that I am officially on the job hunt again.’
‘Excellent,’ Darcy says.
‘About bloody time,’ says Mia.
‘And I’m thinking – I’m going to start applying in the charity sector.
’ It was talking to Ash on their night out that reaffirmed it for her.
Listening to his passion for music, for what he does, and realising that she’d not spent enough time figuring out what she wanted.
And okay, this has nothing to do with art, but it’s a step towards her idea about helping kids like Rosy, like the kid she herself was.
Darcy cocks her head. ‘Like, more volunteering?’
‘No. Well, I mean, I’m going to keep doing the charity shop thing because it’s actually quite fun, but I mean more like switching to working in marketing for a charity.
’ A charity that deals with bereavement, preferably, but any step in that direction would feel like a positive one as far as she’s concerned.
And okay, she can’t jet off too far away, but she could do a commutable distance, couldn’t she, and still have her base here?
‘Well I think that’s an excellent idea,’ Mia says.
‘Much better than becoming a chef,’ Darcy agrees.
‘What’s wrong with chefs?’ Lottie asks.
Mia grins at her, and in that moment, she looks so damn happy that it makes Lissa want to hug them both. ‘Nothing,’ she says. ‘Only Lissa can’t cook.’
Lissa makes a fake-offended sound. ‘I can. My pesto pasta is to die for.’
‘What do you do?’ Darcy asks Lottie.
‘Work at a magazine, basically writing fluff pieces. Probably be out of a job in five years.’ It makes Lissa think of her dad’s claim that soon his job will be lost to AI, and she smiles a little.
Darcy holds up the empty wine bottle, makes a face.
‘I’ll order another one,’ Lissa says, getting to her feet.
She’s halfway to the bar when Mia sidles up next to her. ‘You don’t think I’m going to let you pay for drinks on your birthday, do you?’ She links her arm with Lissa’s, and they head the rest of the way to the bar together.
‘What about your job?’ Lissa asks after they’ve ordered the wine. Her cousin frowns at her in question. ‘A while ago it seemed like you might not be totally happy with it.’
Mia taps her fingers on the wooden bar. ‘It’s not the job I don’t like. It’s just going up and back to London all the time, it’s a bit tiring. And I …’ She glances back at Lottie, who has her head bent towards Darcy, already in easy conversation.
‘You want to have time to visit her?’ Lissa guesses.
‘Yeah,’ Mia mutters. ‘Something like that.’
At some point in the evening, possibly after the third bottle of wine, Darcy orders four tequila shots.
‘To birthdays!’
‘To job hunting!’
‘To aeroplanes!’ Everyone looks at Mia at that one, and she shrugs. Lottie, however, grins at her.
‘Another round of shots?’ Darcy asks.
‘Absolutely not,’ Lissa says. ‘We’re too old for all that.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ Lottie says brightly. ‘I’m not even thirty – I’ve got at least four more rounds in me.’
‘Regardless, I’m out,’ Lissa says. She hugs them all goodbye, whispering, ‘I like her,’ to Mia as she does. She opts to get an Uber home, figuring she’s too tipsy and it’s too late to manage the walk solo.
As she gets into bed, she reads the message from Ash one last time. A message that from anyone else would be disregarded as one of many. But because it’s from him, it makes her smile as she drifts into sleep.
Happy birthday Lissa. X
In her dream, she’s on Coney Island beach, the smell of salt water merging with that of hot dogs. Laughter rises around them, along with the sound of children screaming as they run through the waves. The air shimmers with heat, and the back of her neck pricks with sweat.
‘Sure I can’t tempt you into the water?’ he asks, grinning down at her from where he is propped on one elbow.
‘I told you, I don’t swim.’ Don’t sounds better than can’t – and best not to mention anything about the drowning nightmares.
She doesn’t want him to start worrying about her sanity, after all.
She flips onto her belly, the towel coarse on her exposed shins, and props herself up, tracing patterns in the sand.
‘So I was thinking,’ he says, and the tone of his voice makes her glance up at him. ‘Maybe I could stick around for a while.’
Her heart does a funny little spasm. ‘Stick around?’
‘In New York. I’ve got a bit of a name going for myself in the band now. I think I could find work here. And my dad – maybe it would be good for me to be around a bit more often for him.’
She nods slowly. He doesn’t talk much about his dad, but she knows he’s struggled since coming back from France.
‘What do you think?’ he prompts.
‘What do I think?’ She laughs, shakes her head. ‘Well of course I’d like you around more.’ Maybe that would mean things could progress between them. And if he stays, that would make it easier for her to stay too, wouldn’t it?
He grins, gets to his feet and holds out a hand. ‘Come on. Let’s walk.’
She allows him to pull her up, and the two of them walk barefoot along the shoreline. She’s not looking where she’s going, too caught up in wondering if he means it, if he’ll really stay this time, so she doesn’t notice the sharp shell on the sand until she steps on it.
She feels a slice of pain across her foot. Sees the blood. And feels the telltale ringing in her ears.
Not here, she thinks. Not now.
But her breathing is coming too fast. The blood is swelling from her foot, and she sinks to the ground, stretching it out in front of her to get a better look.
‘Ouch,’ he says. His hands on her calf. ‘It doesn’t look deep. I can find something to wrap it with. Hang on.’
But the words don’t register, and in front of her, the sea blurs on the horizon. She can’t breathe. There is a tingling sensation in her hands, her feet, and no matter how much air she sucks in, it’s not enough.
‘Hey. It’s okay,’ he’s saying, a hand on her back. ‘You’re okay.’
She’s breathing heavily as she wakes, her spine slick with sweat. Her heart is beating fast, like she really did have the panic attack.
She huffs out an impatient breath as she sits up in bed.
How is she supposed to move forward with her life if she keeps getting drawn to memories of the past, memories that she doesn’t even understand?
She still feels sure that there must be a reason she’s seeing all this.
A reason it’s happening now. But if it was triggered by the anniversary of Chloe’s death, why does she keep reliving her previous romances?
Maybe Saskia is right. Maybe it’s time to stop obsessing over the past and start thinking about her future.