Chapter Twenty-Seven
On the first Sunday in July, Mia is waiting for her outside her mum’s house.
She’s dressed in denim dungarees, her freckles more prominent, the way they always are in the sun.
She smiles at Lissa, lifting her free hand, the other holding a bag of groceries.
It’s too hot, really, for a roast today, but tradition prevails.
‘You look awful,’ Mia says by way of greeting when Lissa reaches the front door.
‘Why thanks, great to see you too.’ She actually tried to make herself look less awful this morning – put on a nice dress, dabbed concealer under her eyes. No fooling her cousin, apparently.
Mia looks her up and down. ‘I take it the weekend away did not go well.’
Lissa grimaces despite herself. She got back from Cornwall nearly two weeks ago now.
Ash had come after her on the beach, but she’d insisted on driving home first thing in the morning.
Bar the journey to the hospital, following the ambulance, all those years ago, it had been the worst car journey of her life.
She kept nearly crying, he kept asking what was wrong, she kept being unable to explain.
It ended with a stiff goodbye – and she hasn’t heard from him since.
As much as she’s told herself that that’s for the best, that she’s done the right thing, she hasn’t been able to make herself feel it.
She’s not been sleeping well since, either – she keeps being dragged into nightmares every time she closes her eyes, worse than they’ve ever been before.
And they’re not just about drowning this time.
She sees her deaths – and his – on repeat each time she closes her eyes.
She’s called in sick at work for over a week, sending Darcy vague explanations.
She misses him. They’ve gone longer than this without speaking, but she misses the idea of him, misses texting him, misses wondering when she might be able to see him again. Maybe that shows that she caught it just in time to stop the mistakes of the past repeating themselves.
Although there’s still a part of her wondering why. Why are they destined to meet, to fall in love, to die, over and over? Is this really about punishment? Or is the universe trying to tell them something?
‘Shall we?’ Lissa asks, gesturing at the house. Mia scrutinises her, then nods, apparently accepting that she doesn’t want to talk about it.
The house smells different as they head inside. Something lemony lingers on the air. It seems tidier, too – like there is less clutter.
They find Esme in the kitchen. She smells of that same lemon scent. She’s been cleaning, Lissa realises. And outside the back door, the garden is different too. The lawn seems, if not freshly mown, then at least mown in the last few weeks.
‘Girls!’ she exclaims. ‘Lovely to see you!’ Like it’s a surprise that they’re here as opposed to a long-standing arrangement.
Lissa clocks fresh brushstrokes of paint on a section of the kitchen wall.
Teal, light blue, green, over the old whitewash.
Is her mum thinking of redecorating? She sees Mia notice it too, though after a quick exchange of glances they both look away, like it’s something wild they don’t want to confront directly, for fear of scaring it.
They cover the usual bases as they cook – their jobs, the nice weather. As they are getting everything together, Esme announces that they ought to eat outside.
‘It’s such a nice day. And I’ve bought a new garden table.’ She gestures out the back door to where there is indeed a new patio table, complete with chairs. It’s simple – white plastic – but still, this has got to be the first new thing she has bought for the house in years.
‘Sure,’ Lissa says. It’s a little odd, perhaps, to eat a roast outdoors in summer, but what the hell?
She thinks of Ash – maybe she’s inherited a bit of his why not attitude.
Then she forces herself not to think of him, because it only makes her sad.
And leads her back to the question of why – why does she find him in every lifetime, only to lose him?
‘Fab.’ Fab? Lissa can’t stop another exchange of looks with Mia at this. She doesn’t think she’s heard her mum say fab in her entire life. ‘Mia, do you mind taking the plates out?’
‘Of course.’ Mia takes the offered plates before stepping out into the garden.
Lissa goes to get cutlery, but her mum stops her. ‘Lissa, wait. I …’ She bites her lip, her gaze darting out to the garden and back again. She lifts her hands to flatten her hair. Nerves, Lissa realises – and feels her own coil in her gut at whatever she’s about to say.
‘Lissa,’ Esme begins again, her tone almost formal. ‘I need to apologise to you.’
‘For what, exactly?’ Lissa asks.
Esme shifts from foot to foot, smooths down the front of her skirt with her palms. ‘I …’ She swallows. ‘I shouldn’t have blamed you.’ Her words are quiet but steady.
Lissa stills – and it’s as if the kitchen itself stills with her. This is not supposed to happen on these visits. They never talk about it. She tries to think of something to say, comes up blank. All she can remember is the last time her mum had a bad turn.
It’s your fault.
‘I couldn’t cope,’ her mum continues, looking down at her feet, encased in white pumps. ‘You know that, of course. But I … I couldn’t face the fact that it was my fault. I was the mother, the responsible one. But I …’ She sucks in a breath. ‘You were there.’
‘I know.’ Lissa’s throat is tight as she gets the words out.
‘No, that’s not what I …’ Esme blows out an audible breath.
‘Your dad, he blamed me. And I couldn’t take it.
I couldn’t face it.’ Her eyes, so like Lissa’s, flick up now.
‘But I shouldn’t have done that to you. I shouldn’t have made you live with it.
I should have been the parent.’ She closes her eyes briefly.
‘I suppose, losing Chloe, it was like I lost that part of me too.’
She’s practised this. It doesn’t have the polished air of most rehearsed speeches, but Lissa can tell she’s been building up to it. For how long? she wonders. And still she can think of nothing to say.
It’s your fault.
‘You must blame me too,’ her mum says, pulling at her skirt now.
‘I don’t …’ But Lissa trails off. Know what you mean was how she was going to finish the sentence.
But she does know, of course she does. Because there have been times over the years, haven’t there, when she’s hated her mum.
Hated that she’d left Lissa in charge. Because if she hadn’t done that, it wouldn’t have happened.
Social services deemed it an accident, after the investigation.
But it was an accident that could have been avoided.
And worse than that, darker than that, are the thoughts she has tried to repress about Chloe.
Because in her desperation not to blame herself, a part of her sometimes blames her sister.
For climbing over the fence, getting into the pond.
She hates that part of her. But no matter how much she hates it, she can’t stop it creeping in when she is at her most vulnerable.
‘But you never said it,’ her mum continues.
‘You never told me it was my fault. And that made it easier to convince myself it wasn’t.
I’ve been so horrible,’ she whispers, and there are tears in her eyes.
‘I know that, Lissa. I don’t know why you stuck around.
’ Lissa watches her mum’s throat bob. ‘But I wanted to tell you – I’m grateful that you did. ’
There is quiet between them. Lissa’s hands are clammy on the cutlery she’s holding. She blows out a breath, tries to relieve the pressure in her chest. ‘Therapy going well, then?’ she asks, because it is literally all she can think to say.
Her mum, thankfully, laughs. ‘Well, I’m trying.’
‘I suppose that’s all any of us can do,’ Lissa says.
‘Try.’ But is it really enough? She wonders if her mum is expecting her to accept the apology – she wonders if she wants to accept it.
But you can’t just change years and years of blame and guilt in one conversation, can you?
And she wonders, too, if her mum will turn, the next time it all gets too much.
Thankfully, her mum claps her hands, abruptly ending the conversation. ‘Let’s eat, shall we?’ It’s a good attempt at a bright tone, though Lissa can still see the tears shimmering there.
‘Yeah,’ Lissa says. ‘Yeah, okay.’
‘I’ll join you outside in a min. I just need the loo.’ Esme turns then, walking from the kitchen, and Lissa hears the creak of the stairs. She suspects her mum is going to pull herself together, and is glad of the breathing space.
She heads to the garden, where Mia is sitting on one of the chairs, table partially laid.
‘All okay?’ Mia asks, a little cautiously. ‘I sensed a moment and thought it best to keep my distance.’
Lissa snorts her agreement at that. In a nearby lavender bush, left to its own devices over the years, honeybees go about their work.
‘Yeah,’ she says. She rakes her hand through her hair.
‘I mean …’ she glances over her shoulder to check they’re still alone, ‘she sort of … apologised. For Chloe, I mean. Or not for it, but for, well, blaming me.’ She chews on her lip as she says it, not totally sure how to process that conversation.
‘About time.’ It’s muttered, almost under Mia’s breath, and the words sound a little bitter.
More bitter than Lissa herself feels. She scans her cousin’s face, noticing the purpling circles under her eyes.
Tired. Mia has brushed it off before, saying it’s a result of too many transatlantic phone calls with Lottie, but …
‘Mia, are you okay?’
She taps her fingers on the plastic table. ‘I’m just pissed off that it took her so long.’
‘Well,’ Lissa says, in her best diplomatic voice, ‘she had—’
‘Oh for God’s sake, Lissa,’ Mia snaps. ‘You don’t need to keep defending her.’
Lissa’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘I’m not defending her, I’m—’
‘You are. You’re defending her and you’re punishing yourself, the way you always do.’
‘Mia, I was the one who—’
‘It was an accident!’ Mia gets to her feet at this, like she can’t stay still.
She crosses to Lissa, takes her hands. ‘An accident, Bissa. And Esme … she’s put all this weight on you, blamed you because she couldn’t stand to blame herself – and you have let her.
’ She practically spits the last few words.
Lissa pulls her hands away, feeling it like a gut punch, because Mia is supposed to be the one who understands.
She shakes her head, not really a denial, but enough of one that Mia says, ‘You have. You’ve let it define you.
You don’t let yourself be happy because you don’t think you deserve to be.
You’ve done it your whole life – and you’re doing it again, with Ash. ’
His name is like a spear to the heart. ‘How do you know what—’
‘I don’t need to. I don’t need you to explain, because I know you, Lissa. Because it’s so fucking predictable. It’s what you do, again and again.’ A pattern, Lissa thinks, despite herself. A different sort of cycle she’s stuck in.
‘You said this with Mark.’ She is trying, so hard, to keep her voice level.
‘Okay, fine, I was wrong about Mark. He wasn’t for you. But maybe Ash is. Maybe he’s your bloody soulmate or whatever, but even if he is, you won’t open yourself up to it.’
The word soulmate reverberates through her. Mia has no idea just how right she is.
‘You don’t believe in all that,’ she says instead. Which is part of the reason she can’t explain. ‘Do you?’
‘I don’t.’ Mia sighs. ‘But the basic facts remain.’ She still sounds bitter. Angry.
‘Why are you so mad at me?’ Lissa asks, in more of a snap than she intended.
‘Because you never change!’ Mia finally explodes completely, throwing her hands into the air. ‘Because I sit here watching it all happen!’ She turns from Lissa, like she can’t bear to look at her.
‘No one asked you to sit watching,’ Lissa says stiffly.
‘Oh for fuck’s sake, Lissa.’ Mia turns back.
‘Why do you think I’m still here?’ Lissa’s insides churn.
‘Why do you think I’ve stayed nearby all these years?
Why do you think I’m worried about what will happen with Lottie?
Because I can’t leave you. I can’t leave until you get your fucking act together, and you just won’t.
’ Her voice is on the verge of a sob now.
Lissa stares at her cousin – the person who has been there for her her whole life – and something like nausea swells. She thinks of how she herself has felt trapped in Bath because of her mum. Is that how Mia feels? Trapped – because of her?
‘I’m not stopping you leaving,’ she says quietly. ‘If you want to go, be with Lottie, then you should.’
She doesn’t mean it argumentatively, but she knows her tone is off. And when Mia scoffs, she knows it was the wrong thing to say.
‘Fine,’ Mia says, voice tight. ‘Maybe I will.’ With that, she storms out, leaving Lissa staring after her.