Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lissa stares at the clock on her work computer.
Still five minutes until she’s technically allowed to leave for the day.
She picks up her phone, gets up the WhatsApp chat with Mia.
Stares at it, then closes it again as she keeps doing.
They haven’t spoken, haven’t even messaged, since last Sunday and she doesn’t know what to say.
They never usually fight, so there’s not exactly a template for this.
She hates knowing Mia is angry at her. Hates knowing that she might be the reason her cousin has been stressed and unhappy recently. But she doesn’t know how to fix it.
She can feel Liam watching her from his glass office, pretends to be clicking something with her mouse.
He’s been like this since she rang in sick.
She doesn’t care as much as she probably should.
It feels bizarre that she’s supposed to carry on as normal, as if she hasn’t figured out that she and Ash have lived a version of this life before.
As if she isn’t questioning why it keeps happening, and whether she is doing the right thing staying away from him.
A message on the internal office chat pops up on her computer screen.
Ready to go?
Darcy. Thank God.
‘So?’ Darcy prompts as they reach the lift.
It takes Lissa a second to realise what she is asking about. ‘The interview?’ she asks.
‘Of course. What else? How did it go?’
She had her second – and final – interview for the marketing job at the charity yesterday. ‘It was … fine,’ she finishes lamely.
‘Fine?’ Darcy’s eyebrows pull together. ‘What do you mean, fine?’
‘I mean … it was okay.’ But it wasn’t brilliant.
She was unable to drum up the enthusiasm she’d felt at the first interview, and she knows the interviewer noticed.
She tried to stay focused, answer the questions in the right way, but her mind kept going back to Ash, to the night in Cornwall.
She still wants a different job, still wants to make a change in her life.
But how is she supposed to carry on as if she doesn’t know Ash is, for want of a better word, her soulmate?
‘This is about Ash, isn’t it?’ Darcy says, astute as ever.
Lissa sighs. ‘No comment.’ She hasn’t told Darcy about what actually happened – how can she?
Telling someone you think you have a past life, fine, most people can make a joke out of that, but telling them that you are sure that you and someone else are destined to meet, and to die together, in every lifetime? Well, that’s something else entirely.
Darcy checks her handbag as Lissa pushes the button for the lift. ‘Shit,’ she mutters. ‘I forgot my lipstick. Give me two secs. I’ll meet you on the ground floor. And then I want to know exactly what happened – both with Ash and at the interview.’
‘Do you really need—’ But already Darcy has turned, heading back to her desk.
Lissa steps into the lift, and an arm comes out just as the door is closing. Mark gives her a polite nod as he joins her.
‘Hey,’ he says, pressing the button for the ground floor, which Lissa has already pressed.
‘Hey.’ Her voice sounds flat, she knows it does. ‘How are you?’
He nods, overenthusiastically. ‘Great.’
She nods too. ‘Good.’ Is the lift always this slow? she wonders. ‘Ah … how’s Jen?’
He smiles. ‘She’s good. We’re going to Cyprus in a couple of weeks.’
‘Oh, that’s cool.’
‘Yeah?’ It seems meant as a question.
‘Sure. I’ve heard it’s lovely there.’
He looks at her a little curiously, then just nods again. The pair of them, bloody nodding dogs. ‘Yeah,’ he agrees, as the lift door opens. ‘Supposed to be.’
They step out together. ‘Well,’ he says, gesturing to the exit.
‘Yep,’ she says. But as he moves away, towards the sunlight beckoning outside the doors, she calls out behind him. ‘Mark?’
He turns back to her, and she bites her lip. She’s not sure how to say what she wants to say. He’s looking at her, expectant. She takes a breath. If her mother, of all people, can apologise, she can too.
‘I’m sorry, you know. If I hurt you,’ she explains, when he looks a little quizzical.
He seems to hesitate, then gives a little shrug-nod combo. ‘You didn’t. I was confused more than anything.’
‘Yeah, well,’ she says a little bitterly. ‘I’ve been told I can be quite confusing.’
There’s another moment of quiet between them, then Mark gestures again to the outside. ‘All right. Well, I better …’
‘Sure,’ Lissa says quickly.
‘I suppose I’ll see you at the funeral?’
Lissa frowns. ‘What funeral?’
Something flashes across his face, before it’s carefully controlled. ‘Oh. I assumed you’d …’ He clears his throat. ‘Ash’s dad. He, well, he died a couple of weeks ago. The funeral is on Saturday.’ Lissa can only stare at him, horror mounting inside her. Jack? Jack is dead?
‘You and Ash aren’t …?’ Mark trails off as Lissa shakes her head.
‘I didn’t know,’ she whispers.
He grimaces. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have told you.’
‘No, it’s fine,’ Lissa says quickly. ‘I’m sure he would have told me. I just—’
Darcy chooses that moment to come up behind her, putting her hands on her shoulders and making her jump. ‘Ready to go? You coming for dinner too, Mark?’
‘Ah, no,’ Mark says, shifting awkwardly. ‘I think I’ll pass this time. Thanks, though.’
‘Well,’ Darcy says, as Mark leaves the building ahead of them, ‘you two sure know how to drag the awkward post-dating phase out.’
Lissa turns to her and Darcy’s expression changes. ‘What’s happened?’ she asks immediately.
Lissa can only get out one word. ‘Ash.’
‘Oh my God.’ There must be something in her expression, her voice, that lets Darcy know it’s something bad.
‘He’s fine,’ Lissa says quickly. ‘It’s just … his dad.’ Her eyes spring with tears. ‘His dad died.’
‘Oh shit,’ Darcy murmurs, while Lissa gestures at the door.
‘I need to …’
‘Yes,’ Darcy agrees.
But Lissa hesitates. ‘But wait – should I?’
‘Yes,’ Darcy says again, emphatically.
Lissa gives her a look. ‘You don’t even know what I’m going to say.’
‘Call him,’ Darcy says pointedly. ‘And yes. You should.’
But Lissa bites her lip. ‘I think I’m bad for him, Darcy,’ she whispers. ‘I think I’m going to …’ She cuts herself off in time. Try not to sound insane, Lissa. ‘It’ll only end badly,’ she says instead.
‘So do a lot of things, one way or another.’
‘That’s very pessimistic. And here I was thinking you were an optimist.’
‘I’m a realist.’ Darcy reaches out, squeezes Lissa’s arm. ‘You can’t control everything, Lissa.’
And she can’t not call him, can she? Because something like this … She can imagine a little of what he’s feeling. And regardless of what she knows, she wants to be there for him if she can.
‘I don’t want to make it worse,’ she murmurs.
‘You definitely won’t make it worse. Think about what you’d want if you were him.’
Lissa takes a shaky breath. ‘Okay. Okay, I have to … Wait, but we’re going for dinner!’
‘Yeah, about that … I was actually going to ask if you’d hate me if I bailed.’
‘Bailed? Why?’
‘I … Well I think I may have a date.’
‘A date?’ Lissa’s voice hikes up a notch. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because I wasn’t sure there was anything to tell.’ Darcy pauses. ‘And because with everything happening with Ash …’
‘I still want to know,’ Lissa says firmly. ‘Of course I do.’
‘Okay, but not now.’ Darcy squeezes her arm again.
‘No, maybe not now.’ Lissa pulls her in for a hug. ‘I hope it goes well tonight. He’s obviously an idiot if it doesn’t.’
Darcy laughs, patting Lissa’s back. ‘I hope Ash is okay,’ she says into her neck.
‘Me too.’
She’s already calling him as she leaves the building, stepping out into a warm summer evening.
The phone rings for so long, she’s not sure if he’s going to answer – if maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to her.
Which would be totally fair enough. She’s about to hang up, respect his decision, when he answers.
‘Hello?’ And despite the awfulness of what has happened, a part of her leaps at the sound of his voice.
‘Ash. I heard. I’m so sorry.’
There is quiet down the line. ‘Yeah,’ he says, his voice a little raspy. ‘It’s been a bit rough.’
She hates hearing it – the suppressed pain there. ‘Is there anything I can do? I mean, I know there’s probably not, but …’
‘It’s okay. I’m just … I’m sorting out his things and just waiting to get through the funeral. I haven’t really thought beyond that, to be honest.’
‘Do you need food? I could cook? Or bring takeaway? Or I can—’
‘That’s okay. I think I need some time to process.’
‘Of course,’ Lissa says quickly. And oh God, has she made it worse? ‘I’m so sorry,’ she says again. ‘I shouldn’t have called.’
‘No. I’m glad you did. I wasn’t sure whether to tell you – whether you’d want to know.’
‘Of course I’d want to know,’ she murmurs. ‘This is your dad we’re talking about, Ash. Why would you think I wouldn’t?’
He gives a low, tired sigh. ‘I don’t know, Liss. We sleep together and then you bolt.’ She winces, slowing down as she reaches a road she has to cross. ‘Not exactly a good sign, is it?’
‘That wasn’t about you.’ She whispers it. ‘I was just trying to …’ But she doesn’t know how to finish. Keep you safe. Stop the past from repeating itself.
There’s another moment of quiet. Then, ‘It happened the night we were together. In Cornwall.’
She closes her eyes briefly. ‘Oh God. Ash.’ It feels like an awful sign – that the night she figured out what was going on was the same night his dad lost his life.
Another indication that they shouldn’t be together.
And now he’ll be blaming himself for not being there.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Why can’t she think of anything else to say?
Why can’t she do anything to make him feel better? She hates it, this powerlessness.
‘In some ways, I think he would have preferred it this way,’ Ash says, in a flat tone she’s never heard him use before.
‘He was dreading it. You know, the slow descent. The idea that he might have to move somewhere with more help. And I’ve been dreading that too, I guess.
’ He doesn’t say anything more, but she knows him well enough to guess what’s going unsaid here – that because he was dreading it, he is somehow to blame.
‘This isn’t your fault, Ash,’ she says, as gently as she can. But she thinks of people telling her that very same thing – of how hard it is to believe.
‘Yeah,’ Ash says. ‘Well.’
Lissa thinks of Jack, of the kind smile, the wry tone.
A life that had become smaller, fighting mental and physical battles on every front.
She can’t cry. It’s Ash who should be allowed to cry, not her.
But still she finds herself welling up. ‘Mark said the funeral is on Saturday?’ She manages to keep her voice steady as she asks.
‘Yeah,’ Ash says again.
‘Do you want me to …’ She takes a breath. ‘I’d like to come. Be there for you. But only if you want me.’
He hesitates for enough time to make her question the offer, wonder if she shouldn’t have put him on the spot like that.
Then his voice comes down the phone, soft, quiet, sad. But not quite as flat. ‘I’ll always want you, Lissa.’