Chapter 39
Chapter thirty-nine
Ben
“I’ll meet you there,” she says.
My grip tightens on her fingers. If I let her go, I might not see her again tonight. I’m not ready for that. “Are you sure? I don’t mind driving you.”
“No, I have my car,” she says firmly. “You go back to your family, and I’ll see you at your house in a bit.”
She sits back, releasing my hands.
“I’ll see you later,” she repeats, each syllable emphasized as you would speak to a child having a meltdown. “Okay.”
The word barely leaves my mouth. It catches somewhere in the back of my throat.
Hell, I’m terrified of losing her. She turns and walks away, back toward Mikey’s grave.
I watch her gather her things—the storybook, the hot drink flask, the folding chair—scooping them up before heading toward the parking lot where she disappears behind the trees.
By the time I follow, she’s already pulling out of the cemetery, her car disappearing through the gates. I hope I’ve done the right thing in inviting her tonight, but I didn’t want her to be alone.
Not today.
Not with everything hanging over her. Over us.
Bex’s headstone glints in the late afternoon sun as I climb into my own car. I sigh. The woman I lost before and the woman I’ve got now face the same danger. Ironic and painful considering my job. I can’t believe I might be standing on the same cliff edge twice.
***
Back at the house, I walk into chaos. Amy is clattering pans around the kitchen. Ivan attempts to keep control of her, but fails. One saucepan flies over the tiles, white sauce splashing up the cabinets.
“Amy,” Ivan mutters, voice low. “Slow down. Not everything needs to be done at a hundred miles per hour.”
“Sorry,” she shouts over her shoulder, grabbing another pan. Ivan grabs a cloth and drops to his knees to clean.
Savannah is arguing with Oliver about something in a video game. I didn’t even know she played them. The screen is paused, two action figures frozen in combat. Their voices rise an octave as they glare at one another, then turn the game back on.
Liam is sitting quietly in the corner with a book, legs curled beneath him, eyes narrowed.
This day is like this every year. Everyone in their own space, coping however they can.
Sometimes it’s easy to forget Liam is the only one who actually lost his mum.
Her death hit all my kids hard, but I know Liam carries the weight of it differently.
“About time,” Amy says, without looking up. “I’m trying to keep all your feral children alive while you’re gallivanting around.”
I chuckle. “I was visiting your sister.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she says. “I’ve heard that excuse before. I bet you were at the pub.”
Ivan snorts. I honestly don’t know how he manages to live with her. Amy has always been the louder of the two sisters.
I walk over and slide an arm around her shoulders, pulling her briefly against me.
“And you’re doing a wonderful job, sis,” I say.
“She is,” Ivan agrees.
Amy rolls her eyes. “You never call me sis.”
“Right, what can I do to help?” I ask.
“We’re setting the table.” Ivan passes me a stack of plates.
“Dad!” Oliver shouts from the living room. “Savannah’s being annoying.”
Savannah doesn’t even glance away from the screen.
“Oh, please,” she shoots back. “He keeps cheating.”
“If you two don’t stop arguing, I’m switching the console off.”
Silence, then the clicking of buttons resumes. Liam looks up from his book and gives me a small smile.
“How’s Mum?” he asks quietly.
“Good,” I say. “I laid the flowers.”
His smile grows a little. “Thanks.”
“I know you didn’t want to come today.” I’d mentioned going to visit her earlier, but he hadn’t taken me up on it. Sometimes, he comes, and then he can go a few months without seeing her. I don’t press. “It’s okay. You didn’t need to.”
I ruffle his hair and head back to help. Amy is carrying more plates and cutlery to the table. Ivan has taken over the cooking. The place settings go down one by one. Each item laid precisely, angles perfect.
I steel myself for what I’m about to say. “We’ll need one more place.”
Everything stops. Open-plan houses can be a nightmare like that. Even Oliver’s controller stops clicking. Savannah’s head snaps around. My whole family stares, waiting for the reveal.
“Why?” Amy asks. “Who are we expecting?”
“Antonia,” I half-whisper.
Amy freezes for half a second, then her face softens into a genuine smile.
“Good,” she says. “I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
Ivan nods as he walks past. Savannah says nothing, but I feel her eyes on me.
The doorbell rings.
My heart skips.
She’s here. And suddenly I’m not sure this was such a good idea. Maybe today wasn’t the day to do this. But she needed me. And the last thing I wanted was to leave her alone.
Amy grins, then nudges Ivan.
“Go answer the door, mate,” he says, patting my shoulder.
I walk to the hallway. Antonia is a shadow behind the frosted glass, her hair loose, waves falling down her back.
I open the door.
“Hi,” she says softly, shy. This is the most uncertain I’ve ever seen her.
“Come in.”
She steps inside. I take her hand and kiss her cheek. My heart beats a little harder. I glance over my shoulder, and my family has already gathered behind us.
Everyone except Savannah, who is visible through the door into the living space.
That doesn’t bode well.
Amy bursts forward first. Hands outstretched. She practically drags Antonia into the hallway and pulls her into a bear hug.
“I’m so happy to meet you!” she squeals. My sister-in-law bounces on the spot. Ivan steps forward and offers his hand.
“Ivan. Lovely to meet you.”
“Antonia.” She shakes his hand firmly.
Amy hugs her again. “I’m so pleased to meet you.”
Ivan gently peels Amy away.
Oliver strolls up next with the swagger only a teenage boy can manage. “Hi. I’m Oliver. The oldest son.”
Antonia laughs.
Amy glares at him. “Ollie, don’t be a twat.”
He shrugs, gives Antonia a quick hug, then collapses back onto the sofa.
Liam approaches next and reaches out his hand. “Hi.”
Antonia shakes it gently. Something twists painfully inside my chest. This feels strange.
Antonia looks over my shoulder; her gaze falling on Savannah, who is still sitting on the sofa, controller in her hands, but the avatar’s not moving. Her eyes are fixed on our reflection on the screen. Savannah’s face stiffens when she realizes we’ve noticed her watching.
Antonia shifts beside me. I turn back to her and offer a small, reassuring smile. It’s meant to say it’s fine. I’m not sure it convinces her.
I should probably call Savannah over, but she is my most explosive child, and today is already difficult enough. So, I leave it.
Amy claps her hands. “Dinner in five minutes.”
Everyone drifts toward the dining table, shuffling chairs and deciding who sits where. Savannah slides into the chair beside mine. I move one place down. Antonia takes the seat between us.
She needs to be close to me tonight. I know she’s struggling. And right now, she’s walking straight into the snake pit—even if there’s only one snake. I’ve seen my daughter bite before.
Amy brings plate after plate of food from the kitchen, setting them down between us. The room fills with the usual small talk about the weather, what the kids did at school this week, who forgot their homework, who got detention.
Then Savannah’s phone rings—loud and unbearable—it cuts straight through the conversation.
“It’s Rose,” she says, already answering the video call.
Her sister’s face appears on the screen, bright and animated. “Hey. How’s everyone?”
“Good,” Savannah says flatly. “Dad’s girlfriend’s here.”
The words are short, snappy, and she makes no effort to hide her disdain. Antonia pulls at the paper napkin on her lap, small pieces breaking off and falling onto the floor.
From the phone comes a shriek. “Oh! Put me on to her. Put me on to her. Put me on to her.”
Savannah sighs, then passes the phone to Antonia without even looking at her. I don’t miss my daughter’s territorial edge. Dismissive eyes land on me, narrowing to slits. I won’t bite—yet.
Antonia leans back slightly, like she’s a little taken aback by the blonde, blue-eyed vision of Rose in a bikini, a full face of makeup, sunshine blazing somewhere behind her.
“Hi,” Rose screeches. “I’m Rose. I’m the nice child.”
Antonia laughs out loud, and the tension around the table immediately softens.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Rose continues. “Well, there, not here, because I’m here and you’re there.”
Her chatter begins at once. Antonia doesn’t even need to speak. I watch from the sidelines as my daughter, half-way across the world, makes an effort while the daughter in the room does anything but. She asks about Opengate, and then turns immediately to teasing me.
“My dad.” Rose’s eyebrows almost hit her hairline. “You must be a saint putting up with him. He’s so old and grumpy.”
Antonia laughs again, clearly relaxing, adding the occasional word to keep the conversation flowing while Rose talks enough for three people. Eventually, the call cuts before Rose has spoken to no one else. Antonia hands Savannah back her phone, cheeks flushed pink.
“Thank you,” Antonia says gently.
Savannah doesn’t answer, just grunts under her breath. I open my mouth to scold her, but my sister-in-law catches my eye and shakes her head.
“Can you pass the potatoes, please?” Oliver says to Savannah.
She grabs the dish and half-throws it across the table.
“Attitude,” he mutters.
Amy snorts.
Ivan leans toward me. “Teenagers, eh?”
“I’m not a teenager,” Savannah snaps, more annoyed than the situation really deserves.
Antonia sits quietly, watching the debate. Amy starts chattering about work, business, life or anything else that pops into her head. Ivan nods along, throwing in the occasional comment to keep her talking.
The rest of us fall silent. A storm is brewing, but I don’t know when the lightning will strike.
Eventually, Savannah places her fork and knife down. “Dad.”
The single word cuts through the room.
“Of all the days to bring your new girlfriend home… you chose this one?”
No one speaks. Everyone just sits there, staring at their plates.
I look at my daughter.
I can’t believe she’s doing this. Here. Now. Not today.
“This isn’t the right time, Savannah.”
Antonia freezes. Her eyes widen as she looks between us all, confusion flickering across her face.
“Did I miss something?” she asks quietly.
Liam swallows. He looks up from his hands, his fingers twisting together as Oliver stabs one of his potatoes to death.
Liam’s gaze moves slowly to Antonia. “Today’s March fourth.”
She looks perplexed. He clears his throat.
“It’s the anniversary of Mum’s death.”