Chapter 22 #3
Before I know it, word has whispered through the crowd.
One by one, they come over, for a moment surrounding me, murmuring the most beautiful sentiments, the most heartfelt words about you.
My heart is full to bursting – with pride, with love for you.
In that moment, more than ever, I feel the measure of what you’ve done, the difference you’ve made, not just to me but to all of us.
Over the next hour, I endure the arrival of more lorries, trying to imagine how many lives have been taken inside these buildings, before suddenly I can’t bear it.
‘I don’t think I can take any more,’ I say to the woman I’m standing next to.
My eyes meet hers, just briefly, yet long enough to see the pain in them.
Walking away, I get in my car and sit there for a moment. Wishing I had a fraction of your strength, Lexie.
* * *
I don’t go straight back to Mary’s. Instead, I go back to our old family home, take in the Sale Agreed sign that’s been put up. Letting myself in, I sit on the stairs. A house clearance company has been in and all the rooms are empty; in the silence, the house is no more than a shell.
As I think back to everything that shaped your life, it’s as though I’m surrounded by the ghosts of who we used to be, my mind suddenly filled with if onlys.
If only our lives had been different; if only Ryan hadn’t drunk; if only I had been stronger; if only you and Ollie as children had glimpsed a window into a world that was kinder.
Would your life have worked out differently?
As suddenly as I was drawn to come here, I have to leave. Closing the door behind me, I know I won’t be coming back. As I get in the car, it’s as though your ghost follows me.
Your life was short, Lexie. But after what I’ve seen today, more than ever before, I need you to know that what you did was important.
I maintain a facade of brightness when I get back to Mary’s; join her and Joe for the meal they’ve cooked. When she goes to bed early, Joe opens a bottle of wine.
‘You look like you could do with a glass,’ he says quietly.
His words put me on edge – because of Ryan. And because of Ryan, too, I never want to be someone who looks like they need a drink. Even so, I take the glass he passes me.
‘I went to a slaughterhouse vigil today.’ Seeing the look of shock in Joe’s eyes, I get a sense of how it was for you when you told people where you’d been.
‘Lexie used to go to them. She was an animal welfare activist – among other things. I’d never been before. And I’m glad I went. It made me think.’
‘You’re brave,’ he says. ‘I did a few months in a small abattoir in my early days as a vet. I found it incredibly difficult.’ He pauses. ‘Your daughter sounds brave, too.’
It’s like a hand grips my insides, then savagely twists them. I wish I could distil you into a few sentences that describe who you really were. ‘She was a one-off,’ I tell Joe. ‘She cared too much.’ I swallow the lump in my throat. ‘About almost everything, but particularly animals.’
‘You must miss her terribly.’ His voice is husky.
‘Every minute of every day.’ I’m silent for a moment, aware I’ve told him hardly anything about you. ‘I’ll never stop thinking she should still be here – that’s the worst part.’
‘I can only imagine,’ he says gently.
‘She used to come with me,’ I say. ‘When I first started growing flowers here. Anyway.’ My emotions too close to the surface, I change the subject. ‘How are things with you? At home?’
His face darkens momentarily. ‘Not great,’ he says. ‘I used to think Tara was my soulmate. It just goes to show how wrong I was – and that in itself takes some getting your head around. I mean, thinking you know someone, then finding out you really don’t.’
‘Yes,’ I say quietly. ‘How long was she having an affair?’
‘Two years – at least that’s what she’s told me.’ His voice is flat.
‘That’s a long time.’ I frown at him. ‘You had no idea?’
‘I was never there – I was always working – into the evenings, and some weekends,’ he says. ‘She had all that time to herself. In a sense, I blame myself. I should have made more time for us.’
‘Did she tell you she was unhappy?’ I ask.
‘No. It came out of the blue. But communication wasn’t one of our strong points.’ Joe shakes his head.
‘And now, you must find it difficult to believe anything she says.’ I look at him.
‘I do understand that. It was like that with Ryan – not because he was unfaithful. But alcohol made him completely unreliable. He’d make promises, then break them.
’ I pause, thinking of the dog I wanted to get that he agreed to then changed his mind.
‘You end up feeling so alone, don’t you? ’
‘Alone – and just a little inadequate.’ There’s the faintest glimmer of a smile on Joe’s face.
‘Not our doing,’ I say firmly. ‘It’s all down to them – I learned that the hard way.’ Then, ‘What does your daughter know about what’s been going on?’
‘Too much,’ he says wryly. ‘Isla knows all my shortcomings – Tara’s philosophy is to get everything out in the open.’
‘When it suits her, presumably.’ I watch Joe’s face.
‘Exactly. I’m slightly more – private, shall we say. Tara’s theory is that it’s better for her to know – it will be less of a shock to Isla if we break up further down the line.’
I frown at him. ‘So she’s on the fence?’ I pause. ‘Excuse me saying this, but isn’t that crap?’
‘Yes.’ He laughs, a hollow sound. ‘I like your honesty, Edie.’
‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘I didn’t mean to be blunt.’
‘You were honest,’ he says. ‘And honesty has been somewhat missing in my life.’ He sighs. ‘We make things so complicated for ourselves sometimes.’
‘Life can be messy,’ I say. ‘Do you think you and Tara have a future together?’
He frowns slightly. ‘If you’d asked me a couple of months ago, I would have said yes, without hesitation. I was determined, through sheer force of will, that we would come through this. But now… I’m not so sure.’
‘That you will, or if you want to?’ I ask.
‘If I want us to.’ His eyes are honest as he looks at me.
‘I don’t want to be Tara’s second best. And if she can do this to me, she isn’t the woman I thought she was.
The last few months, I’ve done a lot of thinking – none of it easy.
I came to the conclusion that maybe our relationship has run its course.
And I never thought I’d say this, but I’m starting to think I’m going to be OK with that. ’
‘Cheers to that.’ Raising my glass, I chink it against his.
‘How about you?’ he asks. ‘Do you have much to do with your ex?’
‘Not so much these days,’ I say. ‘Inappropriate though it is, I know how guilty I’d feel if something happened to him.’
Joe looks astonished. ‘Why?’
‘I know how hopeless he is at looking after himself.’ I pause. ‘I’d actually reached the point where I stopped going around there. But then he called me and told me he’s having tests. It seems there’s something wrong with his liver – after a lifetime of drinking, not surprisingly.’
‘Doesn’t he have anyone else?’ Joe asks. ‘Like your son, for instance?’
I shake my head. ‘Ollie cut ties with his father years ago. Ryan was dreadful to him – and to Lexie, too.’
Joe’s silent for a moment. ‘This is none of my business – and I mean that. But after what you’ve just told me, I genuinely don’t understand how you can feel any obligation towards Ryan – or why you would even want him in your life.’
His words sting for some reason. ‘He isn’t really in my life.’ But he still takes up far too much of my headspace.
‘It isn’t your fault that he doesn’t have anyone else.’ Joe gazes at me. ‘Everything that’s happening to Ryan, from the sound of it, he’s brought it on himself.’
As I sit there, my feeling of unease intensifies, wave after wave of discomfort coming at me.
But I’m under no illusions any more that my loyalties are screwed up, that for years, you and Ollie have been given mixed messages.
It’s clear as day. Painfully clear. ‘You’re right.
’ My voice is offhand. I get up. ‘Thanks for the wine.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Joe looks taken aback. ‘Sorry if I’ve upset you.’
‘It’s not your fault.’ I pause, trying to find the words. ‘It’s me – I’m ultra-sensitive when it comes to my family. I blame myself still – for so many things.’ I hesitate, because I’ve been outspoken, too. ‘I’m sorry if I was out of line earlier – about Tara.’
‘You weren’t in the slightest.’ Joe pauses. ‘Are you sure you won’t have another glass?’
I hesitate. ‘I’m exhausted. I’m going to turn in.’
He smiles, a little sadly. ‘Good night, Edie.’
In my room, I sit on my bed; after a strange day, I’m glad to be alone. A tear rolls down my cheek as I feel a wave of self-pity. Will I ever stop feeling like this?
No one understands, I remember you saying angrily, your voice filled with frustration. So many things aren’t important – take what’s in the past, for example. You can’t change it, so there’s no point worrying about it. We should put our energy into the future, into making a difference in the world.
Your words are like a breath of fresh air. I know why I blame myself, why I torture myself with guilt. It’s because you’re not here – but I am. It’s the grief I haven’t dealt with. My anger at myself; my desperate need to find a reason for your death.
A reason I can bear, Lexie.