‘Two years. Which was only half of the time he had been in that portrait-worthy relationship with Heloise, but he had always been mine, no matter how. Ever since we were ten and our annoying little brothers became friends. I loved him better than anyone could, and we were building ourselves the best little world to thrive in. I loved him so much, I… I fell in love with him all over again every time he laughed at my jokes. And I only came up with jokes to make him laugh. His laugh was my safe place. He was…’
She pinches her lips, and Charles shakes his head, his temples buzzing.
‘If it’s too hard, you don’t have to—’
‘I’m alright. I hadn’t missed loving him in a while, that’s it…’ She finishes her wine and clears her throat of any quivers. ‘So just before Christmas, Heloise found out about us and… she was entitled to have any reaction, I can’t blame her, but she chose to go straight to your mother. And I don’t know if Heloise was pressured at home to marry into the Ledwell family, or maybe Fred’s laugh was her safe place too and she wasn’t ready to let go. I don’t know, but she agreed to keep quiet about his cheating and to wait. To wait until Alice would get Fred to “listen to reason”. That’s what your mother said when she summoned them both, acting like a marriage counsellor. Fred went ballistic. He ended up being hurtful to Heloise and then felt really guilty, which didn’t help. On Christmas Day, he lost it when Alice said that Heloise was coming with all of you to your grandfather’s estate on Boxing Day. He fought to take me instead. But you might know that?’
‘No, I… It’s all hazy.’ Charles sighs, wincing at his Scotch whisky that worsens the gibberish from that day. ‘I remember the fighting. So it was about you?’
‘Mostly… In the end, none of us went to Surrey. Fred left your house before dawn and didn’t come back for days. That turned the nightmare into hell. From then on, Milton was properly henpecking him. He confiscated his car keys, froze his bank account, forbade him to go out. Fred kept on going out, getting pissed and into fights, and making sure Milton saw it. It was bad. It was awful… I should have alerted someone. But we were three months away from leaving and I believed… I believed we’d make it.’
A battle is raging in the trench in Charles’ heart, between the need to know why they didn’t make it and the self-protective instinct to interrupt Liv. But ignorance has never done him any good, so he sides with the army that wants answers.
‘I don’t know what tipped Milton off about Fred saving up. Maybe he finally counted his damn candlesticks. And I guess he remembered Fred’s wish to travel and he connected the dots because, overnight, he knew about his visa. When Fred came back home from a boozy party, Milton burnt his passport in front of him. He threw it into the fireplace and held Fred violently, forcing him to watch and yelling that he was about to take drastic actions. Fred called me afterwards and… he was absolutely enraged. He said he wanted to steal Milton’s favourite vintage car, drive it to a waste ground and torch it. I tried to… But I think… I don’t think anything I could have said would have stopped him. I worked really hard to convince myself of that.’
Charles had contracted his fist in hatred, but he opens it to cover Liv’s hand. ‘Of course not.’
‘I was terrified, so I woke up my mum and asked her to drive me to your place. We weren’t in the car yet when we heard sirens rushing towards the heights of Hampstead and I knew… Somehow, I instantly knew I’d never feel completely safe again.’
A tear rolls down Liv’s cheek, reflecting the red lights above them.
Charles blinks a couple of times and stands up straighter. ‘Can I hug you?’
‘Hug me?’
‘I’ve always been on the receiving end of Fred-related hugs, and they never helped. But you, you would have understood they didn’t help, and it could have helped. You know?’
Liv nods, the corner of her mouth trembling, and Charles wraps his arms around her body to hold her very tight. Probably too tight, but she allows it.
‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Charles. I was too—’
‘Please, don’t.’
‘No, let me explain that… it wasn’t just because I was devastated. It was also that I couldn’t risk seeing Milton. Some of the thoughts I was having… It wasn’t healthy.’
‘I can imagine.’
Charles can’t. He can’t imagine what her thoughts about Milton were made of. He can’t even decipher his own. Traces of the hatred that engulfed him are lingering, but it’s been diluted by their common heartache. Diluted with cocktails, wine and Scotch whisky too.
He’s not in the right state of mind to comprehend what his feelings towards his father mean. So for the time being, he prefers to embrace what he’s sure to experience properly. The comfort to share his pain with someone who loved his brother for who he really was.
Through the mist in his eyes, he spots Phil, who’s observing them from the doorway to the main room. Charles manages to smile andmouths, ‘Tell Elsy, please.’ Phil raises a thumbs up and walks out, digging his hands into his pockets probably full of winnings.
‘I never did anything with the money we saved.’ Liv draws back and wipes her cheek. ‘I was too conflicted about what it represented. But it’s in the bank, and Fred would want it to help you.’
‘Spend it on your shelter. I don’t need money.’
‘Alright… You may need more answers, then?’
‘I… Yes, but… it’s a lot already.’
Charles is getting dizzy. The red spotlights aren’t helping. The room looks like a paint mess no one would frame. He should tell Liv about the paint mess Patty framed in her house.
‘Of course. But promise me you’ll call.’
‘I promise.’
‘So take my number maybe.’
