Her face crumpled before she could speak and I stood on shaking legs and rushed to her side, wrapping her in a hug. I was desperate to find out more, to know whether Andy had made it, but for now all either of us could do was wait.
‘This is my fault,’ I whispered into her head.
‘No,’ she said, forcefully, looking up at me. Her face was red and blotchy.
‘He was angry with me. I should have gone.’
‘He was never angry with you, Nicky, not really. He was worried about you.Isworried about you.’ We both noticed the correction but said nothing.
The next few hours were like a nightmare unfolding. By the end of the day police had called back and confirmed that Andy’s body had been pulled from the wreckage of the train. They sent someone round, a family liaison officer, but Amanda and I had already broken the news to the girls before they got there. It was the worst thing I’d ever had to do, watching the look on those girls’ faces as they realised that their dad was never coming home.
‘Uncle Nick?’ Ella said, looking to me for some sort of reassurance. But all I could do was wrap my arms around them both and let them cry until there were no more tears left to cry.
31
EMMA
I felt as though I might pass out. Beside me, Rachel opened her mouth as if to say something but then closed it again, and peered back at the screen. Her forehead was pinched into a frown. Finally, she looked at me and shook her head. ‘But I don’t understand. Surely if Nick didn’t get on the train and he told his brother why, then Andrew wouldn’t have got on either? I mean, even if you thought it was probably bollocks, you wouldn’t, would you? Just in case.’
‘Maybe.’ I wracked my brains to remember what Nick had told me about his brother. They were close, I was sure of that. And I knew Nick had told him about me, at least some of it. But it didn’t necessarily follow that he’d told him about my letter. ‘I don’t know,’ I said, rubbing my temples which were beginning to throb. ‘I just… I don’t know what to think.’
Rachel laid her phone carefully on the table and stood. ‘Let me make us a cuppa.’
While Rachel bustled round, I tried to put my thoughts in some sort of order. When I’d thought through the possible outcomes of my actions, not once had this crossed my mind. I’d imagined that Nick had never found the letter and he’d stilldied; I’d imagined that he had found it but refused to read it, and nothing had changed. And of course I’d thought about what might happen if he had found it, read it and decided to believe me. Would he be grateful to me for saving his life and try to find me?
This outcome though. His brother dying instead of him? I couldn’t even begin to untangle the feelings he must have about it.
But there was one thing I was sure of. Whatever had happened, I blamed myself.
And I was certain Nick would blame me too.
‘Look at this,’ I said, pointing at the screen. Rachel placed a mug of tea in front of me and peered at the screen.
‘You know that interview Andy gave on the first anniversary of Nick’s death?’
‘Yes?’
‘Look at it now.’
I waited while she read it. Then she looked back at me, her eyes wide.
‘It’s him,’ she said. ‘It’s Nick.’
‘Exactly,’ I said. The interview with Andy about Nick had now been replaced by an interview with Nick about his brother. There were the same photos of the boys together, growing up, huge grins for the camera, and later, photos of Andy with his family, his kids. And while all of it made me feel even worse, it was the photo of Nick I couldn’t tear my eyes away from.
He was older than the last time I’d seen him, but that was hardly surprising given that this had been written in 2007, eight years after the last time I saw him. But it was more than that;until this moment I’d forgotten how much Flynn looked like his daddy.
Given that I’d never been able to take a photo of Nick, I’d relied on my memory of him, of the angles of his face, the tilt of his eyes, the dimples in his cheeks when he smiled. But as the years had passed, that image had become blurry, unfocused, until I couldn’t be sure whether it was accurate at all.
But now, here he was, staring out at me from 2007 – and he looked just like I remembered. He looked just like his son.
‘He’s six years old and he’s been perfectly fine without a daddy in his life until now,’ I said, folding my arms. ‘You said it yourself.’
Rachel said nothing, just raised her eyebrows.
‘What? He has. We’re happy, just me and Flynn.’
‘Maybe you are. But don’t you think you’re being a bit selfish refusing to even consider giving Flynn the chance to know his daddy – or Nick the chance to know he’s a dad – given what you know now? I mean, this is what you wanted all along, isn’t it?’
