“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Why not? Do you have a monopoly on that?”
“I don’t understand? I thought you… I mean, I was scared that you might think…”
“Think what? Did you really believe that I’d come round her this evening just to accuse you of killing my sub? Sorry, my girlfriend.”
I try to look away, staring at the crumpled, soggy handkerchief twisting between my fingers. He’s having none of that. He cups my chin and lifts my face back up, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“Did you think that, Faith?”
“Yes.”
“You were wrong. Wrong about why I’m here, and wrong about the accident. If you feel guilty to be alive when Carrie’s dead, maybe that’s just because what happened was so bizarre. A cruel twist of fate. Yes, it could so easily have been you. Youarelucky to be alive. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have any right to be. Carrie didn’t deserve what happened to her, but neither did you deserve it.”
I notice he makes no such comment regarding Ed. I don’t either.
“I wish to God I’d refused her permission, insisted we give you a lift back. I thought about it, but decided to let Carrie do what she wanted to do. There was no way I could have known, not at that stage, but I’ve still beaten myself up about it. I was responsible for her, I let her down. I didn’t intend to; if I could turn the clock back I would. But it happened, it’s done now. There’s no going back, for any of us.”
I’m staring at him, incredulous. All these months I was convinced Carrie’s death was my fault, and it seems at least to some extent he’s been blaming himself for it. His lip quirks in a sardonic half-smile.
“What a pair we make. I wish I’d come earlier. I wanted to talk to you, probably because we shared it, that experience.”
“Yes, I know. No one else understands. It was so, so—unique. And so awful.”
“It was. But we have to pick ourselves up now. We have to move on.”
“You already have.”
“No, not really. I’ve been away because I was working, but I always knew I’d be back here eventually. I hoped you’d still be here, but I wasn’t sure until you opened your door earlier.”
“Do you miss her?”
“Carrie? Yes, of course. I cared about her, cared deeply.”
“Did you love her?” His words are an odd choice, and I feel I need to ask.
“I understood her, and she trusted me. You know what our relationship was. Carrie told you about it.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“Yes. Not much, but a little.”
“I was her dom.”
“You used to hit her.”
“I did. With her permission.”
“I know that. She liked it. And she adored you.”
He hesitates, and I begin to realise that perhaps Carrie’s feelings were not entirely reciprocated, though Ewan will never say that. I admire his loyalty, and his sensitivity. My gut wrenches again with a slight stirring of something, gladness perhaps, that what happened that fateful day may not have entirely ruined his life.
Chapter Three
I sit for a while, make myself more tea and try to regroup. My reality is shifting again as I consider the truth of Ewan’s words. He’s right; my influence over Ed was always limited. My husband did as he liked and somehow managed to drag me along with him. I’d convinced myself that Ed cared about me, loved me as much as I loved him. Now I’m not so sure. Even on that last, fateful day, he’d put his own wishes first. He had known that Ewan was happy to offer me a lift whether or not I swapped with Caroline, and turned that down without even talking to me. I was left believing that I had somehow forced her onto the bike, when of course I hadn’t. Ewan was spot on about that.
So, where does this leave me now? I ponder that as I undress and climb into my bed. I had needed to adjust, to re-orient myself. I was a wife; I’m now a widow. I had a husband; now I have only myself. I was part of a couple; now I’m alone.
Well, perhaps not quite alone. I have my sister and her family. And I have a neighbour who seems nice. Maybe.
