‘Olive.’ I choose my next words with care. ‘Has someone hurt you?’
She shakes her head in silence, so I dare to believe her.
‘I saw something a while ago,’ she says, in the end. Her voice sounds choked. I can hear the way she’s pulling herself together so as not to cry again. ‘In the autumn. I’d been round to Grace’s after study hour, and I was walking back for dinner. It was dark, but a few streets along, I saw . . .’ Olive shuts her eyes and her voice breaks ‘. . . I saw Mum’s car outside one of the houses. I didn’t think anything of it at first because she sometimes does home visits in Ebrington.’ Olive’s mum is a midwife. ‘Normally she tells me, in case we get a chance to meet up. But she hadn’t said anything. And then I knew why. Because she wasn’t there for work.’ The hardness creeps back into her face as her eyes fill with more tears. She wipes her cheek with the back of her hand. I pray silently that this isn’t what I think it is. ‘She was coming out of the house. With a man. She kissed him goodbye.’
Silence. For a couple of seconds. Then I whisper, ‘Shit.’
Olive presses her lips together, then nods.
‘It might have just looked like a kiss?’
‘Unfortunately, it was very clear.’
‘Does your dad . . .?’ I begin.
She shakes her head. ‘She saw me and came after me. She promised me it was a one-off, and told me not to say anything to him.’
‘But that’s . . .’ I stop, because there are so many possible words for it. Wrong, dishonest, manipulative.
‘Yeah.’ Olive gives a bitter laugh. ‘That’s what I said.’
‘Have you told him?’
I can see how much the question is tormenting Olive. ‘No. I was going to, but then . . . I saw him in the sick bay the next day and I couldn’t. He loves her – he’d do anything for us. He doesn’t have the faintest idea and . . . I just couldn’t. I wish I’d never seen it. I wish I was as clueless as him. Then I wouldn’t feel like a fucking traitor.’
‘You’re not a traitor, Olive,’ I say, although I know perfectly well that I’d feel the exact same in her shoes.
All she does is shrug.
‘I’m really bloody sorry,’ I say.
‘I don’t know what to do, Tori.’
‘There’s nothing you can do.’
‘What if they get divorced?’
I daren’t promise her that won’t happen. I know only too well how quickly that fear can become a reality. ‘If they do, you’ll survive,’ I say. ‘And you know why? Because you’re not alone, Livy. Even if it feels like you are.’
Olive takes a deep breath and tips her head way back. Then she looks at me. ‘I’m sorry.’ Her voice is quiet, but I hear what she says. ‘I’m really sorry, Tori.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I didn’t want anyone to know. News always gets out here and Dad would have heard rumours.’
‘I won’t tell a soul,’ I promise.
‘OK,’ Olive says. ‘Thank you.’
‘And I’m here for you, Livy. Always.’
‘I know,’ she whispers. ‘Even though I don’t deserve it. I’ve been a crap friend. What I said to you that time in the corridor, and in the dining room . . .’
‘Long forgotten.’
‘No, it was out of order. It wasn’t fair on you. And I wasn’t fair on Emma either.’ Olive is visibly wrestling with herself as she continues: ‘I couldn’t bear it. I was desperate, and so angry with Mum. I didn’t want to be in league with her, just standing by while she cheated on Dad. And then Emma came along and I thought, now it’s happening all over again with her, Grace and Henry.’
At that moment, I understand. It’s like all the puzzle pieces are coming together in my head, forming answers to the questions I’ve been asking since last autumn.
