Silently, I absorb it.
I look from Tim’s embattled face, to his strained expression in the picture, and for the first time see the fear he’s fighting to contain beneath his handsome,stoicfacade.
How have I not noticed it before?
I don’t know.
But, in a rush of clarity, it comes to me that, whoever else he might have consoled about this photograph, he’s also been trying to console himself.
‘She was so uneasy, she nearly dropped the camera,’ he says, his eyes once again open, staring at his friends. ‘Then, she took the shot too soon. No one was ready. See how Rob’s smiling? He was trying to cheer her up. He made a joke … ’
‘A joke?’ I say, replaying that glimpse I’ve held on to of him, coming to life. His lips moving, about to speak. ‘What did he say?’
Even now, I half fear Tim will clam up, claim he can’t remember after all.
But there’s none of that today.
‘He said, “Clarence, come on, you’re only worried because you’re going to have to finally give me an answer tomorrow.”’ He gives me a desperate look. ‘He’d asked her to marry him. She told him she’d only talk about it after our tour.’ His eyes fill. ‘She wouldn’t talk to him about it that afternoon either. She said to him, “Oh, do be quiet, Robbie,” but she was laughing. He had such a knack for making her laugh.’ He fumbles for his mask. ‘I was jealous.’
‘Is that why you pretended you couldn’t remember whotook this?’ I ask, getting up and moving to crouch beside him, helping him with his mask. ‘Were you afraid Imogen would guess how you felt?’
‘I think she guessed anyway,’ he says, through the plastic.
‘Yes,’ I agree, ‘I think she did.’
Tremblingly, he pulls the mask away.
‘I don’t know why I lied about it,’ he says. ‘There’s so much I’ve hidden, I got myself mixed up with where I should start, and where I could stop. And I’ve been so ashamed. So …terribly… ashamed.’ He stares at me. ‘I took everything, from all of them.’
‘What do you mean?’ I say, my mind racing to keep up.
‘It was my fault.’ The words choke him. ‘It was all my fault. And I’ve tried to fool myself that by sharing their story I might make myself near to them again. Repay them, by making them live again, here. Now. But I can never repay them.’ His face strains. ‘I’vehurtthem. I’ve hurt Iris. Let Imogen make it her fault. Ellie’s been so angry about it, but I never meant for it. Never … ’ His eyes implore me to believe him.
I don’t know what to believe.
I still don’t know what actually happened.
So, I ask Tim again to tell me what he remembers.
And, this time, he does.
‘You’re pregnant, aren’t you?’
Iris looked up from her untouched mug of tea, stunned.
Prim looked back at her, calmly.
They were alone in the breakroom. The others on duty were all elsewhere, trying to sleep. The overhead lamp buzzed. The blackout blinds tapped against the windows, gusting in the cold draught, bringing the scent of ice, petrol, and salt. It wasjust after one in the morning. A sea mist had blown in from the coast at eleven, and had been getting thicker the last time Iris checked. She was resisting the urge to keep looking, trying to trust that it would blow away again in time for everyone’s return.
‘It’s in the hands of the gods,’ Browning had said as he’d gone off to rest. ‘Nothing any of us can do. Get some shut-eye, Winterton. That’s an order.’
She’d ignored that order.
So, here she was, staring at Prim.
Trying to think what to say.
‘How did you guess?’ she asked her.
