Grief for a life unlived, unliveable, a life unrealised… the life I may have had growing up in The Lake House… if things had been different. Different times, different circumstances, different possibilities.
Grief for all the ways I’ve not been true to myself and what that may have cost others as well as me.
I walk into the bathroom and turn on the shower, letting the hot water cascade over me. As I stand there, water streaming down my body, I think about what Moya said, that it’s all up to me and always will be my choice alone to make. I just need to find the courage to choose.
Well, this is me. Choosing courage.
CHAPTER 38
THE FLAT
The rain falls steadily onto the cobblestone streets, shrouding the city in a cold, dark mist. I glance out the window of my tiny London flat, focused on the simple task of cooking dinner for Kayla and myself. She’s come to stay with me since Ash stormed out a few nights ago, leaving me raw with the pain of our break-up, even though it was my decision and, in my heart of hearts, I know it was the right one.
My heart swells with gratitude for Kayla, my lifeline. It’s not that different from our days in the children’s home where we spent our evenings huddling from the cold and dreaming of the future. Yet, here we are, two fully grown women; still staring into the horizon, uncertain of what lies ahead.
As I remove the steaming pot from the stove, I shoot a nervous glance in Kayla’s direction. She sits on the corner of my worn-out sofa, looking drained, haunted shadows beneath her eyes.
‘It smells so good, Daisy,’ she murmurs, wrapping a threadbare blanket tighter against her huddled frame. Her vibrant features are marred by the shadows of the rollercoaster days that have unfolded – my break-up, her return to her chaotic house-share and a hectic work schedule for us both.
‘You okay over there?’ I ask, ladling the warm stew onto two simple white plates.
‘Yeah,’ she replies softly, ‘just a little tired.’
I set the plates on the table and call her to dinner. ‘What do you fancy? I’ve got everything – water, juice, wine, beer, vodka.’
As she rises to join me, she pauses, choking back a gagging sensation. Her cheeks are flushed, and she fans herself with the edge of her shawl. ‘I need to find that bracelet Moya gave me. I packed it coming over, but the nausea is back.’
We sit at the quaint round table in my small dining area, with the dim overhead light accentuating shadows across her face. I can tell Kayla is exhausted and stressed, but I want to give her some space without pressuring her too much. She knows I’m here for her when she’s ready to talk.
If I were a gambler, I would put all my money on Moya’s prediction: my eternally tired, puffy-faced and teary Kayla is pregnant. I just need her to admit it – first to herself, and then to me.
‘Anything I can get you?’ I ask with growing concern.
She reassures me with a weak smile. ‘I think it’s just something I ate. It’ll be fine,’ she says.
Her phone buzzes, and she smiles as she picks it up.
‘A video message from Fintan and Jacinta. So cute.’ Her pale face reflects the worn-out feeling I recognise in myself. ‘I wish we were back in Innisfree,’ she says quietly, her head resting in her hands.
I know exactly what she means. A wave of nostalgia washes over me with the thought of our simple lives over there.
Kayla opens the video message. The sight of Fintan and Jacinta fills my heart with warmth and affection – they’re like family to us now.
‘Hi, Kayla! Mooney’s here,’ Jacinta says cheerfully.
Fintan chimes in behind her. ‘We just wanted to send you a big hello and hope you’re well.’
‘My little online shop is booming! Lots of orders coming in from everywhere – I’m selling my wares all over the place. It’s marvellous!’ Jacinta continues with enthusiasm. ‘All thanks to you. I’m loving it, so keep sending me those hashtags and all the other bits and bobs we need.’
Fintan chips in again as he clumsily attempts to sip on his coffee while talking into the camera simultaneously. ‘And don’t forget our weekly catch-up on Thursday night at 8 p.m.! I have some more musings for you on our friend Nami Zen.’ He laughs heartily before wishing her well and signing off.
We watch the entire video with smiles on our faces – they make us feel connected even though we aren’t all physically together anymore.
Through dinner, I notice Kayla’s expression growing paler. Finally, unable to hold back any longer, she rushes to the bathroom to throw up. I want to take her to the hospital, but she tells me again that she’s fine. That it will pass. But for the next hour, Kayla seems even more pale and sunken. With a wild, fearful look in her eyes, she stays by the toilet, collapsed to her knees, retching. I sit beside her, pressing a cool washcloth to her forehead.
‘Kayla, this isn’t getting better. I think you need to see a doctor.’
She pushes my hand away, saying with tears in her eyes, ‘I don’t need one, Daisy. I’m pregnant.’
