‘Hmm. Maybe this will do, actually,’ comes his voice as he stands up and walks across to her. ‘Yes. I think this is pretty good.’
‘Good for what?’
A second later he is kneeling down in front of her.
‘Matilda Nightingale,’ says Joe, and her heart dances as a hot breeze tugs at the hem of her dress and she stands in front of a backdrop of books framed by the sea. ‘I know I’ll only ever be the second love of your life. I know that I will always have to wait for you in bookshops and that if our home were to goup in flames I’d have to save myself because you’d be busy grabbing your special-edition copy ofLittle Women…’
She had protested, but maybe there is the tiniest bit of truth in it. Joe is an athletic man. Whereas poor Jo, Meg, Amy and Beth couldn’t fend for themselves like he can.
‘… but I’m OK with all of that. Because I never for a second thought I’d be lucky enough to have even a little bit of this life we have. I promise I won’t make you turn the bedside light out when you’ve still got a chapter left to go. I promise to always keep spare space in my suitcase when we go on holiday so you can fill it with books. And I promise I won’t ever rush you when you’re browsing. Because I might not be much of a reader but I know how happy books make you. And all I want is to make you happy, Tilly.’
As she remembers that day her eyes fill, blurring the view of the canal in front of her.
‘Your mother-in-law didwhat?’ Alfie splutters.
The sound pulls Tilly back to the present, to the light on the water, the trees rustling above her and Alfie’s presence at her side, his face twisted in shock.
‘At Thanksgiving dinner, of all moments.’
Memories from that meal come rushing back to her: the smell of turkey and cranberries, how handsome Joe looked in his shirt and chinos because his mother always liked them to dress up for celebration dinners.
And Ellen saying across the table, ‘Are you sure you’ve really thought this through?’
The way Tilly’s stomach dropped at the words.
‘Wow, that must have been awful,’ says Alfie. ‘How did Joe take it?’
‘Not well. There was this big blow-up argument.’
And yet later that day, when it was just the two of them down by the lake, Joe locked eyes with her and said, ‘Maybe my mum has a point.’
Tilly’s heart gives a squeeze now and she lets out a breath.
‘It was never really talked about again after that. We got through the rest of the trip playing nice and pretending it hadn’t happened. And then we went back to London. Six months later Joe got sick.’ Her voice catches, remembering the day he told her about his diagnosis. She’d had her own news to tell him and couldn’t wait to get home to share it with him. But she never got the chance to.
‘We pulled together a small wedding quickly – just family. His parents and siblings flew over for it, and no one mentioned the conversation that had happened at Thanksgiving. Joe died nine months after our wedding.’
‘Tilly,’ says Alfie, pausing on the path and reaching out to place a hand on her arm, forcing her to stop walking too.
She’s aware that her breathing has become rapid but as his warm hand rests gently on her arm she forces herself to take steadying breaths. He doesn’t say anything, simply waits and watches, not turning away from her pain.
Once she’s regained control of her breathing, she continues, ‘I’m so glad we got to get married.Despitewhatever my in-laws might have said in the past. I’m so glad that he was my husband, even if we didn’t get long. I haven’t seen my in-laws since the funeral. But now my mother-in-law has invited me to go to America in July to spend the anniversary of Joe’s death with them. She’s also said she wants us to have a “talk”, although I have no idea what she could have to say to me. I feel like Ishouldgo. But I’m just not sure I can face it. It will be hard enough to get through the day, without having to be away from home, among my in-laws, and with all our issues simmering in the background.’
She lets out another breath, aware of how much she has just dumped on Alfie. But he doesn’t seem weighed down by it. He waits for a beat longer as if checking she has finished.
‘Thank you for trusting me with all of that. You’ve been through so much. It makes complete sense why you wouldn’t want to go and see them after the way they treated you,especiallynot on Joe’s anniversary. Anniversaries can be really tough. I remember the first one for my dad. I kept telling myself it was just a day like any other. Why should I feel the grief more keenly on any specific day? But it hit me hard. I was a mess. Give yourself space. And don’t worry about other people. You need to do what’s right foryouon that day. No one else.’
It’s as though a weight has lifted in Tilly’s chest. Just having spoken it all out loud has made her feel lighter.
‘Thank you. And maybe you’re right. But I know I can’t keep putting Ellen off forever. She can be persistent. And if she has something to tell me, I probably owe it to Joe to at least listen. Part of medoeswant to hear what she has to say. But I’m not sure I’m ready.’
‘And that’s OK. But you’ll get there.’
‘I hope so.’
‘Just think of how far you’ve come already this year. You’ve got back into reading. You’ve been to Bali, and you spent three weeks in Paris by yourself. Youquit your job. You’re training for a half-marathon. Your mother-in-law sounds like a nightmare, and you’d have every right never to see her again if that’s what you wanted. But if hearing what she has to say feels important to you, or if you think it might help you get closure, then you’ll handle it when you’re ready, just like you’ve handled everything else this year.’
A quiet descends, the two of them watching the reflections on the water, Tilly’s heart thumping hard inside her chest.
