‘You’re off out, I take it?’ Jack asks. ‘Going anywhere nice?’
Evie shrugs. ‘Just Tramps in Worcester.’
‘Tramps?’ He raises his eyebrows in surprise, while my heart rate escalates. If she’s referring to the Tramps I went to back in the day, it’s a nightclub.
‘Relax, Dad, it’s under-eighteens night.’ Evie sighs.
‘A dance rave,’ Imogen picks up. ‘Chart and R&B and no booze,’ she adds with an unimpressed eye-roll.
‘Ah, right.’ Jack looks relieved. ‘So do you need a lift?’
‘No, we’re good,’ Evie assures him. ‘Immy’s brother’s already offered.’
‘Right, well make sure he drives carefully or he’ll have me to answer to.’ Jack glances meaningfully between the two girls.
‘Don’t worry, Mr Conley, Liam’s the boring one in our family. He’s too frightened of getting stopped to go over the speed limit,’ Imogen says – and I feel myself reel, my heart twisting painfully as the memory I try to keep stuffed deep down inside shoots so starkly into my mind I can hear metal concertinaing against metal, taste the petrol fumes thick on the air.
I close my eyes, work to push it away. I’m happy here now, with Jack. I’ve grown to love him. I think he knows, though, that there will always be a piece of my heart missing.
‘I’d say your brother’s the sensible one,’ Jack comments as the girls head on, Imogen giving him a lingering look over her shoulder, at which Evie nudges her, I notice. ‘Back by ten o’clock, Evie. It’s a week night,’ he reminds her.
‘I know, I know,’ she responds with another world-weary sigh.
After watching them go, Jack turns to walk up the drive. ‘How did that happen? Did I blink and miss her growing up?’ he asks, shaking his head in bemusement as he circles his arms around me.
‘She’s not quite as grown up as she likes to think she is,’ I remind him. Hanging on to him for a moment, I breathe him in, feeling comforted by the solidity of him. ‘Speaking from a woman’s perspective,’ I add, not wanting him to think I believe I’m the font of all knowledge regarding children.
Kai’s little face flashes into my mind, his angelic smile, the crystal-clear innocence of childhood that shone from his eyes before his life was stolen away from him, and another wave of acrid grief washes over me. I’m not sure why the images are coming so often. I’ve learned to cope with the everyday heartache at his absence. The unexpected episodes, though, a tsunami of emotion crashing through me when I least expect it, those suck the breath from my body. I wonder sometimes whether they’ll ever stop. In a way, I don’t want them to. It’s when I allow myself to feel that I find myself in a place where I can reconnect with Kai, and Mark too; where I can almost taste, feel and smell my precious little boy. The idiot in the truck who’d crossed the central reservation while travelling at speed and looking at his phone can never take that away from me. Still, the fact that the flashbacks are coming more frequently lately destabilises me. I guess it’s my guilt at play because I’m having another child. Jemma, who is always happy to offer me a shoulder as well as professional advice, reminds me it’s survivor’s guilt. The tipping point for me had been when my beloved Lola had died. Having lost her little human friend and her master, I was sure she’d pined to death, and my guilt almostate me alive. Jack had been so supportive. I will be forever grateful for the kindness he’s shown me.
‘Am I sensing some sadness?’ he whispers, clearly noting my sudden need for bodily contact.
I nod and squeeze myself closer, grateful too that despite feeling I was betraying my husband’s memory, I’d allowed Jack into my life. I think it was because he’d suffered such tragedy himself that I’d felt safe with him, able to share my vulnerability.
‘Memories floating back?’ he asks perceptively after a moment.
I answer with another small nod and blink my tears back.
Easing away a little, he lifts my chin gently with his finger. ‘Don’t bury them,’ he says softly, his dark espresso eyes looking tenderly into mine. ‘They’re therapeutic. Nature’s way of processing and helping you heal.’
I feel myself melt inside. ‘Did I mention that I love you, Jack Conley?’ I murmur.
‘The feeling’s mutual,’ he says, a smile curving his mouth. ‘Shall we?’ He nods past me to the hall. ‘It’s getting a bit chilly out here.’
‘Oops.’ I step quickly inside, realising he’s only in his shirtsleeves.
He follows me in, closing the door behind him. ‘I’m guessing Evie’s been acting up. Am I right?’
‘She is a bit moody,’ I admit, heading to the kitchen to turn on the coffee filter.
‘Sorry.’ Jack sighs as he follows me. ‘She’s not easy right now, is she?’
‘It’s understandable.’ I turn to give him a smile. ‘With all she’s had to deal with, she’ll be struggling to find her identity, which is important at her age.’
‘You’re probably right,’ he concedes. ‘I’m not sure she’ll ever come to terms with what happened to her mother. I should probably look at some more counselling for her.’
‘It might be an idea,’ I agree. Jack has taken her to a counsellor recommended by the GP, but Jemma asks about her often, wondering how’s she’s coping.
Jemma is extremely easy to talk to, never judgemental. When, racked with guilt, I’d confided in her about my involvement with Jack, she encouraged me to go for it. ‘An overriding symptom of survivor’s guilt is to blame yourself,’ she’d reminded me. ‘Even when you couldn’t have done anything to change what happened, you tend to develop negative beliefs about yourself, seeing yourself as a bad person. You’re not a bad person, Kara,’ she’d added, reaching for my hand. ‘You deserve some happiness. Jack does too.’She had helped me move forward. I’m sure she could help Evie, too.
