Lissa frowns. ‘What do you mean?’
Nicole gestures to the passenger seat and Lissa nods. When her stepmum hops in, she cuts the engine.
‘It’s just,’ Nicole says, twisting the bracelet again, ‘I felt guilty for taking your dad away after you’d already been through so much. And I wish, looking back, that I’d stepped in more. It’s none of my business, your relationship with your mum,’ she goes on carefully, ‘but I could see when you were younger that you might have needed someone to talk to. But I was pregnant with Elsie, and we worried about what that would mean to you. Your dad was terrified about having another child, and I just …’ She swallows. ‘I could have done more.’
Lissa takes a moment to process that. The fact that her dad was terrified as much as anything else. ‘You couldn’t have,’ she says eventually. She doesn’t think she would have accepted help even if Nicole had tried to give it. And her mum certainly wouldn’t have.
‘I could have tried,’ Nicole insists.
Lissa thinks of Ash, asking if she ever tried to get to know Nicole. ‘We both could have,’ she says.
Nicole pushes a hand through her perfectly styled hair. ‘I’ve been a little protective of Elsie.’ Said like an admission. ‘Your dad … Well, it’s been hard to know what the right thing to do is.’ Lissa can see it now. The death of a child lingering over them all.
‘You don’t have to explain anything to me,’ she says. ‘But for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a good job.’ Elsie seems happy and healthy, and willing to let Lissa in after years of a strained relationship. And that, as far as she is concerned, suggests good parenting.
Nicole smiles. ‘Thank you for saying that.’
‘I mean it. She’s pretty great.’
‘Yes. She is.’ She pauses. ‘Your dad … I know he doesn’t talk about it much, but he still holds Chloe in his heart. I just thought maybe you’d like to know that.’
Lissa swallows, nods. Nicole reaches for her hand, and Lissa lets her take it, feeling the pressure of Nicole’s wedding band on her skin. ‘And I hope you know too that you’ll always have a place in this family.’
Lissa squeezes Nicole’s hand back. ‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘I think I’m starting to.’
A new start, she thinks. And hope on the horizon.
Chapter Thirty-Two
It takes her a moment when she wakes to realise what day it is. Because for the first time in as long as she can remember, she doesn’t start the day being dragged from a nightmare, doesn’t feel the water pulling her under in her sleep. Maybe because she knows now that the nightmares were never about Chloe.
The sky is heavy with unshed rain as she heads up the hill to her mum’s house. An ominous sign, maybe, but she’s feeling weirdly positive. Like maybe this is the year it can be different. That they can celebrate Chloe – or at least finally take steps to put what happened behind them.
It’s only when she reaches her mum’s street, the trees along the verge showing the first signs of turning russet with autumn, that the nerves begin in her stomach.
She pushes the front door open tentatively, the way she always does.
‘Mum?’ But already she can smell it, a kind of sourness inside the house. Her stomach rolls.
And there she is, in the living room. Standing by a fire she’s lit, even though it’s warm outside, throwing photos into the flames. Lissa watches one curl in on itself, a smiling face turning black with soot.
She moves quickly across the room, grabs her mum’s hand before she can throw the next one in. ‘Mum, no,’ she says, holding tight when Esme tries to shake her off. She’s still in her nightgown. A nightgown that holds a whiff of that same sour smell.
‘You’ll regret this,’ Lissa continues, forcing the photos out of her mum’s grip. She doesn’t look at them. She doesn’t think she wants to know which parts of her life her mum is turning to ash.
Esme blinks at her. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I told you I’d be here.’ Lissa’s voice is gentle, though her insides are screaming at her. Telling her what an idiot she is to have expected anything different.
She leads her mum to the sofa, sits her down. Esme reaches for a glass of clear, strong-smelling liquid on the coffee table, and Lissa immediately takes it from her. Her mum says nothing, just stares up at her out of red-rimmed eyes.
Lissa feels her heart twist. She wishes she could walk away. Knows she never will. ‘I’ll make you some breakfast,’ she says, turning away and taking the glass with her.
But her mum reaches out to take her arm, her fingers clammy on Lissa’s skin. ‘It’s our fault, Alyssa,’ she whispers, her voice hoarse. ‘It will always be our fault.’
Some things, Lissa supposes, will never change.
The rain starts as she gets back to her road, light droplets spotting her face. Because of it, she’s looking down, so she doesn’t see him until she’s nearly on top of him. He’s heading towards her, away from her flat, his eyes also downcast, wearing a leather jacket that she thinks, bizarrely, will be damaged if the rain gets worse. He looks up as they nearly collide, his gaze catching hers. And her heart stutters.
