‘You were only a child, Lissa.’ She can feel the vibration of his voice against her chest.
She shakes her head as best she can. ‘I was twelve.’
‘A child,’ he repeats firmly. ‘You can’t blame yourself.’
‘I can.’ Her voice is bitter. ‘I do.’
He pulls back just a little, so he can see her face. ‘How did she die?’
She hesitates. ‘She drowned.’
‘An accident?’
Lissa frowns, shakes her head again. ‘No.’
He looks like he might contradict her on that, but instead he reaches out, brushes a strand of her hair back from her face. ‘I’m so sorry it happened to you, Lissa. I’m so sorry that it happened to your mum, too. But it’s not your fault.’ He repeats it like that’s all that’s needed for her to believe it. Like all he needs to do is say that, and it will magically be better.
‘You don’t get it,’ she repeats. She pushes him away, then starts to walk again, heading towards her building.
‘Maybe not,’ he says evenly. ‘But I lost someone too.’ She looks around at that – she can’t help it. ‘My mum,’ he continues. ‘She died when I was a teenager.’
She turns all the way round, and it’s her turn now to step towards him. This is why he speaks of loss like he knows it. ‘Ash—’
He holds up a hand to stop her. ‘My dad didn’t ever recover from it. That’s why I’m here, in Bath. Because he needs me. Because he’s not okay – he hasn’t ever been, not really – and I’ve been trying to run away from that. So I do get it,’ he says, with a self-deprecating smile. ‘The guilt. It’s not the same, but I think I do get it.’
Her heart twists for him, but she doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t know how to take back what she spat at him. For a moment, they just stare at each other. Then Lissa swallows.
‘We shouldn’t have …’ She sighs. ‘This can’t go anywhere, Ash,’ she murmurs, keeping her gaze on his. ‘Between us. You don’t … When you look at me, I don’t think you see just how broken I am. I think you see a version of me that doesn’t exist.’ And it’s best, isn’t it, to admit that now, before anyone gets hurt. Before he realises how damaged she is and takes off, or beforeshedoes something to hurt him because, as Saskia pointed out to her, she is so lost in the past.
He looks at her for another long moment, and she feels her pulse beating against her wrist. She tenses as he moves towards her, but all he does is lean down and press a chaste kiss to her cheek. There’s a whisper of his breath against her ear as he pulls away, and her muscles tighten and quiver.
It feels like a goodbye, she realises. She doesn’t know why that should hurt quite so much.
‘It doesn’t have to go anywhere,’ he says. ‘Not if you don’t want it to.’ He backs away, ready to turn, to leave. ‘But Lissa? Just so you know, I’m pretty sure that when I look at you, I do see the broken parts.’ Her breath hitches just a little as he holds her gaze. ‘I’m pretty sure that when I look at you, I see all of you.’
Chapter Eighteen
Esme sits awkwardly on Lissa’s sofa, looking out of place in the flat. She hardly ever comes here – in fact Lissa is pretty sure she can only remember her coming for the obligatory look around when she first moved in, years ago. She’s aware of the damp in the corner of the living room, the stain on the rug from spilling something or other. Not that she should worry about that, probably, given the state her mum’s house is so often in, but still.
She crosses to the sofa, holding two mugs, and hands her mum the milky tea, keeping the mint for herself. Esme smiles as she takes it, and Lissa props herself awkwardly on the other side of the sofa. Her mum is still in her blue nursing uniform, carrying with her the faint smell of antiseptic. She looks tired, dark circles under the hazel eyes she shares with Lissa, her grey hair just a little greasy. Lissa wonders sometimes which side of her mum the patients get to meet – whether she is a welcome presence on the ward. Then tells herself that’s an awful thing to think.
‘Here,’ her mum says, reaching into her bag and producing a birthday card, along with a small wrapped present. ‘I wanted to get you a cupcake, too, you know, from the nice place next to the hospital, but they were all out.’
Lissa glances from the card to her mum’s pale face and back again. ‘That’s so nice, thanks, Mum.’ She takes the card and present, hesitating slightly before opening them. They don’t usually do this – exchange gifts on birthdays. The card is a simple balloon birthday card, withTo Lissa, From Mumwritten inside. The present is a selection of bracelets from Accessorize, gold and blue. Blue like the colour of Ash’s eyes.
No, Lissa.
‘These are so pretty.’ She slips them onto her wrist. ‘Thank you,’ she says again.
Her mum gives a little shrug of acknowledgement, takes a sip of her tea.
‘So how was work?’ Lissa asks.
‘Oh, you know. Tiring.’ Esme shifts on the sofa, angling towards her. ‘But on the subject of work … Mia told me you’re not very happy in your job.’
Bloody Mia. She’ll have to have a word. ‘Did she now? And what else did she say?’
‘Oh, not much really. But I just, I wanted to check … are you okay?’
