The mug in Lissa’s hands stops part way to her lips. She doesn’t really know how to answer that question. Her mum has asked about her health a lot in the past, insisting on doctors’ appointments for every little thing when she was a teenager. Lissa knows that even if she blames her for Chloe, her mum also worries about losing the only daughter she has left.
‘Yeah, Mum,’ she says slowly. ‘I’m okay.’
She decides not to bring up the past-life thing – her mum would have her straight to a psychiatrist.
‘And are you … happy?’ Just what exactly has Mia been saying to make her ask these questions?
‘I’m …’ But she doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. Is she happy? She doesn’t think she’sunhappy. And there are moments, of course, that are filled with joy – laughing with Darcy about something stupid, curled up on the sofa with Mia. Dancing with Ash in the middle of some random pub. No. Not Ash.Stop thinking about him, Lissa.
She settles with ‘I’m fine, Mum. Do you want a biscuit to go with the tea?’ She gets to her feet before Esme can answer, heading for the cupboard and the spare pack of digestives she has in case of emergency.
She holds out the packet to her mum, who takes one, staring down at it. ‘Lissa? Why did you stay in Bath?’
Lissa frowns as she comes back to the sofa. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you could have got a job anywhere. Moved to London or something. Or even gone travelling, like all you young people. So why didn’t you?’
‘Because …’ She sighs, unable to think of an excuse quickly enough. ‘Because you need me, Mum.’
Her mum peers over at her. Her eyes seem very clear, very focused today. ‘You know, I don’t remember much of what I said before … before Christmas.’ It’s not very specific, but Lissa knows she’s talking about the latest ‘episode’, or whatever you want to call it. When she told Lissa to get out, then begged her not to leave. ‘But I … I know you came to help me. So thank you for that.’ The words are a little stilted, but Lissa thinks they’re sincere.
She opens her mouth, shuts it again. Shoves a biscuit in her mouth so she doesn’t have to talk. They never usually address these things directly. Never usually talk about what happens when her mum gets lost like that. They put it behind them, move on. It’s the only way they know how to function.
‘I … I’m talking to someone,’ her mum continues. ‘Someone at work suggested it, and, you know, because I work for the NHS, I was able to get an appointment.’
Lissa is about to ask what appointment she means when she realises – therapy. Her mum is getting some kind of therapy.
‘I suppose what I’m trying to say is that, well, I’m trying. To get better. To work on it. And that I’m sorry. For not trying sooner. Anyway,’ she says abruptly, getting to her feet and effectively stopping – or saving – Lissa from responding to that, ‘I just popped round to give you your gift. And I’m sure you have plans this evening, don’t you?’
Lissa nods. ‘I’m seeing Darcy and Mia for drinks.’
‘Well then.’ Esme sets her tea and uneaten biscuit down on the coffee table. Hesitates, then reaches over to give Lissa an awkward pat on the back. ‘Happy birthday. I’ll see you soon, okay?’
‘Okay. Thanks, Mum.’ And she watches her mum leave the flat, wondering what it means that she’s tried to talk to her, in even a small way, about this. If there’s a chance, maybe, that she’ll get better. Or if it’s only a matter of time before she spirals again.
‘She’s here!’ Darcy gets up from the corner table in the pub, where she’s sitting with Mia and a woman Lissa doesn’t recognise, with short platinum-blonde hair, high cheekbones and expertly applied gold eyeliner. Lottie, she realises – this must be Lottie. She told Mia to invite her, given that Lottie is only over from New York for the week, but Mia was very non-committal about the whole thing.
‘Happy birthday, sweets,’ Darcy says, pulling her into a hug before dragging her over to the table, where there are already three packets of crisps, and a bottle of white wine chilling in a cooler.
Mia hugs her too as she slides into the booth. ‘Happy birthday, Bissa.’ She pulls back, then gestures towards a smiling Lottie. ‘Lottie, this is Lissa.’
‘Lissa!’ Lottie has a brilliant New York accent, and she sounds totally delighted. ‘I’m so pleased to meet you! Thank you for letting me crash your birthday drinks.’
‘Of course. I’m so happy you came.’ Under the table, Lissa catches Mia taking Lottie’s hand in hers and squeezing.
Darcy fills the spare glass with wine, slides it over across the water-stained wooden table. ‘So … no Ash?’
‘Nope,’ Lissa says lightly, taking a sip of the Sauvignon. ‘Just us girls.’
‘Didn’t fancy inviting him, then?’
She chews the inside of her lip. ‘Ash and I … we’re taking a bit of a break.’
‘A break?’ Mia asks, while Lottie tears the crisp packets open so they lie flat on the table for everyone to help themselves to. ‘A break from what, exactly?
‘I don’t know. Our friendship? It was just getting a little …’ Lissa gestures with her wine glass. ‘Intense.’ Mia and Darcy exchange a look at that, though they say nothing.
She hasn’t really spoken to him since the night at the bar. The night they kissed. She feels awful for the way she treated him, telling him he didn’t understand, when he’s clearly got his own stuff going on. But it’s for the best, she’s sure of it. She doesn’t want to get in deep with anyone, especially someone who might leave at any moment. And it’s not like she can pick up and leave with him, is it?
