‘Here?’ Lissa asks, gesturing around to the park, with its open meadows and ancient trees. ‘Fancy place to settle.’
Ash laughs, and she’s glad to take a little of that sad edge away, one that has lingered since she caught him in the kitchen, staring into the fridge. They’re quiet as they walk through the garden, and Lissa waits, not sure if he wants to keep talking.
She gets her answer when he says, ‘He fought in the Falklands, believe it or not. He met my mum later – she used to work for an NGO, and they met while he was on a posting. He never really talks about it much, so it took me a while to figure out that he had PTSD. Although I suppose I didn’t even know what that was, and by the time I understood, he was just Dad and that was the way he was. He always dealt. But when Mum died, it was like … I don’t know. Like the thing that was holding him together just snapped.’
He leads them down to a serpentine lake with a stone bridge reflected in the water underneath. The bridge is two storeys high, a mini temple-like structure on top of it.
‘How did she die?’ Lissa asks. ‘Your mum.’
He glances at her. ‘Aneurysm.’ She sucks in a breath and he shakes his head. ‘No way we could have known. Happens like that sometimes, the doctors said. She had a bad headache and Dad insisted on driving her to hospital, but she died on the way.’
Lissa feels sick. ‘That is awful. I’m so sorry you had to go through it.’ She realises it’s the same thing he said to her about her sister. This shared language between people who have experienced grief. A club no one wants to be a part of.
Ash steps onto the bridge, running one hand along the stone railing. ‘He just broke after that,’ he continues, not really acknowledging her words, staring into the water, his reflection merging with that of the bridge. It’s getting late, a cool breeze whisking across the lake, the blue sky slowly muting into subtle orange and pinks. ‘He used to be able to force himself to leave the house, even when he was stressed. Or, I don’t know, maybe Mum forced him. But when she died, he didn’t set foot outside for weeks. And he never really got better.’
‘Agoraphobia,’ Lissa murmurs.
He gives her a funny look, and she wonders if she’s said the wrong thing, giving it a name like that. But then he nods. ‘Yeah. I guess. He’s not well,’ he repeats. ‘Physically too, I mean. And he gets confused, and that doesn’t help.’ She thinks again of the keys in the fridge. But maybe talking about that is a step too far just now. Maybe Ash needs time to come to terms with what it might mean.
‘He needs to be somewhere with more support, really,’ he says, running a hand over his face. Tired, she realises. He looks tired. ‘He has a cleaner, and he gets food shopping delivered, but it’s not enough, and if I’m not here …’
‘It’s why you came back,’ she says quietly, and he nods.
‘Yeah. He had a fall. The stairs are getting a bit much now, with his leg, and he got up in the middle of the night and … He called me when it happened. He called me, and I wasn’t there.’
‘It wasn’t your fault that he fell, Ash,’ she says, keeping her gaze on his face even if he doesn’t look back. He shakes his head, and she knows that look. She knows it’s pointless trying to argue. ‘But he was okay?’ she asks instead.
‘Yeah,’ he mutters, and there is a trace of bitterness to his voice now. ‘Yeah, he was okay. But he might not have been.’ The guilt, she remembers. He’d said he understood the guilt. ‘I tried to take him to look around a care home a while back. It was actually really nice – assisted living more than anything, nice gardens, people seemed friendly. But he couldn’t get out the car when we got there. And I just couldn’t do it to him. I couldn’t force him to leave his home.’
You don’t get it, she’d told him. How wrong she was.
They are quiet for a moment, then Lissa leans back against the railings. ‘Why did you ask me to meet you today?’
‘Because …’ He runs a hand down the back of his neck. ‘Because I meant what I said, about seeing the whole you.’ Something inside her tightens at that. At the way he holds her gaze as he says it. ‘I can’t quite explain it, but Ifeelit. So I suppose I want you to know the whole me, too. And this,’ he gestures around, not at the park but at something bigger, ‘my dad, is part of it.’ The part hiding, she thinks, beneath the smiles and easy laugh. She wonders if that’s the part she feels drawn to.
‘I also …’ He leans both hands on the railing next to her. ‘I know you don’t like that I’ve seen you when things get too much.’ It’s a kind way of phrasing it –seen you at your worstwould be more accurate. ‘But I thought maybe you’d understand that I’m not ignoring it. That I do get it.’ Because he’s lived with it, she thinks. Or a version of it.
But Lissa isn’t that bad. It’s a horrible thought, but it comes before she can stop it, the way thoughts often do. She can leave the house, she can function. She doesn’t ever fall apart completely. But would that happen if she let it get worse? She wants to think not, but how can she be sure? She wonders briefly if that’s another reason Ash brought her here – as some kind of warning. Somehow, though, she doesn’t think so.
‘Also,’ he says, and his tone is a touch lighter, ‘I wanted you to meet my dad.’
She laughs – and she loves how he can make her laugh after all that. He grins down at her, then, without warning, pushes himself up onto the stone railing and starts walking along the edge of the bridge towards the mini temple-like structure.
Lissa’s heart lurches. ‘What are you doing?’ It’s a harsh snap. She didn’t mean it to be. Her throat is dry as she looks down at the water. Imagines him falling. Imagines him hitting his head, the way the blood would gush …
He doesn’t seem to hear her. She follows him on the main walkway. ‘Ash,’ she says, trying to level out her voice.
He glances down at her, raising one eyebrow. ‘You know, I’ve got pretty good balance.’
She bites her lip, looking at the water again. It’s not that far, she tells herself. He’d be fine.
She can still see it, though. Him falling. Bleeding.
Water surrounding her. Pulling her under.
Snap out of it, Lissa.
He’s looking at her curiously. ‘You okay?’
