‘But …?’
I swallow. ‘I don’t know if I’m up to it.’
Simon’s brow wrinkles. ‘But you don’t have to do anything. I’ll drive up there. I’ve booked a hotel. We can get cabs to and from the venues.All you have to do is sit there and enjoy yourself. Fill the well … You’ve been saying you needed to do that, right?’
I nod sadly. He’s tried so hard. I’m tempted to take back what I’ve said, to endure the noise, the lights, the people, but I can’t. I have a feeling overloading myself that way will put me back months.
I kiss him again. ‘I’m so sorry … But I have to listen to my brain and my body. I don’t think I can do this so soon. Maybe next year?’
‘Of course.’ He nods. ‘Whatever you need. It’s fine.’
I can tell he’s upset as he stands up and sees the contents of the hamper splayed all over the dining table. I pick up a packet and tear it open, paste on a bright smile. ‘Shortbread?’
He takes one and attempts an answering smile. ‘Listen … I’m going to change out of these work clothes. After that, I’ll heat up some of that casserole we made at the weekend, okay?’
‘Okay.’
I wait for a minute or two, but the atmosphere between us is bothering me. It’s like an itch I need to scratch. I need to sort this out now, smooth things over. I stand up and walk down the hallway. The bedroom door is ajar and I’m about to push it open when I hear Simon’s voice.
‘What am I going to do? I don’t suppose you want tickets to the Edinburgh Festival, do you?’
There’s a few seconds of silence and I realize he’s on the phone.
‘Yeah. No … Right. It was worth a shot. But seriously, what do I do?’
Is he talking to my mum? I know they’ve been in cahoots with each other since my accident.I know I should back away and leave him to it, but I need to know if my hunch is right. However, I haven’t got much to go on, as Simon is mostly silent. The person on the other end of the line is obviously dominating the conversation.
‘Yeah … Yeah … I’ll think it over. Thanks for that. I’ll let you know, okay?’
I get the feeling farewells are imminent and I skulk away like a guilty child.
When Simon comes back into the living area, he finds me putting the contents of my hamper away in the kitchen cupboards. Maybe I’ll save the champers until I’ve got the all-clear from the doctors to have a drink now and then – if I ever do.
Simon rubs his hands together. ‘How about that casserole, then? And what do you want with it? Rice or mash?’
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Five years ago
Are you awake?
The message lights up the phone on the windowsill beside his bed. He blearily rubs his eyes and picks it up. It’s just gone five. He’s a bit of an early bird, so he’ll be getting up soon, anyway. Can’t seem to stay asleep past six, even if someone offered to pay him.
Yeahhe taps in.What’s up?
Had a nightmare.
She doesn’t say any more than that. Doesn’t need to. She’s told him all about her nightmares, how they crawl into her brain in the early hours of the morning, their bony fingers swirling dark mists inside her head. It has to be … what? Midnight or thereabouts on her side of the Atlantic?
He doesn’t ask about the subject matter. It’s always the same.That night. Megan. He had dreams like that for weeks afterwards, but they seem to have left him alone now.
What do you want to talk about?he asks.
Not about the dream. It’s too soon, although she might tell him later, or in a few days. Right afterwards, she likes to chat about something light, something happy that’ll take her mind off it. He racks his sleep-blurred brain for the right topic, but before he can come up with anything, another message arrives.
Tell me about Lapland. About the Northern Lights.
He feels as if a bowling ball has landed right in his gut. She keeps going back to this. And it’s the last thing he wants to talk about. He hated lying to her about Christmas. But he couldn’t tell her the truth. Not yet. And maybe not ever. Because he’s got himself in far too deep and he doesn’t know how to get out again.
