I grin and give him a push. ‘I’ll be fine. Say hi to your mum from me.’
Chapter Twenty
As the VW van drives away, Jackson comes over, carrying a wine bottle and two glasses. He offers the bottle up. ‘I need a drink. Do you want one?’
I shake my head. ‘I don’t drink.’
He looks at me, then puts the glasses and the wine bottle down on the table behind him before moving over to the fire pit. There’s a pile of driftwood at his feet and he grabs a couple of pieces and throws them on the embers, reigniting the fire. The flames in the bowl flicker and leap, every loud crackle or pop sending streaks of bright orange flying up into the air along with wisps of smoke which wind their way to nothing.
‘Do you want to go for a walk on the beach?’
I look in the direction of the sea. It’s pitch black and the sound of the waves washing up on the sand is amplified in the silence. I don’t like the sea at the best of times, but find it menacing at night.
‘No. I don’t.’
His shoulders hunch as he keeps his head down and shuffles his feet, twisting them into the sand. The new driftwood in the fire bowl collapses with a sharp crackle, sending sparks flitting around the air again as if they’re alive.
I put my glass down and tip my head back and stare up into the inky blackness. It’s peppered with pinpricks of stars and a perfect glowing chunky crescent moon. I’m not sure what to say to him and I don’t want to make things worse. I want him to talk to me, but the silence grows between us. He won’t even look in my direction. I can’t stand the atmosphere any longer.
I stand. ‘If you’re not going to talk, I’m going in.’
His head snaps up. ‘Don’t go.’ He runs his fingers through the waves of his hair. ‘I don’t know what to say. I’ve apologised so many times in my head to you and now I’m here, I don’t know how to.’
That strikes a chord. I could have uttered that exact sentence myself. It stalls me.
His eyes are dark and haunted as he looks at me.
‘Just try,’ I say, willing him to keep talking.
He turns to face the fire again and it bathes his body in a moving orangey light as the flames shift and dance. I understand the need to look away as you talk. It’s easier.
‘I didn’t want to listen. I still can’t believe it’s true, even though deep down I knew it was.’ His voice is steeped in pain and anguish and it pierces my heart.
I walk over to stand by him and stare into the fire. There’s a gap between us, but I’m acutely aware of him next to me, as if there’s a current jumping back and forth between us.
‘I can’t imagine her not being here.’ His voice cracks and I can hear the tears. ‘She has so much life left to live. I wanted her to fight it. I thought she could.’ His voice fades.
‘There are some things no matter how hard you try, youcan’t fight.’ I keep my eyes trained on the flames. ‘It’s not that she didn’t want to. She doesn’t want to leave you. It isn’t a punishment for not being good enough.’
‘I sometimes feel like if I could have been better. Looked after her more. Maybe if I’d …’
I don’t let him continue because he will only torment himself. I reach out and hold his arm. ‘She’s not choosing to leave, Jackson. She loves you and Milo. This isn’t her giving up. It’s her facing the inevitable.’
His head turns towards me and his eyes search mine.
‘I don’t want her to die,’ he repeats with a sob. Tears are falling down his face. ‘It’s not fair. Why does it have to be her?’
He sounds like a wounded animal and the pain in his eyes is taking a sledgehammer to my heart and shattering it into a million jagged pieces.
‘And I’m sorry for what I said to you. How I spoke to you. I should never …’
I pull him towards me and put both hands on either side of his face, his skin hot under my fingers. ‘You don’t have to apologise. I was wrong too.’ His stubble is spiky under my thumb. ‘I’m so sorry, Jackson.’I know how debilitating this kind of hurt is. And if I could take it all away, I would.
The tears well in my own eyes. Empathy for him and Milo and Sophie and for my own loss. It’s as if the pain knows where to settle to hurt me the most because it’s been there so many times before. A tear spills over, leaving a warm trail in its wake.
‘No, Ellie. Please don’t get upset. Please. I didn’t mean to make you cry.’ He gently brushes my face dry. ‘I’m sorry. This is all my fault. I’ve got everything wrong.’
‘You haven’t. You’ve been there for your mum, for Milo. You’ve never run away from things when they’ve got hard.’ I don’t just mean about his mum, and I hope he knows that.
