‘Ever again?’ asks Reeni.
‘He’s probably only ringing to have a go at me. I’d’ve thought he’d be glad there’s no baby now. He can’t have really wanted one.’ My voice cracks and I swallow. ‘I did him a favour really.’
‘I don’t think that’s how …’
‘Honestly, Reeni. I don’t want to talk about it. Any of it. It’s over. Done.’ I look up at her, almost pleading. ‘Please.’
She takes a moment to study me and then shrugs. ‘OK. But if you ever need to, I’m here.’ She sticks her right hand towardsme. ‘Here, do this hand for me. I’m crap trying to paint with my left.’
I breathe out and reach for the pink varnish bottle, glad that at least Reeni has got my back.
Chapter Twenty-Two
By the time Aaron and Jackson arrive back with supplies, Reeni and I have a roaring fire going in the fire pit. We take the bags from them and head into the kitchen. I’m on automatic pilot, robotic almost, as I pull an entire array of crisps and biscuits and marshmallows out of the carrier bags.
I’m fighting with myself. I don’t want to have to tell him about that night. I want to hide the guilt and selfishly keep it all to myself. For a start off, I don’t want to have to relive it out loud. Until he came back into my life, I’d managed to bury my actions so deep that it rarely, if ever, reared its head. With Jackson back in my life, it’s fought its way to the surface and I’ve woken in tears more than once from revisiting that damned party. Drinking that garish pink drink from the plastic cup that crackled in my hand as I held it. I’m scared he’ll hate me, but part of me thinks that’s no more than I deserve, and he couldn’t hate me any more than I already hate myself.
However terrifying it is, I don’t think I have a choice if I want a future with him. And I do want that future.
‘I’m going to talk to him,’ I say, reaching up into the cupboard for some plates. I hadn’t intended to talk to him tonight. I was going to wait until we were on our own, but I feel like if Reeni is in the background, she’s my safety blanket if it all goes pear-shaped. If Jackson is going to hate me, I’ll need her.
Reeni stays quiet, knowing I haven’t finished talking.
‘Do you think he’ll be OK if I tell him about that night?’ I need her to tell me it’s going to be fine. Nothing is going to go disastrously wrong and I’m not going to ruin everything.
She twists the top off a bottle of white wine. ‘I don’t have a crystal ball, but he’s a good guy and it was stupid teenage shit. And whatever the outcome, it is something you need to do.’ She leans her hip against the counter to face me. ‘If it’s any help, opening up to Aaron feels like the best thing I’ve done in ages. It’s changed our relationship for the better. Jackson will understand. It was a hard time for both of you.’
I turn back to the mound of goodies, picking up several and hugging them to my chest, praying she’s right. ‘Will you stay around if I do it?’ I hold my breath, waiting for her to answer.
‘If you want me to, yes,’ she says, simply, as if it’s not the big deal I think it is.
I nod and we take plates full of snacks and glasses for the drinks already out by the fire pit.
The rest of the evening passes slowly. I stay quiet for most of it and conversation rolls around me as my insides thrash in turmoil. In contrast, Aaron and Reeni are at peace with each other in a way they haven’t been for a while. The conversation ebbs and flows, marshmallows are toasted, and we keep piling driftwood onto the fire to keep it dancing as the sunlight fades.
With the fire finally dying down, Reeni drags Aaron up off the bench. ‘Come on, let’s get everyone refills.’ As she pushes himtowards the kitchen, she raises her eyebrows at me, giving me the signal that she’s giving me space.
‘Didn’t you want to show me something?’ I ask Jackson, postponing what I really need to say to him for a little longer.
‘Not in the dark. You need to see it in the daylight. Tomorrow?’
I nod.
‘I don’t know where they’ve got to.’ He’s talking about the fact Reeni and Aaron haven’t reappeared. ‘They’ve obviously found something more interesting to do,’ says Jackson with a wink. We’re sitting facing outwards on one of the picnic table benches and he leans back on the table, stretching out his long legs in front of him.
I’m perched on the very edge of the bench, my back stiff and straight as I stare into orange glowing embers. The colours glow and fade as if they’re alive. Jackson is talking about his mum and today, and I should be listening and being supportive, but I only half hear the details. Instead, the memory of Sophie’s words is going around on a loop in my head and I’m trying to work up the courage to begin the most difficult conversation I think I’ll ever have to have.
He touches my arm and I start. He can tell there’s something eating at me.
‘What’s up?’
I’m going to have to speak, and I’m not sure what to say. What’s the best way to start a conversation where you’re about to tell the man you love it was your fault our baby died? That if you’d done things differently, she’d be here now.
‘I …’ I stay staring into the fire.
‘Ellie?’ He reaches out to take my hand and his gentle touch sears through my chest. ‘What’s wrong?’
It feels like there’s a large boulder lodged in the back of my throat and it’s choking me.
