Jenny’s words indicated that she would rather have not. This realisation was enough to flood Enya’s veins with sorrow. She just about managed a life without Jonathan, but a life without Jenny too? She felt the rise of tears in her throat and the beginnings of panic.
‘I’m so glad.’ She meant it, having had no reply to the texts she had sent her, sending love and hoping she was doing okay... Enya had feared the longer it went on, the harder it would be to face each other. Not that this encounter was easy, none of this was easy.
‘It just doesn’t feel real.’ Holly spoke again with that scratchy, barely audible voice. ‘I don’t want to see him. Well, sometimes I do, but I don’t think I’m able to. But is he okay?’
Enya pictured her son jumping up and down on the spot at the prospect of Iris’s arrival, how quickly his heart had moved on, forgotten. It angered and hurt her in equal measure.
‘He’s okay.’
‘Good.’ Holly took a deep breath. ‘Good. I know we need to sort things out, like the flat and stuff, but could you ask him if we can do that in a couple of days, just give me a little bit of time to get my head straight.’ Holly looked up to fully reveal her eyes, which were a little vacant and small, like someone had come along and erased her sparkle. ‘Did I do something wrong, do you think?’ Her question and the pitiful hum of sadness behind it was as moving as it was misplaced.
Jenny tutted, her jaw tense, as she exchanged a look with Angela.
‘You did nothing wrong, Holly. You’re wonderful.’ Enya meant it, feeling a flash of disloyalty as rage sparked, remembering it was Aiden who had thrown the rock, caused the ripples.
‘I’ve told her she won’t always feel this way,’ Jenny placated, looking only at Angela, as if it were easier to address her than Enya, the mother of the boy who had caused this. Enya wondered what Jenny would like to do to Aiden if her resentment towards Blake Dunlop, who had merely kicked an art project decades ago, was anything to go by.
‘It’s true.’ She hoped her confirmation might help drive the message home.
‘It’s, it’s not only that I lose Aiden,’ Holly paused, ‘but I lose you, this house, Pickle, I lose a decade of my life, and the way coming home to this street feels. I lose bits of my childhood and I lose the life I’ve built around us. I lose the future that I imagined.’
‘That’s not true. You don’t lose me or Pickle, or this house.’ Enya smiled at the girl, knowing this was a lie and that Holly Hudson did indeed lose all of these things. She also knew that herown loss was not dissimilar, Jenny’s friendship something she prized highly, and their business venture, which had kept her upbeat, filling the void of her upcoming retirement, and yet now unlikely to happen. She took a deep breath, trying to stave off the panic that threatened.
‘I think we all remember having our heart broken,’ Angela piped up. ‘It feels like the end of the world because it’s supposed to.’
Enya stared at her sister, silently pleading for her to go gently.
‘It’s supposed to because the strongest things are forged in fire, Holly. You get burned but you emerge from the ashes stronger than you ever thought possible. Like a phoenix rising from the flames. That will happen to you, even if you don’t believe it right now.’
‘I . . . I don’t,’ Holly hiccupped.
Angela spoke with conviction. ‘But you will. And when you do, you will not only have found strength, but power too. A woman who has gone through this is metamorphosed and the version of her who comes after takes no shit. She knows herself and she will never be beholden to anyone, she will never again put responsibility for her own happiness in the pocket of another. She is self-reliant and knowing, and in time you will thank him for the chance to change.’
Enya and Jenny stared at Angela, both more than a little taken aback by her wisdom. There was truth in it, yet Enya dared not admit she was still waiting to rise from the ashes, still bound in marriage to a man who had died, trying to find the wings that would give her the courage to take flight.
‘Thank you, Angela.’ Holly did her best to smile. ‘Maybe I will have a cup of tea, Enya, if that’s okay?’
‘Of course it is!’
Enya jumped up, happy to have to fill the kettle, a diversion that she knew could buy her at least three minutes.
Chapter Fifteen
It had been an emotional day, a tiring one. Aiden had listened quietly when she recounted Holly’s visit over supper. Losing his appetite, he had put down the fork and abandoned his pasta.
‘I’m just not hungry right now, Mum. I couldn’t eat a big dinner. Think I’ll have an early night.’
‘I understand, love. See you in the morning.’
And just like that her flames of anger at how much Holly was hurting, and the reasons for it, were partially extinguished. She was torn, feeling sorry for her son, who was guilty of being young and impetuous, while at the same time only able to imagine what it was like for Holly. It was a desperate situation that felt fragile for them all. Even trying to figure out how to successfully tread this middle ground was exhausting.
‘What am I going to do, Jonathan?’ she asked her husband, who sat in his chair, legs stretched out, as they watchedDeath in Paradiseon the telly. ‘And Angela can talk, but it’s not easy. I feel like I’m adjudicating the whole carry-on, and I don’t know how I manage it without you. I wish you were here. You’d know what to do.’
Desolation wrapped her tightly, threatening to suffocate her. She felt his absence, knowing she would give anything to feel his arms around her, his hand holding hers, just for a second. It was anunwelcome pull of emotion that made her cough and sniff, wary that if she gave in to them, those darn tears just might not stop.
As the credits rolled, she let Pickle out for the night, kissing her head and giving advice about not mixing with any of those rough cats who might try and lead her astray.
‘Make good choices, little Pickle, and do not, under any circumstances, shit in Maeve’s garden. It might send her over the edge and over our wall, neither of which we want.’
