‘I just think, Ange, that we all have those attractions, those flickers of interest, all of us. It might be someone we meet or see on the telly or someone we walk past in the street. No one is immune, it’s easy! That moment of instant attraction, it doesn’t go away, does it, no matter how old we get. The lure of someone shinier than the dulled thing we have grown used to. It’s exciting, enticing! The hard bit is remembering what’s important and why we married or chose the person we’re with. It’s about understanding the difference between a fleeting moment of physical attraction and the deep connection to the person we’ve built a life with.’
‘Yes, Ens, but if that person is no longer alive...’ She let this trail.
They were both silent for a moment, as this fact settled.
‘I need to focus all my attention on my son. He’s going through a lot and what if this thing between Dominic and me is just a crush that would run its course, and quickly too. Can you imagine causing all that chaos, for nothing.’ She shook her head.
‘You think it’s just an infatuation?’
‘Maybe.’
‘So why are you crying, baby girl?’ Her sister reached for her hand. Enya hadn’t realised she was and curled her fingers around her sister’s palm.
‘Because I can’t stop thinking about every word he said and the way he looked at me and the way he makes me feel, made me feel,’ she corrected.
‘It’s a big step. The first time, I’m guessing, that you’ve felt anything really, since Jonathan died, and that’s huge, but alsohopeful. It shows you’re capable and that when the time is right...’ Angela made a clicking noise, as if enough said.
‘That’s another thing, and kind of the reason I called you.’ Enya bit the inside of her cheek, knowing this was a tricky subject for her to navigate.
‘And there was me thinking the big news was your impending grannyhood and the fact that you may or may not have had a dalliance with your son’s soon to be father-in-law!’
Enya gave a wry laugh. Her sister was right, it was a lot.
‘So, tell me,’ Angela encouraged.
‘It’s about Jonathan,’ she began. ‘I think he might have gone.’
She saw the flicker of confusion in her sister’s eye. ‘We know this, Enya. I was at the funeral.’
‘No,’ she shook her head, ‘I mean, I can’t see him, he’s not here.’
‘Do you mean...’ Angela licked her lip, as if figuring out how to phrase it.
‘I mean that I still see him. I still, stillseehim. All the time.’ She couldn’t think how else to explain it.
‘You do?’ Angela comically looked behind her as if half expecting him to pop up.
Enya nodded.
‘What does he look like?’
‘You know what Jonathan looks like!’
‘Yes, but does he, erm, I’m trying to put it delicately.’ Angela paused, and Enya laughed again.
‘Well, that’s a first!’ Her big sister wasn’t known for her tact.
‘What I’m trying to establish,’ Angela ignored her jibe, ‘is does he look like he did before he died?’
Enya pictured him in his last days, a husk of the man he once was. Prematurely aged, with pale skin almost translucent, pulled over ashy bone, eyes sunken, mouth tight, lips diminished.
‘Or is he . . . a ghost?’
Enya laughed again and threw her head back.
‘For the love of God! What, like at Halloween with a sheet over his head? Actually, that’s a good point,’ she snapped her fingers, ‘I should maybe lift it up and have a look, it might not be Jonathan at all! It might be Auntie Hilda, Nana Collins, or old Arthur next door!’ She tutted and shivered at the thought.
‘Well, I don’t know! You say youseehim, and so I wondered if you meant see him in a literal sense, or is it that you feel his presence, like a comforting force?’ Angela wafted her hand above her head.
