There were tears in your eyes. ‘I didn’t know.’
‘I didn’t want you to know,’ I said. ‘But perhaps you can see that when I looked at our home, after what I grew up with, it was a really nice place that was clean, with home-cooked food. And love.’
You reached out for one of my hands. ‘I’m so sorry, Mum. But I’m glad you’ve told me.’ There was compassion in your eyes. ‘It explains so much.’
‘In what way?’ I frowned.
‘Why you used to defend Dad – and why you worried about how he’d cope without you. At the time, Ollie and I used to feel like you were always putting him first.’
‘I didn’t mean it to seem like that,’ I said hastily. ‘I’m so sorry.’
You frowned. ‘It must have been like watching history repeat itself.’
‘It was and it wasn’t,’ I said quietly.
‘You still worry about Dad, don’t you?’ you said.
‘In a sense.’ I pulled myself together. ‘But these days, less so. I’ve realised I can’t do anything to stop him drinking.’
‘You can’t. It’s up to him.’ Your eyes were suddenly troubled as you picked up your wine glass and put it down again. Then you abruptly changed the subject. ‘Have you decided what you’re going to do with the house?’
‘I was thinking of selling it or renting it out.’
‘The housing market is terrible, Mum. One of the guys who volunteers at the shelter has been trying to sell his place for months.’ You paused. ‘Why don’t you move back there? Even if you do it up and sell it once the market picks up?’
I stared at you, flummoxed. ‘Would you and Ollie want to come back there? I know it wasn’t a happy home, Lex.’
You shrugged. ‘It was OK when we were little.’
‘You mean the years you were too young to remember?’ I teased you, pausing as plates of food were placed in front of us. ‘What about as you got older?’
You shrugged. ‘It was shit sometimes. You know what Dad was like. But we survived.’ You sipped your wine – slowly, I noted. ‘Maybe it would be a good thing to go back there – laying ghosts and all that.’
I was astonished. ‘I didn’t think you’d want to go anywhere near the place.’
‘It’s just a house, Mum. It’s Dad I have a problem with. If he’s gone, so has the problem.’ Shrugging, you took another forkful of food. ‘What’s the matter with that? You look really surprised.’
‘I am surprised.’ Were we really on such different pages? ‘Maybe I’ll think about it.’
‘Why don’t you talk to Ollie?’ you suggested. ‘I bet he says exactly the same.’
You were right. It was Ollie’s view, too, that without Ryan there, it could actually be quite a nice house. After giving notice on the rented house I’d moved the three of us into all those years ago, I had the strangest feeling as I started to pack.
It had been our home, the walls of which, for a while, had kept us safe. And when I thought about leaving it to move back to the house that Ryan and I used to share, I was unsure if it was the right decision or not.
There was only one way I could do this. Before moving back, I set about erasing every trace of Ryan, stripping wallpaper and decorating, room by room, giving it a facelift, determined to create the family home I’d always dreamed it would be.
Meanwhile, time was speeding up, you and Ollie moving on with your lives, home a transient place where you spent little time. Were about to spend less time, as Ollie was offered a job in Canada, a prospect that thrilled me. It also bothered me, for all the wrong and selfish reasons.
‘It’s only for a year, Mum. I will be back. I promise you.’
‘But what if you meet a girl?’ I said. ‘I mean, of course I want you to meet a really lovely girl. But what if she’s Canadian and you don’t come back?’
Ollie hugged me. ‘I will come back. I promise.’
Then shortly after, you were offered a job in the HQ of an animal charity. ‘It’s good money, Mum. I’ll be at the sharp end. In time, I’ll get to have a say in how the money’s spent.’
‘But it’s the other end of the country,’ I said in dismay.
