As I see his arms splay my stomach drops so fast I can’t breathe. ‘You’re asking for a …?’ My throat’s so dry my voice gives out long before I get to croak the word hug.
‘It’s a very long time since anyone offered me one.’ His head is tilted. ‘If you don’t mind it’s really warm inside my jacket … you could get out of the wind for a moment … just as a friend …’
I swallow, close my eyes, and dive. Lock my arms around his torso, grasp a handful of jumper, drag the scent of cashmere and denim shirt and man deep into my lungs. Bury my head in the hollow underneath his collarbone, listen to the slow primeval clunk of his heart as it bangs against his ribcage. I’ve waited so long to get here, it won’t ever happen again, so I’m loath to let go. Not unless I really have to. Like when the tide comes in and washes over my boots. Or maybe when the water comes up to my waist. Once I’m submerged all the way to my shoulders. Then I might.
He’s resting his chin on my head, ‘Actually, I haven’t minded everyone crashing in … sometimes it does you good to be shaken up.’ There’s a grate as he clears his throat and swallows. ‘So how about these regrets of yours?’
That’s such an unexpected question, I have to open my eyes so I can think better. High above the line of Bill’s collar I catch a glimpse of a slender crescent of moon as the clouds part. I’m careful not to let my fingers relax any. That one afternoon by the fire at the chalet got me from there to here. The next few minutes will have to last me the rest of my life. As for being sorry about things that are over, my pile is too high to even begin.
‘I wish I’d dyed my hair blonde more often.’
‘How often did you?’
‘Never.’
‘Go on …’
‘That I’d got to a higher level on Tetris before my Gameboy died … that I hadn’t killed so many tamagotchis … I should definitely have looked after my sea monkeys better …’
‘Those are millennial. Anything more recent?’
We’re moving onto very shaky ground here. ‘I probably sound like Willow, but regrets are negative, dwelling on them can only be destructive. You need to leave them in the past, because that’s where they belong.’ I’m pretty much paraphrasing a year’s worth of trauma recovery sessions in three sentences here. ‘Grasp your life in your hands and head for the future with your head held high. That could work for you too.’ I’m watching, hearing the frill of the tide. With each rush the foam is washing closer towards us.
‘Now and again it’s interesting to look back, compare notes, that’s all.’ He’s musing, chin still resting on my skull. At a guess with his eyes open. ‘So far Gemma and I have only dealt with finances. We haven’t faced the toughest part yet.’
Then it strikes me. I don’t want to interfere, it’s his life, it’s their broken relationship. But he will regret it if he doesn’t do this. ‘However hard it is, you mustn’t give up on Abby.’ I squeeze his back. ‘She will still need to see you. You have to find a way.’
His sigh hits my hair. ‘I know, thanks for reminding me. I’ll try.’ His fingers are tucking in my scarf. ‘You have to find your way forward too … how hard is that going to be?’
I’ve held it in for so long, if I’m pulling it out now it’s only to show him why it’s impossible. ‘Well, with my accident, the driver of the car didn’t make it. So before I move on I’ve got to get past a dead person who wouldn’t have lost their life if it wasn’t for me.’ All I can say is, I’m so pleased it’s dark and my head is buried inside Bill’s coat.
‘Ivy-leaf, I’m so sorry.’ His fingers are gentle, catching in the strands of my hair as he brushes them out of the wind. ‘Can you bear to tell me how it happened?’
‘It’s a long story …’
He’s prompting. ‘So where does it begin?’
‘After George left …’
‘So you were on your own …’
‘That’s right, but going out with really random people trying to claw back the years I’d wasted on George. It was all a bit desperate and crazy.’ I’m shuddering to think how bad it was. ‘I’d met up with someone for a second date at a party in Brighton. Michael. He had a name, and a mum and dad, and two brothers and a whole life ahead of him.’
‘How did it happen?’
‘Well he – Michael – actually I think mostly his friends called him Mike – that’s how little we knew each other, we hadn’t even got onto calling each other by our proper names. So Michael – or Mike – offered to drive me back through the lanes to London after the party, and that’s where we were when he went off the road.’ How did one second of misjudgement turn out to be so shocking and awful? ‘One minute he was there next to me, laughing, the next we were sliding off the road, the car was rolling, we hit a tree and his life was over.’
‘They can happen so easily on country lanes, you hit a patch of mud and lose control. But how is that your fault?’
‘If it hadn’t been for me he wouldn’t have even been there.’
His voice is slow. ‘Ok-a-a-a-y …’
‘But worst of all I didn’t realise until afterwards he’d been drinking, probably because I’d been drinking so much myself. I could have stopped him. I should have stopped him. But I didn’t. All I keep thinking is, if only we’d never set off he’d still be here.’
‘Oh Ivy, it was an accident, that’s something that happens by chance that shouldn’t have, that’s why they’re called that. You can’t take responsibility for something that really wasn’t your fault.’
‘His neck snapped with the impact. He was just quietly sitting there next to me, he didn’t even cut himself like I did. But he was gone. How unfair is that? That’s why it doesn’t feel right for me to get on and enjoy my life.’ I let out a breath. ‘I was so strong to start with, I went back to where the accident happened, but when the anniversary came around, however much I tried to, I couldn’t make myself go back. I hate myself even more for that because it feels so wrong and cowardly.’
