Chapter Sixty-Five

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

Present Day

I turn my pillow over, enjoying the momentary coolness beneath my cheek, but the rest of me is still sticky and hot, even though the French doors to my bedroom are wide open. There doesn’t even seem to be a breeze blowing in from the river.

I tap my fitness tracker to check the time and discover it’s the wrong side of two. I puff out a breath and roll onto my back. It’s no good. I’ve been tossing and turning for hours, dozing occasionally, but now I’m wide awake. And I’m thirsty.

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, shove them into a pair of flip-flops, then grab my robe from the back of the bedroom door. I don’t bother turning on any lights. The night is clear and the moon is almost full. I cross the hallway into the main living space, pull a glass from one of the kitchen cupboards and fill it with water.

Sipping as I go, I wander over to the windows and stare out across the river. My gaze sweeps upwards. Wow. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen stars like this. I can hardly count them. It’s breathtaking. I get close to the glass, trying to look upwards to see if I can find Sirius, but the roof is in the way.

However, since it’s the middle of the night and I have nothing else to do, I decide to go up there to get a better view. The balcony door is unlocked, so I step outside, then climb the nearby stairs to the roof, keeping a firm grip on the railing as my eyes accustom themselves to the darkness.

When I reach the top step, I let out a scream. Someone is sitting on one of the chairs near the table. Although it was only a tiny screech, the sound seems to echo across the water. ‘Sorry …’ I whisper to Gil. ‘You scared me.’

‘No … I should have said something when I saw you coming up the stairs, but I didn’t want to make you jump and cause you to trip.’

‘Well, one head injury in a year is unfortunate. Two would be careless,’ I quip, and then, because I’m feeling as if I’ve intruded on him, I add, ‘I don’t want to disturb you, so I’ll just—’

‘No. It’s okay. Stay if you want to.’

My hand is on the railing, my foot hovering above the first step. ‘If you’re sure?’

‘I’m sure.’

I’m secretly relieved I don’t have to go back downstairs to my sweltering bedroom. Up here, it seems a couple of degrees cooler and I can even detect the faintest movement of air. I sit down in the other chair. ‘Couldn’t sleep either?’

Gil sighs. ‘Nope.’

‘It’s a beautiful night.’ I pull my robe across my knees, aware that the silky material keeps sliding off them and exposing more leg than I mean to. Gil is staring resolutely ahead, but I still feel a little awkward.

I spot something in the water, a lump with something long and straight pointing upwards from it. It looks like a boat, but I can’t be sure. ‘What’s that out there in the river?’

‘That’s the Anchor Stone. You can only see the pole sticking out the top when the tide’s at its highest, but when it’s almost out, like now, you can see the rock beneath it.’

I squint into the darkness. Now I know what I’m looking for, I realize I’ve noticed it before. ‘Do people actually anchor their boats there?’

‘Maybe once upon a time, given its name, but I’ve never seen it.’

The water breaks softly around it, the white frills of the waves barely visible in the gloom. ‘That’s a nice idea, isn’t it, to have somewhere that’s safe and steady in the middle of all that change – tides and currents and stuff?’

‘It is …’

I’ve run out of inane things to say, so we sit there in silence, our heads tipped back, staring at the sky. Now and then Gil points out a shooting star, or the slow steady track of a satellite. I name a few constellations, and then so does he, but we can’t find any of them in the blanket of blinking stars, and then we spend ten minutes trying to work out where Orion is buried and if it can even be seen at this time of year.

After a while, I realize the subject that’s keeping me up will also interest Gil. ‘Just as I was getting ready for bed, I got a text from Simon.’

‘Oh?’

‘He doesn’t think he’s going to come down for a visit this weekend, after all.’ I try to keep the disappointment out of my voice, but I don’t quite succeed. Simon visited the first two weekends I was here, but this is now the second time he’s cancelled. ‘Some big project they’ve got on at work. He says he is putting out fires on an hourly basis and he probably needs to go into the office on Saturday morning. It’s a long drive to come just for a few hours, possibly stay overnight and then have to go straight back again.’

‘That’s a shame,’ Gil says.

‘He says he might come next weekend.’ I pause for a moment, then add, ‘I hope he’ll be okay on his own. He must be getting lonely.’

Gil tips his head slightly and studies me. ‘How are you able to worry about everyone else when you’re going through what’s probably the most difficult time of your life?’

I feel something akin to a flash of lightning sear through me. He’s asked me something very similar to that before. When we were in the water. When we almost drowned.

Only he didn’t. Did he?

Then why does it feel so real, as solid as any other memory I have in my head? Sometimes, I really do wonder if I got a glimpse at another version of my life.

‘I don’t know,’ I reply softly. ‘It’s just how I am.’

Gil doesn’t push me further. If he did, I’d probably push back, banish this subject just because I’m so used to being stubborn with him, but the fact he leaves the silence untroubled means I don’t shoo the topic away as I normally would. It’s an interesting question. Why do I do that?

After a few minutes, I say, ‘Maybe it’s to do with my brother. Maybe I’m always trying to make up for the child that’s missing, ensuring I’m doubly good so I’m not letting them down.’

‘It’s tough enough being an only child without all of that.’

‘I remember now … You’re an only child, too.’

‘Yes.’

I nod, recalling another night, a shouted conversation in a hallway, back in a time when I didn’t hate Gil. Back in a time when I liked him more than I’ve ever wanted to admit since. I don’t know how to react to that admission, so I just gloss right over it in true Erin style and keep talking. ‘The weird thing is I never felt as if I was an only child, because if that’s the case, you should get all the attention, right?’

‘You never really talk much about your family. Well, about Alex. But I’ve seen how … single-minded your mum is.’

I huff out a laugh. ‘That’s one way of putting it.’

He looks at me as if he’s trying to work out a puzzle. ‘Alex got all the attention, didn’t he, even though he wasn’t there?’

‘Yes.’ His words bring a lump to my throat and I swallow it down. ‘The spectre of Alex was everywhere when I was growing up. My mum kept the box room decorated as a nursery, something that caused a lot of conflict between her and my dad. And there were photos of him everywhere.’ I wince at the memory of a line of large pictures of my brother on the mantelpiece in the living room, along with one tiny one of me. ‘My mum insisted we make a big fuss of his birthday every year – a cake with candles and everything – but when I turned eight, I didn’t even get a party because Mum was doing a charity run that weekend and she had too much on her plate. I spent my birthday in a freezing park in the rain, cheering Mum on.’

I didn’t think anyone ever noticed how I would feel about being the one left behind after my brother’s death. It wasn’t my feelings that were important, were they? But it shocks me that Gil, of all people, is the first one to make all the pieces fit. Maybe that’s why I keep talking, spilling out secrets I’ve never told anyone.

‘It got worse once my parents’ marriage fell apart about five years after he died. My mum was really depressed for a while. Another gaping hole in her life. I think she set the charity up to fill it, and I don’t know what she would have done if she hadn’t, so I can’t be mad at her for that. It gave her something to get out of bed for in the morning. It gave her a purpose.’

‘Erin …’ I can hear the censure in his tone, and I know he’s thinking that there should have been something, somebody, else to give her that sense of hope and purpose.

I shake my head. ‘I couldn’t stop her, even if I’d known how to express that feeling when I was a child, because even then I knew how selfish it would be. She was helping other parents. Other babies .’

Gil’s expression tells me he doesn’t agree with me. ‘Maybe there could have been a better balance. Have you ever talked to your mum about this?’

I laugh at the absurdity of the idea. ‘I couldn’t.’

‘Why?’

‘The thing that fuels her is that she feels she let Alex down. How could I add to that? How could I tell her she’s an even worse mother than she thought she was? Besides … It’s changing now. I think my accident really shook her up.’

‘I’m glad things are changing.’

‘Me too.’

We fall silent again, but this time we don’t stare at the stars. I have the feeling that neither of us is ready to go back to bed so I root around for something else to talk about. I land on what I presume is a fairly safe subject. ‘How did you and Simon become such good friends? I know you met at school, but I’m not sure I’ve ever heard the full story. If I did, I’ve forgotten it. I forget a lot of things these days.’

‘My mum was from around here and when I was twelve, she decided to move back to this area. I was enrolled in the local high school in Dartmouth. But you know what it’s like … I joined part way through Year 8. Everybody else already had their friendship groups and I wasn’t from around here. I got bullied.’

‘Really?’ I wouldn’t imagine Gil to be someone who got bullied. He seems so sure of himself, so together.

‘And then Simon broke his arm playing rugby and our form tutor assigned me to help him at lunchtimes, carrying his tray and things like that. The bullying stopped after that.’

‘Because you carried his tray? I know Simon likes to be made a fuss of, but even so …’

I hear the smile in his voice as he continues. ‘Yeah. But he was popular. You know Simon … cheeky, good with the banter. Everybody liked him. After that, if anyone tried to pick on me, he called them out. And even when his arm healed, we kept hanging out together, bonding over things like cars and motorbikes and sports, the way teenage boys do. He’s always had my back. I appreciated it because it was a tough time. My dad had just died. From a stroke – his second one. My mum was devastated and she just kind of checked out.’

‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that about your dad.’

He stares into the darkness, at the shadowy hills on the other side of the river. ‘It’s okay.’ He smiles and then sighs. ‘My mum loved Simon. Sometimes I think she wished he’d been her son instead of me.’

I don’t know if it’s true, but I can’t leave that comment hanging in the silence. ‘I’m sure that’s not the case.’

‘Simon reminded her of my dad, I think. He was one of those people who charmed everybody he met. I’m not like that. I’m probably more like her if anything, but I don’t know if she ever saw that.’

I feel sorry that he’s lost the opportunity to connect with her. At least Mum and I have a chance for a different future. ‘Why do we always feel we need to be something other than what we are?’

He turns to look at me and his eyes lock on mine. ‘You don’t need to be anything other than what you are, E.’

E …

That must be something he got from Simon, because Simon always used to call me that when we were first going out. I realize that this one little letter of the alphabet might signify a seismic shift in my relationship with Gil. Against all odds, I think we are becoming friends.

I get up and walk to the railing, place my hands on the cold bars and stare out across the water. After a few moments, Gil comes to join me. My voice drops to a whisper. ‘Since the accident, I’ve been … struggling. You say I don’t need to be anything other than who I am, but what if I don’t even know who that is?’

I turn and look for his reaction. His gaze is steady, but he just waits for me to say more.

‘I feel as if there are two Erins, the person I used to be before the accident: competent, confident, had all her shit together, and who I am now: haphazard, insecure, shit all over the place …’ I stop to chuckle softly, even though it’s not particularly funny.

Gil is still looking at me with that intensity that is pure him, but it’s not scathing as it used to be. ‘I don’t see much difference. I just think the real you is poking through the veneer.’

‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ I say quietly and then I look away because the backs of my eyes are stinging.

We stand in silence for a minute and then Gil says, ‘You’re worried Simon won’t love this new Erin the way he loved the old one?’

My head whips round. ‘Y-yes!’ But then I shut my mouth firmly. I don’t want to be disloyal.

‘I know Simon just about as well as anybody on this planet,’ Gil says. ‘Anything you say won’t put a wedge in my friendship with him, so if you need to get something off your chest, say it.’

‘I don’t know …’

‘It won’t leave this rooftop. I promise.’

Maybe it’s being here in the dark. It makes the conversation feel slightly anonymous. Maybe that’s why I open my mouth again instead of hurrying back down the stairs to lie in my stifling bedroom, all my secrets left intact. ‘I’m worried it’s not just work keeping him away. What if he’s drifting away from me?’

Gil turns fully to face me, resting his right hip against the railing. ‘What makes you think that?’

‘When I first got here, he called every night, but then it became every other night. Now, sometimes he just sends a message. And he’s just said he’s not coming to visit. And it’s not the first time he’s cancelled.’ I look down at the concrete floor. ‘There’s a name for it, you know … when someone has to care for someone who’s very ill or is facing a long recovery like I am. It’s called compassion fatigue. And I know I’ve been a lot to handle. I know that maybe it’s too much to ask, especially as I’m not even the woman he proposed to any more.’

Gil steps towards me and his hands come to rest on my shoulders, warm, comforting. And there’s also a tingle of something else … For me, at least. A tingle of something that definitely shouldn’t be there.

It’s just that stupid dream, I tell myself. Pay no attention to your poor scrambled brain. I’m superimposing dream Gil on real Gil. I have to separate the two. But it’s hard when he’s determined to act more like the fantasy than the reality I thought I knew.

‘Erin …’

I lift my head and look at him. Time seems to slow, suspend … I feel a familiar prickle of electricity in the air around us. Gil swallows.

Stop it. Stop feeling like this. Stop thinking like this. It’s Simon you want to hold you and tell you that you’re okay. Not this man.

I’m about to take a step backwards when Gil’s hands drop away from my arms and he moves first. ‘It’s late …’

I nod and swallow. Oh, God. He sensed it too … He could tell that I was having weird mixed-up feelings for him. How absolutely mortifying. I look down at my feet. ‘Yes. I’d better go.’

I hurry down the stairs, only realizing when I get to the bottom that I’ve left my glass of water up there. I’ll have to get myself another.

I do it as fast as I can before Gil follows me down from the roof, and then scurry away to the safety of my bedroom, where I bake and sweat for the rest of the night with not much more success of sleep.