Chapter 61 Kier

61

Kier

Devon, July 2018

I wake to a light rapping on the door.

Reaching for my phone, I glance down at the screen. It says 8.53 a.m.

The next knock comes in unison with a voice.

‘Kier?'

Penn.

‘One sec.' I haul myself out of bed, pull a hoodie over my T-shirt. I glance in the mirror. I look awful. Dry, sallow skin. Shadows beneath my eyes.

When I open the door, Penn smiles. ‘Did I get you up?'

‘Yeah. Bit of a late one.'

He nods, smile fading slightly as he looks me up and down, as if he's really taking me in for the first time. ‘You missed the meal last night, Mila's family.'

I curse. ‘Shit, I forgot. Should have put a reminder on my phone.'

‘It's fine,' he says, but his voice is tight, and I can tell from the flinty look in his eyes that it isn't. ‘Mila's brother didn't show anyway. Think everyone will be fed up to the back teeth with family get-togethers by the time all this is over.' His laugh is strained, and as I look at him, I can see for the first time that the stress of the wedding is not just mentally having an effect, but physically too. Fatigue, settled into his face, lines etched deeper around his eyes.

Penn makes no move to come in, so I step outside. It's bright, the sun barely touched by fine wisps of cloud.

A wave of dizziness overwhelms me, an insistent rolling sensation. As I ride it out, it's hard to even focus on his face.

‘But still, you probably wanted someone from—' I say finally.

‘ My side of the family there?' Penn cuts across me, shaking his head. ‘Ever since all the wedding stuff started, I never knew there was so much bloody significance between her side and mine. I've spent the whole time feeling wholly inadequate on that front, so don't worry about one night.' An attempt at a joke, but I can tell he's having to force it.

‘But last night, it went okay?'

‘Yeah.' He shoves his hands in his pockets, watching Woody roll on the grass in front of the van, legs in the air. ‘And what about you? Everything alright?'

‘So-so, but I think that's expected after a breakup.' I look out at the water. In the shallows a family are teaching a child to skim stones, but his attempts aren't even reaching the water.

‘Yeah, probably is.' Penn kicks at a piece of dirt with his trainer. ‘Sorry I haven't been in touch. I saw your messages, but it's been crazy, we've only just locked down the budget with the caterer, and I thought you could do with time to process everything.'

His words sound contrite, but I notice that he can't quite meet my gaze. An echo of the awkwardness I felt at their wedding venue. It's as if a fault line has opened between us, a gap I'm struggling to breach.

‘It's been fine.'

‘Sure? '

I nod, about to reassure him, but I can't. I'm not sure if it's utter exhaustion, or fear still lingering from last night, but as I look at him, something else comes out: ‘Actually,' I gabble, ‘it's been a bit weird since Zeph's left. I'm probably just being paranoid, but it feels like someone's watching me. I—'

I don't get to finish my sentence.

There's a loud shout from behind us, and Penn abruptly turns. He takes a few steps forwards, before coming back, gesturing to the beach. ‘Group of kids jumping off the jetty.'

For a moment I'm not sure if he didn't hear what I said, until his eyes come back to find mine.

There's something odd in them – anger and something else too.

Guilt.

It's not that he didn't hear me, I think, panic rising in my chest, he's choosing not to hear me.

The wedding, and now my feelings – are too much for him. He can't cope.

We talk for a few more minutes, making arrangements to meet tomorrow, but the rest of the conversation feels odd, off-kilter.

Watching him walk away, I wait for him to turn, to wave, but he doesn't.

I swallow down a lump in my throat as the realisation hits me: I've never been in such close proximity to Penn and simultaneously felt so alone.

Back inside the van, I check my phone. Elin still hasn't replied to my message. I debate sending another one, wondering if it will seem weird.

But as I watch Penn through the window, receding to a speck in the distance, I realise that here, at least, she's all I have at the moment. The only sounding board.

I message her again.

This time, Elin replies almost instantly .

No problem. Could do this evening, after I finish work? Say 8pm, by the beach cafe?

Tapping out a reply, I already feel a little less alone. Just reaching out to someone, connecting, makes the prospect of the next few days more bearable.