Page 81 of Love in Tune

Honey and Hal sat in silence for a few seconds after she stopped reading. The unopened letter burned in her hand. Part of her ached to know what lay inside, and another part of her wanted to run a thousand miles. This was not her business, and Hal was not her boyfriend. Was he still Imogen’s boyfriend, officially? It was another question that she didn’t have an answer for, and now was definitely not the right time to ask it.

‘Fucking Damien.’

Hal spoke at last, and the despair in his voice made Honey’s heart ache for him.

‘He sounds nice,’ Honey ventured, wondering how such a plain adjective could be applied to any relative of Hal’s. It certainly wasn’t a word that ever came to mind about the man himself.

Hal laughed harshly.

‘What the fuck am I supposed to do with her letter?’

Honey knew exactly what Hal meant. They were in the most awkward of positions. Half an hour back they were having sex, and now she needed to read him a letter from his ex-girlfriend. Was it a love letter? A Dear John letter, maybe?

Either way, it was going to be the most personal of letters, and she was the last person on earth who should read it to him. But then she was also the only person on earth who could, so they found themselves on uncharted territory.

‘I’ll read it to you.’ The words left Honey’s mouth before she’d had time to consider the implications. Purposely so, because if she let herself think about it, she wouldn’t have the courage to read it.

‘No fucking way,’ Hal said. ‘No fucking way.’

‘Who else is going to read it to you?’

‘No one. No one is going to read it, because I am not remotely fucking interested in anything she has to say.’

The fact that the letter had raised such anger in him told Honey otherwise. He was interested alright, and so was she, in a peverse, nigglingly self-destructive kind of way. She was emotionally invested, and she found that she needed to know how invested Imogen was too.

‘Hal, let me do this. It might be important. It must be, for your brother to go to the trouble of sending it.’

‘He’s doing it to get Imogen off his back. He said so himself. Nothing more, nothing less.’

‘Please, Hal. Let’s just get it over with, okay?’

He sighed heavily, and Honey accepted his lack of complaint as agreement. Reluctant and begrudging, but agreement nonetheless.

The small white envelope looked innocent enough, yet Honey still opened it as if it might contain a nail bomb. One that was definitely going to cause damage to the two people closest to the impact.

The paper crinkled in her fingers as she opened it out. More swooping cerise writing, pretty and feminine, probably a reflection of the woman who had written it. All of a sudden, she regretted pushing him to let her read it. Once inside her head, these words would stay with her forever.

‘You really don’t have to do this,’ he said, practically a whisper.

‘I know that,’ Honey said. ‘It’s okay. Just give me a moment.’

She sucked in a deep breath. She would do this.

she read, trying to keep her voice level and free of emotion, because these were not her emotions to feel.

Honey paused for a second, already hating the familiar tone. She wasn’t his cleaner; she wasn’t even sure if she was his friend. Was ‘neighbour with benefits’ an actual term?

Honey paused, winded by the details, the intimacy, and Hal dropped his head in his hands, hiding his expression from her.

Honey put her hand over her mouth as she read the last words, almost as if she wished she could push them all back in again and not even tell him that he’d received any mail that morning.

‘“Despite everything”,’ Hal muttered darkly, repeating Imogen’s sign-off. ‘She meansI still love you despite the fact that you can’t see anymore. She always fucking blamed me, right from the moment I opened my eyes in the hospital.’

Honey was well and truly out of her depth. She couldn’t offer any real advice because she’d never even met the woman, but from the letter Imogen sounded like a petulant teenager who’d cobbled together a desperate plan to hold on to the fantasy lifestyle she’d mapped out for herself on Hal’s coattails.

‘Tea?’ she said inadequately, reaching for his cup.

Hal shook his head and huffed. ‘I need a proper drink.’

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