Page 25 of Forgive Me Not
‘Wasn’t it difficult sharing personal stuff with a bunch of strangers in rehab?’
Emma found it hard to explain that no, her varied new friends all shared the same hopeless feelings.
And she had questioned him; discovered that he’d dated a couple of women.
‘Neither relationship was serious, though,’ he’d said. ‘Not like…’
He didn’t finish that sentence.
There hadn’t been deep conversations with hugs, tears and jokes. But it was a start. Today she hoped to take their discussions further, as she could be asked to leave at any minute.
With Andrea, on the other hand, she realised it served no purpose to push deeper. Since that short chat about travel, her older sister had kept her distance. Emma didn’t like to ask why she and her boyfriend, Dean, had split. Slowly she was realising that her old behaviours meant she’d relinquished any rights to intimacy.
Andrea came into the dining area holding a mug of tea. ‘Bligh had to stay late last night to finish the repairs you started on the goats’ shelter in case we got a storm or heavy rain overnight – you might have heard him. Although the forecasters got it wrong again. So I insisted he comes in a little later today. He asked if you could give him a hand with the jam-making.’ She yawned. ‘Mum can sit in the shop with me. Polly’s coming over. She’s baked Mum’s favourite brownies.’
Emma nodded, forced a bright smile and headed upstairs as she heard her mum get out of bed. Eventually they both came down, Gail washed and dressed. She sat in the kitchen whilst Emma made blueberry pancakes. After eating, Emma took her outside to leave her with her sister. When she returned, Bligh was there wiping dirt off the fruit.
‘Do you want a coffee?’ she asked.
‘Not at the moment.’
Emma watched him remove the soil and get rid of the green leaves with a knife by making a cone-shaped cut in the top. He’d always been practical, even as a child, identifying star constellations and tying complicated knots.
She opened the cupboard under the sink and glanced at a half-full sherry bottle. Bligh shot her an intense stare.
‘I’m looking for a new washing-up sponge.’
‘Andrea’s had to start hiding the sherry from Gail in case she thinks it’s squash and drinks a load.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Does she need to hide it from you as well?’
Emma blushed. She’d seen the bottle yesterday, and all night the bad voice on her shoulder, from the old days, had reminded her about it, trying to tempt her to take a mouthful.
‘It might be an idea.’
‘You said you were over all that.’
‘And I am – by keeping myself safe.’ She closed the cupboard door and picked up a packet of sugar. She studied the label. ‘It’s already got pectin mixed in?’
‘Time-wise we cut corners where we can.’ Bligh rolled a few lemons over to her. ‘Start squeezing the juice out. It’s time to get the preserving pan on.’
She did as instructed, and then weighed out the sugar. Before long, the sweet mixture was bubbling. Emma took the clean jars and lids out of the dishwasher. Bligh had always enjoyed the domestic side of life when he was little. Emma would often find him cooking or folding washing with his mum when she called to play. When his parents split, he took over his mother’s chores – his new word for the jobs he used to revel in.
‘Thanks, Bligh,’ she said, blurting it out as he removed scum from the top of the boiling liquid. ‘Thanks for standing by Andrea. It’s clear you’ve been her rock. I’m so grateful.’
‘I would say my pleasure, but it’s been hard – seeing her change.’
‘I… I hadn’t realised she’d missed out on so much.’
‘She was in bits after your mum’s appendix operation that worsened the Alzheimer’s. Neither of them really recovered from that.’ He skimmed off some more scum.
Emma tried to fight the cloying guilt by keeping busy. Carefully she tested the set of a spoonful of jam on a cold saucer, removed from the freezer. She gave the thumbs-up and Bligh started to ladle the mix into jars. Whilst roughing it on the street, she’d only ever thought of Andrea as having it easy. No one could be suffering as much as Emma was. Her sister had the farm, Mum, a life amongst the locals. But now she saw that meant Andrea had no time left for herself. Their situations couldn’t have been more different, as Emma had spent the last couple of years focusing solely on her own problems. Yet like so many extremes, this meant there was common ground between them. Those feelings of isolation, and that no one truly understood their predicament.
Without thinking, she stuck her finger in the leftover jam mixture, with the intention of having a lick. She needed a sugar boost. Chocolate bars and sweets had helped with the initial cravings, and now the habit was proving hard to give up.
‘Ow!’ She jerked back and banged into the table. The jar nearest the edge toppled onto the floor and smashed.
Broken glass and red liquid splatted across the tiles. Hurriedly Bligh and Emma bent down to pick up the pieces of glass. A large dollop of scalding jam found its way into Bligh’s palm, and Emma suffered a small cut.
Shaking his burnt hand, Bligh sighed as they stood up. ‘Wait there. I’ll get you a plaster.’
