Page 79 of It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas
‘I never answered her question, Tom. And the weekend she was meant to come to Cardiff was the weekend the accident happened. I’ve never forgiven myself.’
I’d never said those words out loud before. I could feel my composure faltering so I stood up abruptly before I cracked, the chair scraping loudly against the mosaic floor of dormant coins.
‘I’m just going to nip to the loo. I won’t be a sec.’
‘Wait, are you okay?’ Tom’s eyes were locked on to mine.
I nodded once, my mouth fixed in a straight, hard line. ‘I will be.’
I asked a waitress to direct me to the toilet, which was nothing more than a broom cupboard-sized cubicle next to the bar.
I gripped the tiny sink and inspected my face in the mirror as I tried to regulate my breathing.
I looked at myself in the eye. I’d unintentionally told Tom about the worst thing I’d ever done. What was I thinking? Mum, Dad and Josh had spent those early days and weeks trying to reassure me that my decision to cancel her visit wasn’t something I should tear myself apart over. But I could always sense the permanent question mark that seemed to hang like an imminent snowstorm above every conversation we ever had as a family from that era onwards:What if Livvie had been where she was meant to be that day?
But my own internal question was much louder and harsher:What if I had been a better sister? A betterperson?And now Tom knew who I really was underneath all the dry wit and self-deprecation and urge to help everyone all the time.
I took a few deep breaths before re-emerging, just as another platter of dishes arrived. There was barely any space left on the table now, nor in my churning stomach.
Tom waited until the waitress had departed before speaking. ‘Hey, how are you doing?’
‘Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just that you’re the first person I’ve spoken to about what I did.’
‘You didn’t “do” anything, Mal.’
I shook my head. ‘But that’s exactly it, isn’t it? I could – and should – have done so much more! I could’ve actually stood up to Elle when she guilt-tripped me into cancelling Livvie’s visit. I could’ve got back to her instead of trying to bury my guilt – who knows what might have happened if I had? I can’t believe I left her hanging and never replied to that final email. Well, not when she was alive, anyway.’
Wow, I was really going to tell him this as well – as if my previous confession hadn’t been shameful enough.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, that first Christmas after she’d gone, I finally did reply. And I’ve been emailing her every day since.’
Tom placed one hand on mine and cradled his own forehead with his other. His eyes were glistening with… something, or maybe it was just the reflection of the seventy-nine million fairy lights in the subterranean restaurant.
‘Fuck, Mally.’
I dropped my eyes back to the table.
‘Yeah, what a loser, eh? Trying to make up for letting her down’ – I swallowed the vibrating lump in my throat away – ‘by sending a load of pointless emails into the digital ether. They’ve shut down her account now, anyway. I got an automated bounce-back at the start of the month. It’s probably for the best.’
‘Pointless? What are you talking about? This is, like, the saddest, sweetest, fucking loveliest thing I think I’ve ever heard. Jesus, you must’ve loved her so much. You must miss her so much. I’m so sorry this happened to you. To your family. It breaks my heart to think you’ve been living your life thinking that you played any role at all in what happened to your sister.’
I kept swallowing but my throat was burning with emotion. For twenty years I’d truly believed that I’d been sending those emails to Livvie from the coldest pit of guilt and despair. Never once had I even considered that they came from a place of warmth and love. Or that those two seemingly opposing places overlapped in any way. I’d always seen the emails as – shit – almostshameful, somehow. But maybe they weren’t? Maybe they were… okay? Special, even? Both of Tom’s hands were now on mine. I looked up from the cooling food slowly, cheeks wet with tears that I’d not even noticed falling.
‘Thank you.’ I spoke quietly. And right then was when I felt a shift between us. I had countless conflicting feelings rushing around inside me, and I could detect that Tom’s own emotions were whizzing about as well. What he was feeling I had no idea. But I knew what my own feelings were as if they were shouting their names to me:
Pain. Loss. Fury. Safety. Hope.
Love.
I felt ripped open, yet fiercely alive.
Tom cleared his throat as we waited for our puddings after the final savoury plates had been cleared. I could sense he was scrabbling about for a less heartrending topic of conversation. ‘So, er, has enough alcohol been consumed to share your Spaghetti Tree story yet?’
‘Urgh, just about.’ I took another large gulp of my festive cocktail before continuing. ‘Buckle up. I guess I would’ve been fifteen and Elle would’ve just turned sixteen, as she’d gotten herself a Saturday job at Kookaï on the high street.’
‘Kookaï? Very trendy.’
