Page 45 of The Shape of Your Heart
‘She was the same with the wedding,’ I say quietly, remembering.
* * *
After Sasha goes, I find my jacket and pull on my trainers before driving to one of the beaches that Liam and I loved. It’s an hour away, along narrow country roads through a landscape where the first signs of autumn are showing in the turning of the leaves, the newly ploughed stubble fields, before I take the flint track that leads down to the car park.
Getting out, I breathe in the salty freshness, remembering the first time Liam and I came here. It was a cold winter day, the light giving the beach a magical quality so that the water sparkled, the sand seeming almost to glow. It’s a memory we later immortalised in a part of our garden, in a piece of driftwood bleached almost white surrounded by stones and shells from the beach. The air was crisp that day, stinging our cheeks, and as we walked, we collected a whole range of sea treasures, revelling in having the whole place to ourselves.
Today the water is green, swirling with an energy that feels amplified by the breeze. But as I stand here, it isn’t the same any more. Gazing out to sea, I realise why it can never be the same. The magic Liam and I found was only partly about this place. It was more about what existed between the two of us.
* * *
On Sunday evening, when Rita comes over, she arrives carrying wine and takeaway pizzas.
‘I’m famished,’ she says. ‘The hospital canteen had virtually nothing in it.’
‘Are they OK?’ I’m referring to our parents.
‘Mum’s up to her ears in wool.’ Rita pauses for a moment. ‘And Dad…’ Her eyes fill with tears.
Going over, I hug her. ‘He’s going to be OK,’ I say gently.
‘I know.’ She wipes her eyes. ‘It just got me thinking aboutwhat if he wasn’t?I can’t imagine him not being around.’ Her voice wobbles.
‘Hey, you don’t have to.’ I pass her a box of tissues. ‘I know – it’s been really scary, for all of us. But he’s on the up.’
‘Sorry.’ She blows her nose. ‘I suppose it’s not a great time right now.’
Alarm bells start ringing. Not Rita too? ‘Your student?’
She nods. ‘Can we open the wine? I could murder a glass.’
Over pizza and wine, she tells me what’s happened. ‘We’d just spent a Saturday night together. He got up quite early, which was unusual. I asked him where he was going. He told me he had a date. I was shocked – wouldn’t anyone have been?’
‘Absolutely,’ I say strongly. ‘Shocking of him.’
‘You haven’t heard the best of it.’ Rita pours another glass of wine. ‘He laughed. He said our relationship was just sex and that I was too old for him. Of course, we could still shag, as long as I understood he was seeing this other girl.’
‘Fucking bastard,’ I say furiously. ‘I hope you told him where to go.’
‘I told him no way. Then I asked him to leave.’ She hesitates. ‘The thing is, I know this girl he’s seeing. She’s beautiful and smart – and young…’ Her voice wavers.
‘Oh, Rita.’ I say. ‘You’re beautiful and smart. And…’ Pausing, I frown. ‘Ages ago, you said it was just sex between you.’
‘I know I did.’ Rita’s cheeks redden. ‘But it was more, Cal. I didn’t want to, but I fell in love with him.’
‘Oh…’ My heart twists in anguish for my sister. ‘Oh, that’s so sad.’ A thought comes to me. ‘You’re not going to… just shag him, as he put it?’ When she doesn’t speak, I stare at her. ‘You are?’
‘I did,’ she says miserably. ‘Just the once. Please tell me how ridiculous I am.’
‘You’re not ridiculous,’ I say softly. ‘You’re wonderful and lovely, and you deserve someone who can see that. Anyone else just isn’t worthy of you.’ I pause. ‘The Ancient Greeks must have had something to say about such things.’
A smile flickers briefly on her lips.
Throw moderation to the winds, and the greatest pleasures bring the greatest pains.
That’s Democritus. I think we’ve both seen how that works.’
‘It’s so true, isn’t it?’ I’m silent for a moment. ‘How loving uninhibitedly can cause so much pain?’
