Page 55 of A Kiss under the Stars
‘Wow.’ I shake my head in disbelief. ‘And have you managedto stay sober this time?’
He smiles. ‘One year, one month and five days...since I had my last drink.’
‘And what about Benjy and Grace?’ I ask, thinking of theclothes I found on the bedroom floor at Sycamore House. Grace must have leftthem by mistake.
‘They’ve both been sober now for about six months. Benjy’sback in work, so they’ve even managed to find somewhere to live. It’s just atiny bedsit but it’s a palace to them.’ He smiles fondly. ‘Grace has aninterview for a check-out job next week. They’re really turning their livesaround.’
‘Wow.’ I breathe in and let it go slowly. ‘Well done for that,Dylan. For helping them get their lives back on track, and for getting soberyourself.’
He gives me a small smile. ‘Without your help this time aswell.’
I nod. ‘Without my help. Look, will you sit down, please?And stop hovering in the doorway? I’m not going to bite.’ I slide along thebench to make room.
‘You sure? We do have a history of that,’ he smiles, comingto sit beside me.
‘Of me biting you? I don’t think so!’
‘No, but you did whack me a few times for not letting you onthe swing in the garden.’
‘Did I? I don’t remember that.’
‘Ha! Selective memory.’
I nudge him sharply. ‘Selective memory can be a real allywhen you’re feeling like you’ve fallen into a dark pit and you can’t scrambleout of it,’ I tell him with feeling.
‘Touché,’ he murmurs. ‘But if it’s any comfort, I knowexactly what you mean. I’ve missed my kid sister so much, you know?’
‘Missed you, too.’ My smile is still a little grudging.‘Now, can we please hug because this is getting ridiculous.’
I cry a little bit as we hug for the longest time, althoughby the time we draw apart and laugh at ourselves, I’m fairly sure I’ve blinkedenough that the tears don’t show...
*****
‘Why did you come to the hide?’ I ask Dylan as we drive toSycamore House in his car.
He shrugs. ‘I first of all went to the house but you weren’tthere. So... it seemed the natural place to go and get myhead together.’
I nod. ‘I’ve found that, too. Since I’ve been back here.’
‘I guess it’s the memories of going there with Dad. Thingsalways seemed better when we were there.’
‘I know. I... oh, Dylan, I really wish Dadhad got the treatment he needed. But Mum could never persuade him to get help.’
‘And she tried so hard.’
We’re silent for a while. Then I say, ‘Some...letters came for you, Dylan. To Sycamore House.’
He swings round with a frown. ‘Letters?’
‘Yes. They started arriving on the tenth anniversary of Mumleaving us.’
His face is a picture of disbelief and astonishment.
‘Dylan, watch the road,’ I murmur, catching the steeringwheel. ‘I shouldn’t have told you while you’re driving.’
He doesn’t say a word until after he’s signalled, pulledinto a lay-by and switched off the engine. Then he turns his whole body to faceme.
‘Letters fromMum?’ He’s gone as white as a sheet.
