Page 72 of The Art of Loving You

Since I lost Jack I’d been living mainly on M&S ready meals or the kindness of Mum and Alice. It might be nice to cook from scratch again. Fresh basil leaves shredded onto spaghetti. Now I was focusing on the future, I could start looking after myself properly.

‘You want things that are easily maintained. The lavender under the windows has probably gone all leggy. Cut it right back and see how it fares. Norma used to make little bags out of it and put in our drawers. Here’ – Sid pointed – ‘was a pond. Norma always wanted one but I’d covered it when the herons kept snatching the fish, bloody things. I’d put netting over the surface too but that didn’t stop them. You could uncover it?’

‘But Socks might take a swipe at the fish. Besides, what if he fell in?’ I loved that cat with all my heart; the thought of anything happening to him was unbearable.

‘Cats ain’t daft. They ain’t keen on water so he’ll stay away.’

‘What else did Norma like?’ I wanted to remain true to her vision.

For the rest of the afternoon Sid taught me about plants, the things that would grow in the soil, the things that would perish.

I was buoyant when I left, feeling that the past couple of days I’d taken my first teetering steps into the future, not away from Jack – working on the house and the garden would keep him close. I couldn’t wait to get started, couldn’t wait to ask Liam to help. I didn’t know where he lived so on a whim I drove around the town,slowing down each time I passed a group of teenagers congregating outside a shop or kicking a ball around a car park until at last I saw a cluster of kids I knew had been at the funeral.

I wound down my window. ‘Is Liam around?’

‘What’s it to you?’ one of them said.

‘Are you Mrs Jack?’ another asked.

The words hit me in the heart. ‘I am.’Still. Always. ‘Do you know where Liam is?’

‘Is he in trouble?’

‘No, just the opposite. I have good news for him.’

I was given his address, a part of town where I’d never ventured before.

I heard the shouting before I’d knocked on the front door. Loud angry voices.

It was a woman who yanked open the door. The smell of deep-fried food came at me. She eyed me confrontationally, smoke spiralling from a cigarette in her hand. She was older than she looked under the bleached blonde hair and thick layer of make-up. ‘Yeah?’ As she spoke the stench of stale alcohol wafted from her breath. It wasn’t that I thought Liam had a happy home life, but seeing her, the state of the flat beyond, made me want to whisk him away from all of this.

‘Are you Liam’s mum?’

‘Are you from the college? He said he didn’t have no lectures—’

‘I’m not from the college.’

‘Copper? What’s the little bastard done now?’ She scowled. ‘Oi, Liam!’ she hollered.

When he appeared and saw me, the colour drained from his face.

‘He hasn’t done anything wrong,’ I said quickly, picking up on his fear. ‘In fact, I want to offer him a job.’

‘A job? This lazy thieving toerag can’t …’ She rearranged her features. ‘How much you paying? He’s loving his course and if you expect him to drop out—’

‘I don’t. This would be part-time and I’m sure Liam and I can come to some arrangement. That’s if you’re interested?’ I smiled at him. ‘Helping me with the house and the garden.’

‘Umm. Whatever.’ He shrugged. ‘Yeah.’

‘Do you have lectures tomorrow?’

‘No.’

‘Great. We’ll sort the details out then? I can pick you up at nine?’

There was a crash from inside the flat. Liam’s mum stalked away.

He stared at his shoes. ‘Yeah, great. Thanks, Libby. For a minute I thought you’d come to tell Mum I’d nicked your stuff.’

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