Page 74 of The Art of Loving You

We stood in an uncomfortable triangle.

‘You’ve got this, Libs,’ Jack’s voice whispered, his breath against my cheek. With one last lingering look at the top, which hung looser on Liam’s boyish frame than it had on Jack’s, I wrenched my eyes back to Noah’s face and forced a smile.

‘Shall we spend the morning working out what materials we need? And then check out the garden? Liam, outside is where you’ll be most use. There’s a lot of prep to be done. Sid drew some plans yesterday: I’ll show you. There’s a shed Sid says is full of tools but I can imagine they’re rusty.’

The next few hours were spent jotting down everything we needed to make a start. The list was long. Already I was worried about the budget. That wasn’t the only thing troubling me. Noah and Liam were so distant.

‘That’s pretty much everything,’ Noah said when we were back in the kitchen.

I dropped the pad and pen onto the windowsill and linked my arms together, stretching out my tense shoulders.

‘That’s been productive,’ I said. ‘Noah has some great ideas, doesn’t he, Liam?’

‘Suppose.’ Liam was picking at his thumbnail.

‘And, Liam, you’ll be such a great help. Won’t he, Noah?’ I raised my eyebrows at Noah.

‘Um, Yes. Think you’ll enjoy it, Liam?’

Again, that shrug.

I was despairing. I knew it was early days but I’d pictured us as the Three Musketeers. In this together. They had barely spoken.

Liam’s stomach rumbled. I checked my watch.

‘How about I make us some lunch and you two can talk about football or something?’

‘Don’t like sport,’ Liam said.

‘What about gaming?’

‘I’m not into consoles,’ said Noah.

‘Right.’ It was such a strain. ‘What do you fancy to eat? I’ve some sausages? Bacon? Eggs?’

‘All of the above?’ Noah smiled.

‘In one sandwich,’ added Liam. ‘With ketchup and—’

‘Mayo?’ Noah held up his hand and Liam high-fived it. ‘Why don’t you let us boys rustle up lunch?’

Before I could answer, Liam was already retrieving the frying pan from the cupboard, Noah lifting eggs from the fridge. Finally they had bonded and all it had taken was a shared appreciation for fried food. I was infinitely happier as I turned away. ‘I’ll be back soon.’

‘Libby?’ Liam called me as I was leaving the room. ‘Do you mind if I change the radio station?’

‘You said in the car you didn’t mind Nineties music?’ I raised my eyebrows.

‘It’s a bit shit.’

In the snug I picked up the picture of Jack and traced his smile with a light fingertip.

‘You’d have loved this,’ I whispered. Laughter floated from the kitchen. It was the first time the house had resembled anything like a home. The Beatles began to play ‘In My Life’, Liam must have retuned the radio, and I sat down heavily on the sofa, the photo frame cold in my hand. Socks leaped onto my lap and butted his head against my arm until I began to stroke him soothingly, rhythmically, until the song had finished. I wiped my damp cheeks with my sleeve and made my way back into the kitchen. The radio was now playing rap. I glanced at it, questioning what I’d just heard.

In my life.

Our song.

I love you more.

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