Page 82 of The Art of Loving You

‘No. No he isn’t but … fuck you, Libby. Fuck you for thinking you’re the only person going through something. Fuck you for using grief as a get-out-of-jail-free card every time you’re a cow. Jack would be ashamed.’

‘I know and I’m—’

‘Fuck you,’ she said quietly as she walked away.

The first thing I did when I woke on Saturday was to text Alice again.I’m sorry.

Again, she didn’t reply. I called for the umpteenth time but she didn’t pick up.

I needed to see her in person. I wasn’t sure if she was working so I drove to her house but her car wasn’t outside. I’d come back later, in the meantime I wasn’t far from the care home.

Sid was in front of his mirror, running a comb through his hair.

‘Even lifting me comb to me head hurts. Bloody bowling, I’ve rediscovered muscles I’d thought were lost. Is everything all right? I’ve a cab coming at ten-thirty,’ his reflection told me. ‘A few of us are heading out for brunch.’

‘Brunch?’

‘It ain’t a prison here, duck.’

‘I know. I just had you down more as a full English man.’ I settled myself onto the edge of his bed.

‘Yeah well, Ethel lost at bridge for the third time running and she’s paying. I was worried she’d think it was a date when I heard her ask Helen, the care assistant, something about a padded bra, so I’m taking Bert. Safety in numbers. We’ll probably go to The Happy Bean. At least you can get a decent sausage there. I can’t be doing with them places that serve smashed avocado on a roof tile. What’s so fancy about mashing up a bit of fruit with a fork and not even serving it on a proper plate? Is Alice working today, Libby?’

At the mention of my sister I dropped my head into my hands.

‘Uh oh. I know that look. What’s happened?’

‘Nothing.’ My voice was muffled, the word a lie.

‘Elizabeth,’ Sid said sternly but not unkindly. He peeled my fingers away from my face. I couldn’t look him in the eye. He thought the world of us, of Jack. I was ashamed to repeat my terrible accusations and yet if I didn’t Alice might tell him later.

‘I accused Alice and Jack of having an affair.’ I stared miserably at my shoes which were caked in mud from my gardening endeavours. ‘I asked Alice if Jack was the father of her baby.’

‘Jack loved the bones of you.’ Sid didn’t show the disappointment he must have felt. ‘He’d never have been unfaithful, particularly not with your sister.’

‘I know,’ I said quietly.

‘Well then why?’ The mattress sank a little as he sat beside me.

‘Remember I told you about Owen, my first boyfriend?’

‘I do.’

‘I caught him with Alice a while ago, they were holding hands. She said there was nothing going on but …’

‘You put two and two together and made a baby?’

I nodded. ‘And when she explained … it was all innocent anyway but I demanded to know who the father was if it wasn’t Owen but she wouldn’t give me a name. I can’t understand why she won’t tell me … and yesterday I found her crying and talking to a photo of Jack telling him she didn’t want to lie to me or to break me and … I …’ I couldn’t say it again.

‘Put two and two together and made a catastrophe?’

‘Pretty much. I can’t believe I said it. I can’t believe it even crossed my mind.’

‘So why did you?’ Sid never told me when he thought I was wrong, instead he gently guided me towards finding the answers on my own; he would have made a wonderful father.

‘I think … I think that losing Jack in such a violent, unexpected way has shaken my faith in … in everything. I’ve thrown myself into the renovations and … and it helps while I’m busy. When I’m doing something it feels like I’ve turned a corner but when I’m not I’ve got this constant edgy feeling. It’s like I can’t trust the world any more. Nothing feels safe.’ I could hear the quiver in my voice and Sid must have heard it too because he took my hand, his thin fingers encircling mine, and waited until I could carry on.

‘At home, with Liam in the garden and Noah in the house, I feel safe. Protected. We’re in our own little bubble almost but when I’m somewhere else, like shopping, I look at people differently, thinking you could have a knife. A gun. You just don’t know who to trust.’

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