Page 88 of The Art of Loving You

‘Can we talk later? It’s not a great time for me. I’ve got things to do.’

‘What are thesethings?’ she asked.

Waiting for Jack.

Seeing Jack.

Talking to Jack.

‘I just …’ I swallowed down my hysteria. Jack would come back when she left, hehadto. ‘What did you want?’

She answered me with silence. A prickly, deliberate silence and then I remembered the last time I saw her, those shameful things I had said.

‘Look. I know Jack isn’t the baby’s father.’ My eyes flitted around the room, scared he might be listening, angry, disappointed. ‘And I’m sorry I suggested he might be but—’

‘There isn’t a but,’ Alice said. ‘You … you accused me, me and Jack. I would never have done that to you,never. Jack was devoted to you.’

Her pain cut me deep. With one last glance around the room I forced myself to focus on Alice. My eyes met hers, saw the unutterable anguish in them and I was drenched in spoonfuls of shame.

‘I know. God, I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know why I said that, it just sprang out of my mouth. Alice I know accusing you was unforgivable but … not having him here … Sometimes I feel I’m holding it together and other times it feels like I’m going mad with grief. He was … irreplaceable.’

‘I know that.’ Her expression had softened but she didn’t make a move to hug me. The distance between us was immense. ‘But he’s left a huge gap in my life too. He was like a big brother to me. Of course I never looked at him like—’

‘I know. I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I said it.’

‘But you must have thought it to have said it, Libby.’

‘I just … I know you loved him too.’

‘I did. Completely and it … it fucking hurts that you could take my love and twist it into something ugly.’

‘Alice.’ We faced each other, a wall of suffering between us. I had to find the right words to knock it down. ‘I was wrong.’ It was the simple truth.

She dropped her shoulder, calming down. ‘That day, when I came to tell you I was pregnant, I wasn’t afraid to say it in front of him. I knew he’d support me. I miss him, Libby.’ A solitary tear trickled down her cheek. ‘And sometimes I feel I’ve no right to feel so sad because your grief eclipses everyone’s. And that’s how it should be, of course, but me and Mum … we’re hurting too, not just for Jack but for you. You’re so up and down we’re constantly treading on eggshells around you. One minute you’re happy and full of the plans for the house, the future. The next minute you’re down again, crying, talking to Jack. We’re not judging you but we’re not sure how to reach you, Libs. Tell me what to do.’ She looked at me beseechingly.

The older kids are being mean at school, Libby. What should I do?

I can’t learn my times tables no matter how hard I try. What should I do?

I fancy Sean Richards but he fancies Jenny East. What should I do?

I didn’t have all of the answers any more. I wasn’t sure I had them then but as a child Alice had had utmost faith that I could do anything. Now she saw me as vulnerable, fallible. Helpless and hopeless. All of the things I didn’t want to be.

I could feel myself sagging but I held myself upright, a marionette suspended from strings. I would not fall. I would not fall in front of my younger sister.

‘I want you to be happy, Libby,’ she said.

I wanted that too and if she left and Jack came back, I just might be.

‘I know and I’m sorry and I’m glad we talked and I appreciate you coming, I do, but right now, I want to be alone.’

A look of resignation crossed her face as she nodded.

I stood on the front step and watched her leave before closing the door and rushing back into the snug, convinced Jack would be there.

He wasn’t.

In the time Alice had been with me the smell of Jack’s aftershave had gone. The lingering sense of his presence, gone.

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