Page 20 of From Now On

‘Can’t you stay?’ Duke can’t bear to lose anyone else.

‘I’m afraid not, we have jobs to do.’ She glances at Charlie.

‘But Charlie’s not going back to London.’ Duke notices the look that passes between Charlie and Sasha and he feels those jumping beans in his tummy again. It must mean something bad or they would just say it out loud.

‘Are you, Charlie?’ Duke asks in a smaller voice.

Before Charlie can answer his phone begins to ring. He answers it as he stands,strides out into the hallway, pulling the door to behind him but they can still hear his voice.

‘You’ve found… Oh God… they’re gone. They’re really, actually, gone.’

They hear him begin to cry.

Chapter Eight

Charlie

Charlie sinks on the bottom stair, feels Sasha’s hand on his shoulder. He still clasps his mobile in his hand although the call has ended.

‘Charlie?’ It’s an effort to raise his head, his mind weighted with the terrible news he has been given. The terrible news he must now share. Pippa stands in front of him, one hand holding Duke’s, the other Nina’s.

‘That was the… They’ve found…’ It feels as though someone is jumping up and down on his chest, his lungs grappling for air. ‘They’ve found Hal and Fingers.’

‘Are they…’ Nina pleads with her eyes for a different answer to the questions she can’t bring herself to ask.

Charlie nods.

‘But Charlie—’ Sasha crouches, taking both of his hands in hers ‘—you know they are all…’ she lowers her voice ‘… dead. There’s no hope. The conditions… the weather… the tides. You know that, right?’

And Charlie does know but knowing the facts hadn’t stopped him wishing for a different outcome and he knows from the hope that has diminished from the eyes of his siblings that they too felt the same.

How do you accept death without a body?

Grieve?

Move on?

But he must. Mum and Bo aren’t coming back.

What is he going to do?

Charlie’s stiff and uncomfortable from sleeping on the sofa bed. Sasha had slept peacefully beside him, and Charlie had envied her for the ability to switch off, wherever she was. He envies her because she can walk out of this house without any guilt or regret. He envies her because she can live her London life or transfer to New York. She has choices. A future. Right now, Charlie doesn’t feel he has either.

They skipped breakfast and have eaten lunch and now Charlie sits in the kitchen with Sasha, his hands nursing a cold mug of instant coffee that would taste infinitely more palatable with a slug of whisky but alcohol isn’t the answer, although he doesn’t know what is.

Duke is playing on his phone, the game making pop-pop-pop noises that jab at his headache. The household is missing two vital members but it still feels too crowded. There’s no space Charlie can escape to; Duke has his old room. He can’t bring himself to claim Mum and Bo’s room but if he were to stay here full-time…

What is he going to do?

Pippa and Nina are doing one of Pippa’s grandma’s jigsaws. He doubts in normal circumstances it would be their first choice of fun but it’s a good distraction. He doesn’t know what he’d have done without Pippa these past few days.They’ve fallen back into their friendship, their early friendship anyway, without the tragedy that came later which she had tried to support him through. Now, it’s a different situation, a different tragedy, but she is still here.

Charlie needs to apologise to her, for everything he once did, everything he was, but now is not the right time. He thinks that soon he will have other people to say sorry to. Other apologies to make. He rises to his feet, the desire to run away from his siblings driving him to the door.

‘Let’s go for a walk,’ he tells Sasha. ‘We need to talk,’ he adds before anyone else can ask to come with them.

But Billie has heard her favourite word and is spinning joyful circles, so Charlie quickly clips her lead onto her collar and they slip out of the back door.

They walk mindlessly. Charlie unaware where his grief-heavy legs are subconsciously leading him, even when they are trudging up the incline. It isn’t until they reached the top of Briar’s Hill he realizes where they are. It was here his parents would bring him for a picnic when he was small, him balanced on his dad’s shoulders when he’d grown tired, Mum carrying a wicker basket crammed with egg sandwiches and fruitcake. He had felt he could stretch his pudgy arms up and touch the clouds with his fingertips. It was here he’d hung out with Pippa after school – they’d tried their first cigarette, their first swig of vodka – in the days before he’d shut her out, shut out the world.

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