Page 44 of From Now On

‘All you can do is try your best, lad.’

Charlie had never been as good as Bo, but he remembers how he had held the wood in one hand, knife in the other, persevering until he had something resembling a fish. Then he had taken a small piece of wood and fashioned another.

‘Big fish, little fish!’ Nina had clapped her small hands in delight and had insisted on carrying them everywhere with her. He wonders where they are now. Even if Nina still had them, she probably wouldn’t remember the meaning behind them. His little sis.

His little fish.

He wonders where Bo’s tools are now. He scans the shelves. There are three large, plastic boxes, labelled with names: Charlie, Nina, Duke.

He lifts his down, carries it back into the house.

In the kitchen, he removes the lid. Takes out the contents one by one. They are out of order. Muddled.

Photos of him as a baby, Mum gazing at him tenderly as he slept in her arms. A tiny box containing a tooth and a lock of hair. A postcard from Frankfurt; he had sent that after he became a literary agent during his first ever visit to a book fair.

Even after he left she had never stopped collecting things.

Then clippings fromThe Booksellerannouncing deals he has made throughout his career.

She was proud of him.

The realization is bittersweet.

Too late.

The regret Charlie feels is unquantifiable.

He rifles through the rest of the things.

Pictures he had drawn: stick people holding hands, in front of a boxy house. A brilliant yellow sun shining in a light blue sky. School reports; ‘English – A – Charlie shows a natural talent for writing.’ Something unidentifiable fashioned out of clay with googly eyes.

A letter in a childish uneven scrawl.

Dear Mummy,

I am very sorry I broke your favourite vase and then blamed it on the wind. Cross my heart promise I won’t lie to you again.Followed by a sad face.

But then, underneath a reply from his mum,

Accidents happen. It’s what you do afterwards that counts. Thank you for making a cross-my-heart promise you won’t lie again. I know they are your best promises and you will keep them. Love you lots Charlie and nothing you do will ever change that.

Charlie can barely see the smiley face inside of a heart she had drawn at the bottom of the page through his tears.

He crosses his arms on the table and buries his face into them, shoulders heaving.

She had loved him, had taken pride in his achievements, always, and it had been his guilt, his shame, that had made him blame her, so he didn’t blame himself. She had sent him to a therapist, not to ‘fix him’ but to try and help him.

How had he got it all so wrong?

He cries for her, for seeing things clearly when it’s too late.

His eyes are sore, throat raw, by the time he composes himself. Packing everything back into the box except the letter.

Accidents happen. It’s what you do afterwards that counts.

Mum and Bo aren’t here anymore and Charlie had run away. Left the house. Left his siblings. He had promised his mum New Year’s Eve he would look after them.

Thank you for making a cross–my–heart promise you won’t lie again. I know they are your best promises and you will keep them.

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