Page 109 of The Spark

‘I never stopped loving her, either,’ I say, realising the raw, unprocessed truth of it only in this moment.

As the door closes, Lara appears in the hallway. ‘Hey. Come through.’

I step back in time a decade, to the last time I was here. The living room is just as cosy as I remember. It has been decorated for Christmas, draped in greenery and baubles and rivers of sparkling lights. The tree is a six-foot feast of colour. Corinne’s Christmases were always the best.

But year-round too, this room was a treasure trove of fresh flowers and blankets and pairs of slippers and bowls filled with boiled sweets and thick piles of newspapers and shiny magazines, and today is no different. There is a radio playing, tuned to a succession of jangling Christmas songs.

Lara makes tea and we move to the sofa. The room is stuffy, like they’ve had the heating cranked up to max for days on end, but Lara still pulls a blanket over her lap. She is make-up free and looks drained, as though someone’s syringed the energy right out of her.

I still haven’t got to the bottom of exactly what’s wrong with Corinne. I should have asked at the door. I’m sure she would have told me. But her lunch plans threw me – I’d been expecting her to be here.

‘I thought... I wanted to have a chat with your mum,’ I say.

Lara tuts fondly, like her mum and Felix are for ever cavorting around Norwich enjoying long lunches. ‘I know. Sorry about that. But Felix suggested taking her out, and I think it was a good idea, actually. So you and I can talk.’

‘Okay.’ I try a smile, though I feel unsettled in a way I can’t quite put my finger on.

‘Recognise these?’ Lara says, passing me a tea.

It breaks the tension perfectly. I laugh. The slogan mugs from our first night at uni, the ones we drank Jamie’s mum’s champagne from. A little faded, but still as ridiculous as they were back then. ‘I can’t believe you kept them all this time.’

‘Are you kidding? These are seriously precious mementoes.’

‘Lar.’ Her name rushes from my mouth before I’m fully ready. ‘Be straight with me. What’s wrong with Corinne?’

She meets my eye. ‘I’ll tell you in a minute. First... how’s it going with Ash?’

‘No – never mind Ash. Tell me now.’

‘No, Neve. This is important.’

‘My relationship woes are not more important than your mum being ill. Tell me.’

‘I will. But first... please just humour me.’

I shake my head, slightly bemused. ‘Okay, but... there’s not a lot to tell. Ash and I still haven’t spoken.’ I fill her in on my counsellor, and the slowly growing list of the ways in which Ash and Jamie do differ, and the many nights I’ve lain in bed wondering if it’s possible that my theory has been built on false assumptions. That all these incredible coincidences could really be just that. Coincidence.

And yet, somehow, my mind always ends up tugging me back to Jamie. He is still moored to my heart. I can’t bring myself to fully dismiss the idea that he might have come home, that perhaps we have been given a chance to revive the love story we never got to finish.

‘Okay,’ Lara says, when I’m done. She sets down her tea, folds her hands in her lap. ‘Neve, I have to tell you something.’

I can hear from her voice it’s the kind of something that might make a person want to run into traffic.

‘It kills me to have to say this to you, especially after... the baby, and everything you went through with that. And... all the stuff that happened when Jamie died.’

In my mind, a jolt of renewed grief. Or maybe it’s fear.

‘It’s about Jamie.’

Even after so much time, hearing someone else say his name still makes my heart lurch.

She shudders out a breath. ‘God, this is so hard.’

‘Lara...’ I begin, but then something about her expression stops me.

‘Neve, I haven’t ever told you this because I know that what happened pretty much ruined your life. And I didn’t want to add to your pain. Please know that I only withheld it because I didn’t want to hurt you any more than I already had.’

‘You’re scaring me now.’

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