Page 78 of I Would Die for You

“She… she was someone I once knew,” I say, bitterly disappointed that I have passed on my chance to be honest. But it seems I’m no more ready to tell the truth now than I’ve ever been.

39

LONDON, 1986

Nicole almost expected the streets of London to be lined with grief-stricken mourners as her mother’s hearse carries her to her final resting place in Highgate Cemetery, all beside themselves with the devastating loss of a much-loved woman at such a young age. But it seems that while Nicole’s life has seemingly come to a standstill, the rest of the population is carrying on with gut-wrenching abandonment. Deliveries are being made to shops, children are being collected from school gates, friends are dining alfresco, taking advantage of the unseasonal warmth of the autumn day. How is the world still turning, when hers has stopped?

She takes hold of Cassie’s hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze, in an effort to emulate their mother’s natural ability to throw a metaphorical security blanket around them whenever they were in need. But Cassie snatches her hand away, her rigid jaw set in deep insurmountable despair.

Since the horrific incident with Michael, Cassie has withdrawninto herself, gone to a place even Nicole can’t reach. Every time she’s tried to talk to her, in an attempt to coax her out of the darkness, Cassie has seemed like an empty vessel, devoid of empathy or feeling, apart from the odd occasion when Nicole has seen a flash of something else cross her features. Was it anger? Hatred?

Whenever their dad has shared his concerns, Nicole has brushed them away and told him it was all part of the grieving process. Because if she told him the real reasonwhyCassie has distanced herself from real life, he would hunt Michael down and kill him. And that would be too kind, because there are better ways of making those that hurt us pay.

The cortege comes to a stop under the canopy of the crematorium and as the somber congregation look on, Nicole feels her dad’s hand on the small of her back, a silent offering of strength as she gets out of the car.

“Your mum’s right here with you,” he says, sucking in a breath, as if it will last him all the way through the service.

It was meant to placate her—to calm the grief that has become her new normal. But the thought of her mother not being able to reach out to tell Nicole she’s there makes it all the more painful.

She watches the wreath-laden coffin being gently lifted out of the hearse, waiting for the whisper of something against her cheek, the tingle of a hand holding hers—anythingthat tells Nicole that her mother is here. It’s all she needs, to know that she can do this, but tears fill her eyes when nothing comes.

People grimace at her with pained expressions that are supposed to epitomize their sympathy, yet all they actually convey is pity. Pity that she lost her mother so young, pity for all the things she’s going to miss out on, pity for the lessons she’ll never be taught. Do they think she doesn’t know all of that?

Among the mournful faces is her ex, Aaron, who Nicole only notices because his expression is one of resentment rather than compassion. She’d specifically told him, when he turned up at the house the night before last, that she didn’t want to see him again—like she’dtold him a hundred times before; for him not to listen is frustrating enough, but to defy her wishes on today of all days is beyond the pale.

A flush of anger infiltrates her veins, which only intensifies when she hears the first strains of “In My Life.” She’d known it was coming, thought she’d prepared herself for it, but hearing Paul McCartney’s music instead of her own reaches deep into her soul, squeezing the life out of her organs. It should have beenhersong that played to her mother on her last journey;hersong that said everything that needed to be said. But Ben had destroyed her sacred words, taking them without respect or care, shattering any semblance of their meaning by using them for his own gain.

The sob, when it comes, is loud and ugly, taking her by surprise with both its ferocity and her inability to control it. But once it’s out, it’s as if the bitter intruder who has been festering inside her, feeding off her blood and draining her of energy, has been released.

The strength that Nicole had inexplicably managed to find lasts her through much of the service, only faltering when her father delivers his eulogy. He speaks not only of his daughters and the special bond they shared with their mother, but of his and Gigi’s time before they came along. Nicole had selfishly convinced herself that she bore the brunt of the pain of losing the best friend she’ll ever have, but the realization that her parents shared a life before her makes her father’s grief even more insurmountable.

“How are you holding up?” Nicole asks Cassie later, as she sidles up to her at the wake, back at the house.

Cassie’s mouth tightens into a thin line. “Like you care,” she says acerbically.

“I’m trying to,” snaps Nicole impatiently. “But you’re making it really difficult. We’re in this together—I’ve got your back and you should have mine.”

Cassie snorts derisorily.

“I’m on your side,” says Nicole. “But you need to let me in.”

“If you were on my side, you wouldn’t have done what you’ve done,” says Cassie cryptically, before turning her back and purposefully walking across the living room to talk to a second cousin she can’t stand.

Nicole shakes her head as she picks up a platter of tuna and cucumber sandwiches and offers them to those nearest to her. Amid the forced small talk and an overwhelming desire to tell everyone to leave, Nicole senses a sudden, palpable change in atmosphere, as heads turn toward the door and ribs get nudged with pointy elbows. If Nicole didn’t know better, she’d imagine that her mother’s nemesis has just turned up. But Gigi didn’t have enemies—of that she’s certain—so she, too, turns, with all the confidence of someone who has no fight to pick, except she couldn’t possibly have foreseen this opponent. Her mouth drops open, her blood running cold with anger and panic.

“What the…?” She can barely speak.

“I’m sorry, I had no idea it was today,” says Ben, looking mortified as he stands in the living room doorway like a spare part.

“Get out of here,” hisses Nicole under her breath, painfully aware that a starstruck audience is looking on in bewilderment and awe.

“I shouldn’t have come,” he says, looking like a reprimanded schoolboy. “But you wouldn’t take my calls…”

“How dare you?” demands Nicole, choking back tears. “You have no right to be here.”

Ben looks around aimlessly, as if hoping he’ll be teleported out of the painfully awkward situation he’s found himself in.

“You!” roars John, coming in to see what all the commotion is about.

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