She turned to him, her eyes swollen and red. ‘Thank you,’ she managed.
He came, sat on the edge of the mattress. Let his hand hover over her back before he pulled it away, clearly deciding against it.
She shuffled to sitting and took the tea which was far too milky, but welcome all the same. ‘Sorry,’ she said.
‘What for?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Losing it, I suppose?’
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘You’re entitled to lose it. I’d be more worried if youweren’tlosing it!’
‘Seriously?’ it was the first time she’d come close to smiling since… well, for a long time anyway.
He coughed out a short laugh. ‘Well, no. But I’d wonder whether you were kind of losing it inside, or something,’ he said. ‘I mean, I’m losing it and I wasn’t even married to the guy.’
‘You are?’
He shrugged. ‘Pretty much,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘I mean, it sucks doesn’t it, what happened. And he’s my best mate.Wasmy best mate. I’m just glad I popped by. I wanted to check, you know. And you shouldn’t be alone. Not now.’
The simple correction of tense almost set her off again.
‘And I promised him I’d look out for you,’ he said, roughly wiping a hand across his eyes.
‘What?’
‘Yeah, sorry. I don’t think I was meant to tell you. But Tom made me promise. Last month – God, it’sinsaneto think he was here last month – he said I’d better keep an eye on you or I’d be subject to some serious haunting.’
She snorted then, out of the blue. ‘That isveryTom,’ she said.
‘Yup.’
They were both silent.
‘You don’t have to, you know,’ she said. ‘Look after me, I mean. I’m OK. I’ll be OK.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘But…’
‘But you promised.’
He nodded. ‘And I guess… it would be nice to speak to someone sometimes who gets it. Who Tom was and why he was… you know.’
‘Maybe. I’m just so sick of talking though, Will. Because it doesn’t do anything, does it? He’s gone. And no amount of talking is going to change that.’ She turned her face into her pillow and shifted so that her back was to him.
Moments later he stood and left the room quietly, pulling the door into place with a small click.
28
THE SIXTH SUMMER – 2016
She watched, drying her hands at the small bathroom sink, as the tiny plastic window flooded with moisture, sending a stream of pink across the paper inside. Holding her breath, she watched the line form – the first one strong and definite, the second only a possibility, a ghost, merging from white to a splash of pink; then as soon as she thought she’d seen it, it seemed to disappear, and once the two minutes were up, she was left – as she always seemed to be – with a negative test.
Was she even ovulating? Strange, when she’d paid no attention to her period, her cycle before, it had seemed to be a reliable, predictable thing. But now she was starting to question whether everything was working and – if it was – whether it was working well; it seemed her body was refusing to play ball.
‘Come back to bed!’ Tom groaned from the other side of the wall.
‘Just a minute!’ she said, trying to keep her tone upbeat as she slipped the test into the bin and covered it with loo roll, somehow ashamed of having him know about her body’s failure. She opened the door and stiffly climbed beneath the covers, feeling his relaxed warmth against her pale skin.
He kissed the back of her neck. ‘I love it when you’re all cold,’ he said, wrapping his legs around her.