Her face darkens – just like it did the last time. ‘Ah Jaysus, do we have to talk about her? I’ll talk about anything else, but not her.’
‘There’s something you should know about Emily.’ I’m talking about my mum as if she’s a stranger. ‘She didn’t just move on and have a baby.’
Mary frowns.
‘Their split left her heartbroken. She got drunk and made some poor decisions,’ I tell Mary. ‘The news of Will’s death left her reeling. She was so grief-ridden and racked with guilt, she was suicidal herself. But when she found out she was pregnant, it gave her a reason to live. That baby was her only reason to live. For years.’
‘How do you know all this?’ asks Mary.
‘BecauseI’mthat baby.’
Mary’s body stiffens. ‘What?’
‘Emily is my mum.’
A bright spark of anger flashes in her eyes. ‘She sent you here? Why?’
‘She didn’t know about me coming here. I kept it a secret. She never spoke about Will. She wouldn’t even admit to knowing him. It was her way of coping with the grief. I had to find out about him for myself. That’s why I offered to help with the archive. She didn’t know what I was doing.’
I tell Mary all about Mum – how she blamed herself for Will’s death, how she punished herself for years: no relationships, no friends, no art – her entire life revolving around me.
‘For those brief few minutes when I thought Will had otosclerosis, I knew it would change everything for Mum if she found out,’ I say. ‘Then you corrected me, but I couldn’t shake the thought. So, I told Mum that Will had otosclerosis. I lied.’
Mary exhales sharply.
‘And you know what?’ I continue. ‘It worked. She started living again – she let herself be happy – but only because she believed it wasn’t her fault.’
Mary’s expression remains stony.
‘And now,’ I say, ‘with the publication of this book, she’ll find out Will didn’t have otosclerosis. I’ll have to tell her the one thing that gave her a lifeline was a lie. She’ll go back to blaming herself.’
Mary’s jaw is set, her chin lifted, but tears threaten to spill onto her cheeks. ‘She split up with him, that’s why he did it…’ she whispers.
‘Nothing is ever that black and white. Matty tried to persuade her to break up with Will to give him something to write songs about. He told me himself he was worried he’d have to get a proper job. Now, that’s pretty damning, but it’s not Matty’s fault. And Reu thinks it’s his fault for overdosing on heroin, but it wasn’t his fault, either. Everyone I’ve interviewed over the years, everyone I’ve spoken to, has told me they felt somehow responsible for his death. Every single one of them. You blame yourself too, don’t you?’
She ignores the question. ‘You lied to your mother,’ she says. ‘That’s your problem, not mine.’
‘She wasn’t to blame. You know it in your heart, Mary. I know you do. I know because you’ve told me a hundred times how you regret the way you treated Will after they got together. You didn’t expect their relationship to last, did you? He loved her! And you wouldn’t let her go to the funeral. You wouldn’t let her have any of his things. Even though she was the most important person in his life. His soulmate.’
‘There’s nothing I can do. You’ve got yourself in this mess—’
‘Thereissomething you could do,’ I say. ‘You have a chance to make up for the way you treated the woman your son loved.’
‘It’s too late. It won’t change anything––’
‘Let me write it in the book. Let me say Will had otosclerosis. Let my mum be happy…’
Chapter 86
One Year Later
July 2025
Liv
My stomach is tight, and my mouth is dry. I wipe my hands on the sides of my dress before straightening a pile of books.Mybooks. I take one from the top and prop it against the others so everyone can see the cover. My favourite picture of Will Bailey: the one my mother took of him in the summer of 1997. My name is in white capital letters along the bottom: OLIVIA LAWRENCE-KING. I’m still getting used to it even though I’ve had it for three years now.
Ben arrives. He’s out of breath from running up the stairs.