Page 118 of Spiralling Skywards
“Him. She held out hope till the day she was killed that he’d come back, and every day that he didn’t, she died a bit more.”
“Luke told me how bad things got. How come nobody stepped in? Why did nobody take us away from her?”
She let out a long breath.
“I’m not accusing you of anything, Nan. I just don’t understand how she could be so neglectful and get away with it.”
“Don’t you dare repeat this, but Luke covered for her. He never once told us how bad things were, and if we came to visit, he’d always make up some story about her having a bad night with you. He was so frightened that they’d split the two of you up that he lied.”
My poor brother. I really did owe him so much. We reached the pub and both stood outside.
“Thanks for telling me all this.”
“Wish I didn’t have to, darling, wish I could tell you an entirely different story. Just know this—you’re nothing like her. You are a beautiful, bright young woman who’s bagged herself a hot Australian. Who, if he hasn’t already, is gonna pop the question any day.” She winked at me. Like I said, not much got past Nan.
“Now, let’s go and get shit faced, I bloody need it after that. Longest walk to the pub ever that was.”
As hard as all of that was to hear. It had made me feel a whole lot better about myself. Luke and I were nothing like our parents. I’d make Liam happy. I’d give him the babies that he wanted, we’d fill that bloody house with them. I’d give him so many that we’d have to buy a bigger house.
***
Yeah, when I said that, I didn’t exactly expect it all to happen quite the way it did.
The next morning, I woke to an empty bed, but when I rolled over, Liam was kneeling next to me with his chin resting on his arms at the edge of the mattress.
He reached down beside him and presented me with a square box. I instantly recognised the duck egg blue, and my belly pulled all sorts of little manoeuvres. I worried for a moment that the gases might escape, which would’ve been all kinds of embarrassing.
“Is that a Tiffany box?”
“That’s what it says on the lid.”
“What’s in it?”
Without answering me, he opened the blue box to reveal a black velvet one inside.
“Where did it come from?” I asked. My eyes not leaving his face.
“Interestingly enough, a shop called Tiffany, would you believe?”
“You’re hilarious.”
“It’s a gift.”
He flipped the lid open. I made a sound that I couldn’t even begin to imagine how to spell. It was a laugh/sigh/whimper/sob sort of noise, my eyes leaked instantly.
“It’s the Edwardian Cushion Cut,” I choked out.
His eyes widened in surprise.
“It is.”
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. How did you know?”
“Know what?”
“This ring, that I love this ring. I saw a picture of it in a magazine years ago, and it has just always been ‘the ring’ . . . But I never thought, I mean I never dreamed . . .” I sounded presumptuous. “Who’s it for?”
“Winston. It was love at first sight. It was the slobber that won me over, imagining those chops around my . . . well you get my drift.”
