Page 46 of An Unholy Affair
She swallowed, her unbandaged hand moving reflexively to her stomach, then away. ‘Er…’ She looked at Simon.
No way are you eating this, you fucker.Jack stared at Simon, willing him to do the right thing.
Simon moved to the kettle. ‘Why don’t you sit down and eat?’ he said to her. ‘How about I make you a cup of tea?’
Eveline’s eyes widened. Jack pulled out a chair, and she sat on the edge, her back straight, as if tensed to leap up at any moment. He finished making the sandwich and placed it in front of her.
By the sink, Simon was struggling to turn on the tap.
Jack wandered over. ‘First time?’ he asked, wrenching it open. ‘It is a bit old and stiff.’
‘Shouldn’t you be with Patricia?’ Simon replied, hovering near boiling point.
Jack glanced at the clock, then addressed Eveline. ‘Mum’s due her eyedrops in twenty minutes so I’m going to pop home now. I can come back later.’
She nodded. The sandwich was in her hand, but she’d yet to take a bite.
‘Aren’t you going to try it?’
Blushing, she took a mouthful. Fierce pride rushed through him as her eyelids briefly closed. She gave him a thumbs up as she chewed, then swallowed and smiled.
‘Thank you, Jack. This is perfect. You can make me one of these again.’
He grinned back. ‘As you wish.’
An intimate moment of silence stretched between them before he broke it. He gave Simon a terse nod and left.
Back home,his mother was in bed. Jack had moved the TV to her room, and she appeared to be using it as visual sedation. She’d started with daytime shows about antiques, but had regressed to the other end of the age spectrum and was currently watching CBeebies.
‘Children’s television wasn’t like this when you were young,’ she said, her voice empty.
Jack didn’t know what to say, so stood by the bed, watching it with her for a few minutes. The screen was filled with colour, joy, and love. Three things that had been in short supply when he and his sister were growing up.
‘Do you think Betsy watches this?’ she asked.
Jack knew she did but didn’t want to rub salt in the wound by telling his mother about all the times he’d flown to the UK only to visit his sister.
‘Probably? Why don’t you give them a ring and ask?’
Patricia stared at the house phone by her bed, then at the door, as if expecting her husband to come through it and tell her not to call them. She changed the channel to a rerun of a detective show from the seventies. ‘Are you going back to the rectory?’
‘I was planning to. If you’re okay with that?’
She nodded. ‘Will you do the eulogy?’
Jack’s heart sank. He’d expected this, but it was still the last thing he wanted to do at the funeral. He’d much rather hide at the back, get wasted, then piss over his father’s grave. That, or simply not show up at all.
‘Yes. Is there anything you want me to say? I don’t know much about Dad’s childhood.’
She shrugged and changed the channel again, landing on a cookery show.
‘Not now.’
He hesitated, wanting to leave, but not sure if he should.
‘I’m fine, Jack.’ She sighed. ‘You can go.’
Outside the rectory,Jack inspected the back door. It was clear how much it had swelled in the wet weather. He took a few photos and sent them to Finn.
