Page 67 of An Unholy Affair
His friend glanced around the room and shrugged. ‘I’ve seen some of them before. Maybe they’re your dad’s old work colleagues?’
A waiter passed, carrying a tray of drinks.
Finn took it from him. ‘Thanks, mate.’ He carried the tray to a window alcove and Jack followed.
The men sat, and Jack took another glass. The knot in his stomach loosened. On the other side of the room was his mother, still carrying Betsy and talking animatedly to Eveline.
‘I don’t fucking get it,’ he said to Finn.
‘Get what?’
‘Mum. Look at her.’
‘She looks happy.’
‘Yeah. It makes me sick.’
‘Huh? You don’t want her to be happy?’
‘Of course I want her to be happy. It’s not that.’
‘Then what is it?’
Jack necked another glass of wine. ‘You know what she was like with me and Em—always so ratty with us. We made too much noise, we made too much mess, blah, blah, blah. We were a constant irritant. But now look at her. She’s acting like she’s grandparent of the bloody year. She hasn’t put Betsy down once since the service, and she’s showing her off like some kind of prize-winning pony.’
‘And…’ Finn paused. ‘You wish she’d been like that with you?’
Jack took another glass and nodded. ‘Mum always seemed embarrassed by us. As if our behaviour was a direct reflection of some failing of hers. But I think Betsy could smear the contents of her nappy on someone’s face and she wouldn’t bat an eyelid.’
Finn snorted.
‘It makes me angry for what me and Em went through. And pissed off that she’s had so little to do with Betsy for the last couple of years, but now picks her up as if they’re best buds.’
‘Honestly, mate, I know it’s hard, but give her a break. Can you imagine how weird it is for her now that your dad’s gone?’
Jack nodded and took a gulp of wine. Finn was right. He’d had over twelve years’ worth of distance from his father. His mother had only had a couple of weeks.
Jack sat with Finn,drinking steadily until his friend had to go. Henry and Estelle had been buttonholed by locals, Connor was at work, and Jack didn’t want to bother his sister and Steph when he was starting to feel drunk. The only other person he wanted to be around was Eveline, but in this state, he needed her at least ten feet away.
Grabbing a bottle from the makeshift bar, Jack left the Manor through the back door and wandered into the formal gardens. It hadn’t changed since he was a child. The Duke of Somerset was a keen gardener, and the beds were filled with autumn colours. He made his way to a secluded bench inserted into a yew hedge and sat, the bottle at his feet and his head in his hands.
Memories swirled and heaved inside him, like a boat tossed on a choppy sea. He’d spent years believing his life was just the way he wanted it, and all it took was the death of his father and coming back to Foxbrooke for everything to unravel.
Spinning around at the centre was Eveline, pulling on the threads of his very being, making him feel things he knew he shouldn’t.
‘Jack?’
He glanced up, instinctively pushing the bottle under the bench with his heel. It toppled with a crash and he grabbed it, stopping the rest from being spilled.
‘Fuck!’
Eveline stood a few feet away, as if respecting his space. ‘I haven’t had a chance to speak to you since the funeral. How are you doing?’
Howwashe doing? Getting drunker by the second. Falling into the slippy, slidey state where filters disintegrated and thoughts became words.
‘Why do people have kids?’ Jack fumbled at his feet for the bottle and took a drink, only noticing when he stopped that wine had dribbled down his neck. He swiped it away clumsily with the back of his hand.
Eveline stepped a little closer. ‘For all sorts of reasons, but I suppose because they really want them.’
