Page 18 of An Unholy Affair
She smiled. ‘Did you catch the vicar up?’
He nodded and pulled out the card that Eveline had given him. ‘She said we could discuss the funeral another time.’
Silence hung between them.
‘Jack—’
‘I know you can’t stay. I’ll sort everything out.’
‘But your work?’
‘I’m due some time off, anyway. It’s not a problem.’
‘I’m so sorry, it’s just we’re so far away, and with Steph’s work, and Betsy, and me being about to pop, I don’t know how we can do it.’
He reached across and squeezed his sister’s hand. ‘It’s fine. I don’t want you here, anyway.’
She raised an eyebrow.
‘You know what I mean. There’s no way I’m having you near this toxic cesspool.’
Her eyes filled with tears. ‘Thank you. You’ve always looked after me.’
‘It was never enough.’
‘It was. I got off lightly and you know it.’
He stared at their clasped hands. He couldn’t believe their father was actually gone.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked. ‘How are you feeling? About Dad?’
He released her hands and rubbed his forehead. ‘Honestly? I thought I would feel relief or even happiness, but I don’t. I’m angry that I never got to say to his face everything that’s been running around my head for years.’
His sister nodded. ‘Most people regret not telling someone who’s passed just how much they loved them. But I regret not telling him what an evil bastard he was. You know, he never even came to see Betsy? Mum did, but he didn’t.’ She shook her head. ‘He was such a fucking arsehole. And the worst part? I know I’m going to be really, really sad about this. It’s going to stir up all the shit from our childhood again, just when I thought I’d got over it.’
A lump filled Jack’s throat, and he nodded.
‘Before I forget,’ Emily continued, ‘I rang Foxbrooke Surgery and told them Mum wasn’t coping. A locum is going to come by later and hopefully give her something to take the edge off. Or at least make her think twice before assaulting the vicar.’ His sister sighed. ‘That poor woman. She seemed so nice.’
‘She is. I mean, she seems very nice.’
Emily glanced at her watch. ‘Look, if we’re going to leave you here on your own, then you need to get some rest. Go take a shower and get some sleep.’
He yawned as a wave of tiredness hit. ‘You sure?’
‘Yes, of course. You stink and look like you haven’t slept for a month. I’ll deal with the doctor when they come.’
It waslate afternoon by the time Jack woke. He lay in his childhood bed and stared up at the ceiling. He’d hoped to see faint marks from where he’d once stuck glow-in-the-dark stars. But the room had been repainted and every trace of him and his childhood had gone.
He listened for noises from downstairs, but the house was silent. His sister must have already left. Sitting up in bed, he scrolled through his phone, dealing with work first. He refunded Sylvia her money. Had that really only been last night?What a shitshow.
Thoughts of Eveline shimmered at the edges of his mind, but he ignored them. He sent emails, putting off his regular clients back in France, then messaged the only friend he had who actually knew how he earned money. Cyrille Blanchett was a flamboyant party planner in his forties and adored Jack and the intrigue of his job.
Jack: Have to stay in the UK for a bit. Dad died yesterday.
Cyrille: Putain! You okay?
Jack: Yeah. Can’t talk. I’ll ring soon.
