Page 56 of An Unholy Affair
‘I’m afraid I’m really busy the rest of the afternoon and evening,’ she said. ‘But we can go through everything tomorrow if you’re free?’
A wave of exhaustion broke over him, battering him to the bones. It wasn’t just physical tiredness, but the numbing emotional weariness from his past catching up with him and forcing him to look it in the eye. He wanted to drink until he lost himself in sleep so deep, even the nightmares couldn’t find him.
‘Jack?’
He rubbed his hand over his face. ‘Yeah, sorry. That’s fine. Thank you. I’ll look in the loft later.’
‘Eveline!’
A man was waving at her from across the high street. Anextremelygood-looking man. Jack’s inner alpha pricked up its ears.
‘Isaac!’
The man crossed the road and carefully hugged her. ‘Are we still good for tonight?’
She looked genuinely happy to see him. ‘Absolutely. I’ve been so looking forward to spending some quiet time with you.’
‘Quiet’ time? What the fuck?
Isaac held out his hand. ‘Hi, I’m Isaac.’
And? Boyfriend? Friend? Foe?He shook it. ‘Jack.’
‘Are you a friend of Eveline? I haven’t seen you around.’
Unlike Simon, or beta-man Leslie, Isaac was objectively handsome, with green eyes, tousled curly brown hair, and a dusting of stubble on his tanned jaw. To add insult to injury, he also seemed nice.Back down.Eveline’s not your girlfriend and you don’t even want her as your girlfriend.
‘I, er…’ Whatwashe to her?
‘Yes, Jack’s a friend,’ Eveline jumped in.
Hear that? Friend. Spelled ‘don’t-touch-her-and-by-the-way-she’s-the-fucking-vicar.’
‘Jack’s in Foxbrooke for a few weeks helping me with the mural project at Foxbrooke Haven, and Estelle with the Winter Ball,’ she continued. ‘His father passed away last week, and the funeral is this Sunday.’
Isaac’s smile left his face. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
Jack nodded. An awkward silence descended. He needed to get away.
‘I need to head back to do Mum’s eye drops,’ he said to Eveline. ‘Will you text me when you’re free tomorrow to go over the funeral preparations?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Thanks.’ Jack nodded at Isaac and hurried away.
‘Fuck’s sake!’
Jack rubbed his head for the third time after smacking it on one of the low beams in the cramped loft.
Being here was like being locked in the past. Dusty memories he’d tried to forget were waiting to be rediscovered. His mum said there was a box of old photos belonging to his father somewhere, but she wasn’t interested in helping find it. So Jack went through each box in turn, bringing the past back to life until he couldn’t bear it anymore.
He found Christmas decorations, remembering ones he’d made for the tree at school. His mother was always appreciative, but by the following year, each one had disappeared. There was nothing personal left in the box. No photos stuck inside plastic baubles, or baby handprints pressed into modelling clay.
Stupidly, he’d hoped there would be something up here from him and his sister’s childhood. Something to make him believe his parents cared for them in the way he’d always dreamed they would. But there was nothing but the same old tired shit people stashed in their attics.
He opened another box filled with crockery. Wasn’t this the stuff they’d got from his grandmother’s house after she died? Most of the pieces were wrapped in newspaper, but a glimpse of dusty cream paper snagged an almost-forgotten memory. He lifted out a cup wrapped in sugar paper, the kind that was ubiquitous at Foxbrooke Primary school. On the paper was a stick-figure painting of him, his sister and a dog under a rainbow. The wordsJack Newton, age 6had been written by a teacher underneath.
A sharp pain pierced his chest, and he took a shaky breath. Jack saw himself as a little boy, filled with excitement about what he’d created. Only to have it dismissed and used for packing up cups and saucers that were never used. The sight broke his heart. If only he could go back in time and hug that little boy. Tell him everything was going to be okay. Tell him that he was loved.
