Page 68 of In Just One Day

‘No, but it’s her. I know it. And I think she’d come to see Billy’s grave, too.’

‘So did you say anything to her?’ Tilda took a slow sip from her glass.

‘I didn’t get a chance to, and I didn’t really put two and two together until later that day. But now I’m thinking that I want to talk to her. Tilda, it’s all I can think about.’

Tilda’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘But I thought you said you didn’t want the details.’

‘I don’t, not of what happened. I can find those out after the court case if I want to. No, this is more about me wanting to understand why, not what. Do you see?’

‘Sort of.’ Tilda tried her best to look as if she did. ‘But if that’s the case, why not ask him, not his mother?’

‘You mean the boy who did it?’

‘Yes, surely he’s in the best position to tell you.’

‘Maybe he is. But there was just something about seeing her that made me think that I could speak to her, one mother to another, you know? Perhaps one day I could speak to him, too, but at the moment, that feels too brutal. I’m not sure I could face him. No, it’s her I want to talk to.’

Tilda wasn’t sure if she really understood, but nodded even so. ‘I see what you mean.’

Flora smiled at her friend. ‘I realise this might not make sense.’

‘Oh, Flora, can you tell I’m struggling?’ Tilda laughed apologetically.

‘You’re an open book, Tilda. Look, I feel like I’ve been shattered into a million tiny fragments over the last few months but if I’m to try and keep going, I’ve got to learn to live with what’s happened. With Billy, I mean. I’m not sure I have the energy to care what happens to my parents’ marriage at this point, to be honest.’

‘Oh, Flora, you don’t mean that.’

‘No, I’m sure you’re right, but this is about making sense of what happened to Billy. Or at least trying to.’

‘That makes a bit more sense. Sorry, Flora, I’m probably not saying the right things at all.’

‘No, you’re saying exactly the right things. Everyone’s so worried about saying the wrong thing, they end up not saying anything at all.’ Flora topped up their glasses. ‘I guess what I’m saying is that I know it’s not going to be easy, but I want to try to move on. No, not move on. That’s the wrong phrase. I think I just mean… I want to go on. Yes, that’s it. I want to find a way to go on, and not feel sad all the time. But to do that I need to have some sort of understanding from somewhere.’ Flora popped a crisp in her mouth, the loud crunch breaking the small silence that had fallen between them.

‘Fuck me, Flo. That’s quite heavy.’

Flora burst out laughing, closely followed by Tilda, and once they’d started, they couldn’t stop. They laughed until tears rolled down their faces.

‘What’s so funny?’ Pip stood by the kitchen door, a half-smile on her face.

‘Oh, I don’t know, darling. We were just talking and, well, sometimes you’ve just got to laugh.’ Flora wiped the tears from her face.

‘Amen to that,’ said Tilda, draining her glass.

30

‘Stephen, are you awake?’ Denise knocked on the bedroom door, gently. A muffled reply came from the other side of it. ‘I’ve got you a cup of tea.’

‘Yeah, come in.’

She turned on the light and put the tea down on the small table by his bed. ‘How are you feeling?’ She looked at him as he rubbed his eyes, his hair sticking up, looking unbearably young.

‘Thanks, Mum.’ He reached across for the tea, spying his one and only suit hanging up on the back of his cupboard door as he did, a stark reminder of their day ahead.

She perched on the end of his bed. ‘I’ll make you a proper breakfast, if you like. I think you should eat something before we go.’

‘I’m not…’ He looked at his mother’s face, expectant. ‘Thanks, that would be lovely.’

‘Eggs and bacon?’

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