Letting You Go (13 page)

J
em felt as if she’d been slipped inside a velvet-lined purse, cushioned from the outside world and all its terrible mistakes. The entire farmhouse had fallen deadly silent once Alex had finished humming over whatever it was she’d been baking at first light.

Jem was sitting on her bed in a cold damp bath towel, her hands placed on her lap, face looking squarely out across the gardens to the tree where their old rope swing still hung. She missed those long summers, playing with Malcolm Sinclair and her brother before they’d started high school and Dill had just become her annoying little brother, something she’d outgrown like an ugly shoe.

A terrible knot tightened in Jem’s stomach. A knot that hadn’t been there before she’d met with Malcolm last night. He’d regretted it immediately; she’d seen it in his face. But it was too late then, it couldn’t be undone.

Jem felt another bout of tears burning behind her eyes. She wanted to go back. To live yesterday again so she could politely decline Mal’s request to meet, to keep things how they were, not what they’d now become. What had they
become? What were they to each other now? Oh God, it was such a mess.
You stupid idiot.
How could she have not seen it coming? It was there all along, all the time they were growing up. A connection. A spark. And she hadn’t realised what it had meant, not fully, and now it could never be the same again.

Jem wiped her eyes again. He’d asked afterwards if she would tell anyone. Would she tell Alex? But how could she? Alex and Dad, they couldn’t know!

‘We have to keep this to ourselves, Mal,’ Jem had said catatonically. ‘Private. No one else can ever find out.’

‘Do you really think we can keep this secret, Jem? The game’s changed now. Everything has changed,’ Mal had responded.

‘I can keep a secret Mal,’ she’d told him.

Jem wiped her wrist rattily at her wet eyes.
Yes, because, you’re excellent at lying to your family, aren’t you, Jem? This should be a fucking breeze.

But Mal, he hadn’t been so confident. ‘Millie will know something’s up though. I know she will. I’m sorry, Jem, but I’m a terrible liar.’

A
lex used the cuff of her jacket to neaten up the mascara under her eyes. She wasn’t completely convinced the tears had stopped yet. At least she’d managed to get out of the garage first. She’d left him there, doubled over in rage to the backdrop of a trembling soprano. He couldn’t even bring himself to tell her who’d been on the phone tittle-tattling, he’d been so incensed.

Alex gave in to the tiny spasms the crying had brought to her breathing and watched an old chap fumbling with the parking meter by the ambulances. It was a silly misunderstanding. Whoever had felt the need to ring her dad had clearly got the wrong end of the stick about Jem and Mal, of course they had. And who even did that? And how could Ted be so quick to believe something like that of Jem anyway? Didn’t he know her at all? Jem would never do anything to break up another person’s marriage, it wasn’t in her genetic makeup. She’d never be able to face their mum for a start.

Alex stared vacantly through the windscreen.
If his opinion
is that low of you, Jem, there isn’t much hope for the rest of us.
And nothing for Finn.

Well, there was no confusion now at least.
The son of a no good bastard hell-bent on destroying their family.
Didn’t exactly smack of a second chance.

Another juddering breath made its way out of Alex’s chest. She was an idiot. A few nice run-ins with Finn and she’d been a naïve teenager again.
Stupid girl.
Did she honestly think that Finn would want this kind of hassle again? Just to be friends? If Jem and Mal Sinclair had the gossips flexing their muscles just think what seeing Finn and Alex around town would kick up again. The first time had been awful enough.

Have you seen them, carrying on as if they haven’t done anything wrong? Youth of today. Brazen as you like.

You know what they were up to, don’t you? While the poor boy was trying to hang on to the tree? Ted found them half-dressed, I heard. I said that girl’s father would end up in a cell at some point.

They left him. A nine-year-old child with a disability. Gerry says it wasn’t a disability, exactly, but Dillon never had full use of that one arm, I used to look after him at nursery. His nerves had gotten all stretched at birth, somehow. The poor child had no chance in those currents, even without that
compromised arm of his. Can you believe they just left him? Gerry’s looking for a new babysitter for Darcy. It’s just not worth the risk.

Alex gripped the steering wheel and locked her arms out against it. Finn didn’t need all that again. The finger-wagging. The reminders. She checked her face again in the truck mirror. Her nose looked red and puffy. Great. Just what her mum needed. She looked about the hospital car park for a bin, somewhere to lob her muffins.
Secret weapon.
It was laughable.
She
was laughable.

The buzzer onto the ward didn’t appear to be working when Alex got up there. She’d been waiting for the puffiness to even out again before showing her face. Alex pressed on the intercom thingy again, suddenly remembering the conversation with Jem, in the Garden of Reflection. ‘It’s not that straightforward, Alex,’ Jem had said. For a split second, a fleeting sniff of doubt clouded Alex’s brain. Jem and Mal? No way, it wasn’t even worth considering.

The door onto the AAU clicked open and a woman with an evenly greying bob and a pair of glasses hanging from her neck pattered through.

‘Alexandra, my darling girl!’ Helen Fairbanks’ warm welcome hit Alex like a ball against the back of her head. The angst dissipated immediately.

‘Hi, Helen. Back again already?’ Alex smiled warmly.

‘Just checking in on your mum. I thought her hands were looking a little dry yesterday so I’ve brought her some cocoa butter I wasn’t using. She’s looking much healthier I think this morning, darling. Better than you I’m afraid, Alex. Is there something the matter? Ooh, are those muffins?’

‘Er, no. I mean yes. They are muffins.’ She’d found a bin in the car park but the thought of throwing food away wasn’t as easy as it used to be before she’d gone to work at the food bank. ‘For the nurses.’ Alex smiled.

Helen was already taking Alex by the elbow, leading her gently to the seats along the corridor wall so there was zero chance of Alex slipping through her grasp without a nice chat first. Some people invaded your personal space when they spoke to you, got right up close so you worried how your breath might be shaping up or whether they were looking at the imperfections in your complexion while you tried to talk unselfconsciously, without breathing all over them. But Helen Fairbanks was just familiar. Like a friendly aunt, who smelled of cocoa butter and Yorkshire puddings and would never dream of holding against a family that her five year old daughter had been terribly hurt because of the actions of one of their employees.

‘Would you like one, Helen? They won’t be as good as yours, I’m afraid.’ Helen already had an arm through Alex’s.

‘Oh, lovely!’ Helen said, taking a muffin. ‘Now then, let’s just pop those down for a minute. I wanted to check on you
all, Alex. Properly. How are things? How’s your father dealing with all this?’

Alex bit at the inside of her cheek.
Devastated. Frustrated. On the verge of exploding?
‘He’s doing his best. I don’t think I’m helping much.’

‘Of course you are! Do you know, your mother said the very same thing to me about your dad once, after our little bump with the truck. I did
not
brake too late, by the way. It was the wretched snow and, well, we won’t say too much about Martin Finn’s workmanship. Anyway, your poor father was under so much pressure at the time, keeping the garage going, trying to make ends meet. If he’s sounding off at you, my love, it’s because he needs to lean on you. Like he did your mum back then.’

‘I don’t think he’s very good at leaning on anyone, Helen.’

‘Well I told your mother that too. The thing is with these men, Alexandra, you have to let them lean on you without them actually feeling that they’re leaning on you. Your mother realised what a good friend I am and that I talk a lot of sense and so instead of worrying about your dad being so tired and grumpy, she went out herself and did a few little jobs to help the situation.’

Helen looked pleased with herself. Alex remembered her mum being thrilled when she’d been able to stop cleaning for the posh families in town and work in the family records department at the Town Hall instead. Alex hadn’t remembered any signs that her parents’ marriage might’ve wobbled though.

‘Thanks, Helen. I know all this is hard for him. Mum’s like, his world.’ Alex felt a stab of pity for him then. She was dead right, her mum was his world. Of course he was emotionally charged.

‘Oh I know that. I don’t believe a man has ever loved a woman more than your father loves your mum, other than my Bob of course.’ Helen gave Alex’s arm a squeeze. ‘Through thick and thin your parents have stuck together. Through things no family should have to endure.’ Alex swallowed. Even from Helen it was hard to be reminded. ‘I only hope Malcolm loves my Amelia that way. She’s besotted with him, you know. Mind you he has got the mayor’s good looks. Just not the mayor’s silver tongue. Malcolm’s been trying to talk his way out of something today, my antennae have been twitching. I think he’s in trouble with Millie.’

‘Oh?’ Alex’s antennae were starting to twitch too.

‘Oh yes. Millie lost him last night. I had her ringing up after midnight asking if I’d seen his police car driving past, which I sometimes do if I’m watching the TV in the bedroom with the curtains open. I said, whatever you do, Amelia, don’t phone his ruddy mother looking for him. Louisa will accuse you of something or other, being a bad wife for not knowing where your husband is at that hour.’

Alex replayed through her head her father’s insinuations about Jem and Mal. She laughed uncomfortably. ‘Ah yes, Louisa. Always so positive.’

Helen pulled a clump of muffin and popped it into her
mouth. ‘She is not and I don’t mind saying it. I love that boy, Alexandra, Malcolm is a super son-in-law, a wonderful husband to my Millie, and you should see how much he loves our little Alfie. He’s a smashing father. But between you and me – ah,
lovely
muffin – between you and me, Malcolm didn’t get his good points from his mother, I can tell you that. Louisa Sinclair is a bit of a …’ Helen looked about them to be sure they were the only ones in the corridor. She dropped to a whisper and sounded it out. ‘A bit of a
b-i-t-c-h.
’

‘I kinda got that impression. Jem’s not a fan. I don’t think Louisa was very kind to her when she used to hang out with Mal.’

‘Well she wouldn’t be, would she? Louisa always had it in for your mother, Alex. She was always making little digs about Blythe at church, her hair, her dresses. I think Louisa needed to knock your mother down to make herself feel better, I don’t know, about her own hair and dresses I suppose. Some women are insecure that way, and your mother, well she’s just so meek and well liked in the Falls, I suppose that’s what made her Louisa’s target. As I said, a
b-i-you-know-the-rest.
’ Helen took another pinch of muffin. ‘Thank the lord my Millie isn’t like that. Insecure, I mean. Malcolm should’ve called last night instead of worrying her, but it’s not like he’s one of
those
husbands … doing things he shouldn’t. Oh! Hello, Mrs Parsons, how is your poor husband?’

The doors onto the ward opposite were trying to gobble
back up the woman trying to manoeuvre her pram through them.

Alex jumped to hold the doors while a wide-eyed little girl with her finger in her mouth stepped through beneath her. ‘Let me get that for you.’

‘Thank you.’ The mother smiled. ‘Hello again,’ she said uncertainly to Helen.

Helen was already patting the little girl on the head. Alex saw her accidentally leave a crumb in the girl’s hair. ‘Have you been to see your daddy? Is he feeling better?’

The woman smiled self-consciously and began unbuckling the baby from the pushchair. ‘Getting there, thank you.’

‘Oh, wonderful! You won’t have to keep doing this dreadfully long walk every day then, will you?’

‘Sorry, I need to feed her. Poppy, stay by Mummy, please.’ Alex found herself straining to hear, the woman’s voice was so quiet. She looked like she hadn’t slept for a week. Alex had noticed yesterday, when Millie had gone to catch her up, that Mrs Parsons was very slight for someone with such a young baby. They had lots of new mothers visit the food bank and the general consensus amongst them was how hard it was in the first year to get the baby weight off. The wonders of breastfeeding, then?

‘Of course, we’ll give you some privacy. Help yourself to a few of these marvellous muffins! Alex won’t mind, will you? She’ll only give them away, look how slender she is!’ Helen said jovially, moving her and Alex towards the water dispenser further down the corridor.

‘Poor woman,’ Helen whispered as they walked. ‘Millie knows her from the preschool. She lives in one of the terraced houses, up by Susannah’s B&B.’ Alex could see the little girl tucking into a muffin in the reflection of the water tank. ‘Parsons, her name is. Emma or Emily, I forget. Malcolm thinks she’s a battered wife. He’s tried to check in on them but if she doesn’t report it, well … They’ve been having a few
disturbances
at the house, things getting broken, that sort of thing.’ Helen winked knowingly. ‘Of course, she’s never there now, at home. The horrible toad must demand she be here all day every day, as if she hasn’t enough on with the children! If he was my husband, I’d take my frying pan to him.’

‘That’s terrible. Does she have any friends or family she can lean on?’

‘Millie’s been trying to arrange a play date with Alfie and the older girl, keep a bit of a friendly eye on them, but she says the mother’s never home, it’s like she doesn’t want to be at the house while he’s here. No wonder she looks so exhausted. Aren’t some men horrors? Well I hope it was her that kicked the jack over, that’s all I can say. It’s a shame that car didn’t finish the rotter off.’

Alex watched their reflection in the water butt. The little girl was offering her mum a bite of her muffin, but Mrs Parsons wasn’t looking at her daughter, she was too busy tucking muffin after muffin into the back of her pram.