There’s a hint of guilt in Mairi’s eyes, but she only shrugs. ‘It gives them hope.’
‘How?’ I ask, trying to keep my voice from rising.
‘Just take a look,’ she says, and points to the people below. ‘Visibility goes a long way. Seeing other people step into themselves gives you a sense that things are going to be OK. Especially if you can’t fully be yourself, for whatever reason. It creates a safe space.’
‘I’m a person, not a safe space.’ I clench my hands around the bench to keep them from trembling.
‘I know that. And I realise that things went a bit far.’
‘A bit? While everyone was having a great time speculating about me and my feelings for Luca, I was panicking that our friendship would fall apart. It was shit.’
‘I’m sorry, Simo,’ she says, and I finally see understanding dawning on her face. ‘If it helps, people only want the best for you and Luca.’
I have a few comebacks on the tip of my tongue – like ifthey wanted what’s best for us, they’d have stayed the fuck out of my relationship and projected their creepy fantasies on some fictional couple – but I’m not going to get into a fight with Mairi in the middle of her coming-out moment. I’d considered us friends. I excuse myself and find Luca among the crowd on the ground floor.
‘Hey, I’m gonna go. I need a breather.’ I want to take his hand, but my senses have gone into overdrive and the world feels too raw for touch.
‘Oh, yeah. Let me just tell Dad—’
‘No, you stay here. Celebrate. I need a moment for myself, to mull things over.’
‘OK,’ he says, and searches my face. He must sense my reservations, because he doesn’t attempt to reach out. ‘Call me though. If you want to hang out later.’
‘I will,’ I say, but I know that I’ll get an early night. I crave the relief of letting my messy thoughts spill out into the notebook. The tenderness in Luca’s eyes almost makes me change my mind, but I walk out of the library, glad to be breathing sea air.
When I get home, Dad is in the front yard, shifting pots around and adding new seeds to the flower beds. He once told me that some daisies need to be planted a year before they flower. I’m not sure I’d have the patience. I go into the kitchen, watch him brush dirt off the tiles outside. When he joins me a few minutes later, I’ve finished off three Nutella sandwiches. Hamza loved Nutella. Each birthday, he’d ask for a jar, and despite Mum’s disapproval, she gave in every time.
‘Don’t let your mum see that,’ Dad warns, and I dutifullyhide the spread at the back of the cupboard. He washes his hands and makes himself a coffee.
‘Dad, why don’t we remember Hamza?’
I almost expect him to flinch at the mention of my brother’s name, but he only blinks slowly.
‘What makes you say that?’
‘There are no pictures of him in the house. And you guys don’t talk about him, ever. If I bring him up, Mum changes the topic.’
Dad takes a sip of coffee before he replies. ‘Your mum, she’s a very private person. She keeps things close to her heart. Doesn’t like to be vulnerable. A bit like you, you know? But she remembers him, every day. It’s impossible not to.’
‘So that’s why we don’t have pictures of him?’
‘No, that’s my decision. I don’t like pictures. They freeze people in time. And Hamza – Hamza is free.’ He looks out of the window as he speaks, but then his gaze lands on me. ‘But if you want, if pictures are how you want to remember him, you can pick some from your mum’s albums and hang them up. She has a lot of them. Or you could do what I do.’
‘Which is?’
‘Do you remember what Hamza’s favourite flower was?’
For a second, my mind is blank, and I’m terrified that I’ve started to forget my brother without realising. Then: ‘Daisies. He loved daisies.’
‘He did. So I make sure they don’t ever stop blooming.’
CHAPTER 27 – LUCA
It’s the last Sunday of spring and dolphins have been spotted in the waters off Clifford Island. Every year, their arrival brings the first wave of tourists to Lombard, and you’d think Dad would be happy about the uptick in business, but he only complains.Are we all ignoring the sharp teeth? Dolphins are killers, not puppies, he says, and yet I know he’d far rather be chasing dolphins than having lunch with his parents.
Whenever Anna invites us over, Dad plans a trip to a theme park or suggests finally following Mum to New Zealand, then calls me a killjoy when I turn him down. I tell him he doesn’t need to come, but he does anyway, like he still doesn’t trust his parents enough to leave them alone with me.
‘I don’t know how you can taste anything with all that Parmesan,’ Anna comments.
