He lifts his face to mine and I can see his hazel eyes are swimming in tears. ‘What is it?’
I watch him switch on the phone. ‘This is Mummy’s old phone.’
‘Yes,’ I say, kneeling into the snow so I can talk to him at his level. Taking out a ball of tissues I dab away the tears which are streaming down his pink cheeks. ‘Talk to me.’
He sniffs and starts to sob. ‘I’ve been talking to Mummy using her phone.’
Instinctively I pull him into me. His tears trickle down my neck.
When he’s stopped crying, he takes the phone and with me watching taps onto photos and videos. With his finger he scrolls through a lot of video clips of him talking into the camera.
‘Oh, Felix,’ I gasp. ‘Did you make all of these?’
Nodding he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. ‘It feels like she’s watching them from heaven. I talk to her about things which have been happening to me. We used to talk a lot.’
Guilt takes hold of me. While I was getting obsessed with dressmaking this poor lad was in desperate need of talking to his mum.
I close his fingers around the phone, and I place mine over the top. ‘Your mum would be so proud of you and I’m sure she’s looking down and watching you record them.’
He offers me the phone. ‘Don’t you want to watch them?’
His offer is tempting but I shake my head. His eyes widen and his mouth falls open. ‘Really?’
‘Those videos are for you and your mum. They’re private. You should keep them and carry on recording her video clips.’ With a wink I say, ‘I bet you are moaning about me on a lot of them.’
The speed at which his little face reddens tells me what I need to know. In view of how obsessed I have been with my dress business and grieving for Vivi, I don’t blame him. With a smile I kiss the top of his head. ‘I don’t blame you for moaning about me. I admit I haven’t been great to live with and I need to take better care of you.’ Placing my hands on his cold cheeks I stare deeply into his hazel eyes. ‘When your Mummy died, I lost my sister. She was my best friend in the whole world. At home I was never sad about looking after you. I was missing your mum. Do you understand me? Felix, you are my family now. I love you with all my heart.’
To my surprise he opens his arms and hugs me. ‘I love you, Emily,’ he says and plants a kiss on my cheek.
By the time we enter the station we are both smiling, holding hands, and singing Christmas songs.
CHAPTER36
RORY
‘Hey, buddy,’ I say, scraping a layer of soft snow from Lawrence’s gravestone and crouching down in front of it. ‘It’s been a long time. I’m sorry.’
With a finger I trace the italic lettering across the front.Loved and missed by all the family.
Casting my eyes across the little white-coated cemetery I gulp back a wave of emotion. The last time I came here was a few years ago with Mum. She claimed I was avoiding going to see Lawrence’s grave, so she practically dragged me here. Shame and guilt wrestle together inside of me.
After leaving Anna and her dreadful revelations, I got the last train to Brighton and stayed in the Travelodge. The woman on reception took pity on me as I struggled into the hotel at seven A.M. with a swollen face. She handed over a makeshift ice pack for my head (a bag of ice from the bar wrapped in a large white serviette). I tried to sleep but was woken up by the young children in the hotel room next door singing Christmas songs and shouting at their mum and dad to wake up. The throbbing pain is not too bad although purplish bruising has started to blossom.
Before I go to see Emily and Felix, I’ve decided to come here.
‘I’ve been a complete idiot. You wouldn’t believe the mess I have got myself into.’
It’s eerily quiet here today with the only noises being me whispering to Lawrence, a whistling icy wind racing around the snow-capped gravestones, and the sound an old man trudging through the snow and along the same gravestone row as me. He comes to gaze down at the stone next to Lawrence’s. His balding head is pink with cold but his ears are covered in thick patches of white hair. ‘It’s a good time to visit,’ he says and gestures towards the stone. ‘That’s my wife, Sheila, down there. Who is she next to?’
I stand up and nod towards Lawrence’s granite stone. ‘That’s my brother.’
The man chuckles. ‘Sheila can talk a lot. I feel sorry for your brother.’
‘I’m sure she’s keeping him company.’
Blowing warm air into his hands the man turns to me. ‘You been in a boxing match?’
I smile. ‘Someone pushed me into a station ticket barrier.’
