Page 34 of Postscript

‘I have to get dressed,’ he says, then makes his way to the bedroom.

‘Don’t you want to talk about it?’

He stops midway. ‘You’ve already decided. I’ve figured you out. Long silences and not talking for months on end means you’re making your own decisions. That’s fine, that’s how you and me will function from now on. Let’s just do our own thing and let each other know after.’

He disappears into the bedroom. As I am breathing out slowly, he appears in the doorway to the living room, top still off. ‘Not so long ago you got hit by a car, Holly, probably because you were thinking about this club and weren’t paying attention to what you were doing. You shouldn’t make rash decisions after something like that.’

‘It’s not rash. It was over a week ago, and sometimes frights make you think faster, with more focus. I can see it more clearly than ever. There is absolutely no reason why helping them would make me revert to who I was. It’s an entirely different set of circumstances. I can help them. And anyway, the accident wasn’t my fault, the taxi pulled out, I couldn’t have avoided it.’

‘What did you tell me the night you came home from the podcast? If I ever decide to do this again, stop me. I remember that, you might not. You’ve been through enough. God knows what the hell you’re thinking after what happened to you.’

‘I think that this will help me.’

‘You’re doing this for you? Or for them?’

‘For all of us.’

He throws his arms up. ‘You almost got run over by a car!’

‘It bumped me. I hurt my ankle, not my head! But at least my recuperation has given you more time to spend with Kate and Ava,’ I snap.

My catty response is not quite how I wanted to mention the amount of time Gabriel has been spending with his daughter and ex-wife since the accident. I shouldn’t throw it at him as a negative because I know time with his daughter is what he’s been craving since I met him. Though it was my decision to stay with Mum and Dad for the week, it grated on my nerves a little bit more each time he was out with them.

‘I’m not getting back together with Kate, if you’re jealous.’

‘And I’m not getting back with Gerry, if you’re jealous.’

He calms and smiles at that. He runs his hand through his hair.

‘But why?’ he asks simply. ‘Why do you choose to be surrounded by so much … death?’

‘I’m not going to run away from it and pretend that it hasn’t affected me. I see this as a positive way of dealing with it. Gabriel, I’m not going to let this club affect us, if that’s what you’re worried about?’

‘Yet we’re arguing. Now. About us. Because of them.’

But an argument is never really over just one thing. It’s the creature that feeds off its host, and it leaves me wondering what exactly we are arguing about.

15

Back at work, I move more slowly around the shop but I’m still able to function. Though I can’t cycle, I’m able to drive, and I’m thankful that my car is automatic as my left foot is in a cast but I can still use my right on the pedals. I’m ready to get back to business. It’s been over a month since I spoke to or heard from the PS, I Love You Club and I have the overwhelming urge to begin as soon as possible. It was Bert who had a clear idea of what he wanted to achieve with his letters and Bert in my opinion who was the most misguided. Hearing the kind of things he was going to do for his wife reminded me exactly what it was that Gerry did for me and it made me feel angry that he was getting it wrong. I feel if I have any chance of helping the club, Bert is first on my list.

I call Bert and nervously wait to see if the gang I cast aside when they needed me, are willing to take me back. I would pace, but the cast hinders me, it slows me down in so many different ways.

‘Hi, Bert, it’s Holly Kennedy.’

‘Holly Kennedy,’ he wheezes.

‘From the podcast, I met your group some time ago.’

‘PS, I Love You, Holly,’ he says.

‘How are you holding up, Bert?’

‘So-so,’ he wheezes. ‘Had an … infection in my lung … just home … for as long as … I can.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘Better to be home,’ his words are a raspy whisper.