Page 55 of My Summer of Magic Moments

What the hell should she say now, after that?

As they reached a bench, he slowed and sat. She sat beside him, her leg gently propped beside his, and he looked down at her thigh, and then up, as though he’d only just realized she was still there with him.

‘How?’ her voice was soft.

A second or two passed. His voice came out broken. ‘A car accident last November.’ Then he looked right into her eyes. His pain so acute, it was almost hard to look back. ‘It was my fault. I was driving.’

Oh, fuck.

‘I was driving. It was an icy morning. I was meant to be dropping them off at her parents …’ He paused, staring across at the toddler and the man by the pond. ‘Spun off the road. Hit a tree. They never made it out of the car. Yet I walked away.’ His voice hardened. ‘Why the fuck did I get to walk away? It should have been me, not them. It should have been fucking me.’ His fist screwed into a punch, but there was only air to hit. ‘It should have been me,’ he repeated, softer now, his anger, his regret, tensing every limb, the muscles in his jaw tight.

‘Ed, I’m so sorry.’ She reached an arm around his taut shoulders, but it felt like he was a world away from her. She had no idea what to say next. What words could possibly help that pain? Are you okay? was so obviously not right. How could you ever be okay after that? She knew pain and fear and hurt, but she didn’t know this. This grief so raw. She just left her hand there on his shoulder, leaning in slightly against the warmth of his taut body, stayed silent.

It seemed like he was hardly registering her presence, lost in his nightmare world.

There were birds tweeting from the trees around them. Children laughing and playing. And a beautiful man with a heart full of hurt beside her. She felt her eyes misting, but that would be no good. If she could support him at all, she would, but she really didn’t know how.

She lay her hand over his where it rested on his thigh, gave it a small squeeze of support, of humanity. He didn’t withdraw his hand, let it be sheltered by hers. Yet it stayed perfectly still below hers. Time seemed to freeze around them. He finally lifted his head, looked out across the park and gave a low sigh of a breath.

‘So there you are. You know now.’

They walked back to the newspaper building, her hand having slipped away from his as they stood up from the bench. At least she could begin to understand now, had a grasp of the awfulness of the situation. But she really didn’t know where they could go from here. He seemed so very far away, trapped in his past. Too many hurts within him. And she was still healing herself. Yes, she was all clear from the cancer. The scars on her breast a reminder of the deeper scars within. But Christ, she was lucky, she had life, a future ahead. Ah sweet Jesus, Ed’s poor wife, his baby – never to grow up, never to have those chances. She felt sick for them, for him.

‘Thank you … for coming to explain.’ They were standing on the threshold to her office, a strange calm between them. ‘I really appreciate that. It couldn’t have been easy.’

‘It was just something I had to do. I didn’t want anyone else hurt, not by a misunderstanding.’ He tried a weak smile. Then took her into his arms and gave her a stiff brotherly hug. ‘No hard feelings.’

‘Of course not.’ She hugged him back, holding him close to her for an extra second. If only things had been different for them both. Then she stood back, giving him the space he needed. ‘Bye, Ed. Take care.’ She turned to climb the steps.

Life could change on the spin of a coin, a cluster of rogue cells, a bend in the road, a patch of black ice.

She knew he wasn’t going to ask to see her again. They had gone as far as they could go. She would only get hurt. She had hoped for more than he could ever give, she understood that now. It was best this way. She stopped and waved from the top step, then watched him walk away. There was a weird ache in her heart. And she knew he had come here to explain, not to love.

23

PJs, popcorn, sofa, movie

A new start in a new flat. She had two evenings left to pack, so much still to do. Another box to fill with remnants of her old life. She had the music on loud, and was stuffing DVDs and her favourite CDs into another square of cardboard – Adele, Coldplay, Keane. The soundtrack to her marriage, her illness, treatment, her separation. She had put The Best of The Stereophonics on as a backing-track to her packing, and ‘Dakota’ was blasting out. The words about summertime and June striking her – and it wasn’t her ex-husband on her mind. All she could think of was Ed and their up-and-down summer of magic moments. What a bloody shame he wasn’t carefree and single. Well, he was technically single, but the past was still burying him. No one had the right to tell him to let go or how to grieve. At least he’d had the guts to come and explain. If Ed wasn’t to be a part of her life, then so be it, however sad that made her feel.

Three more boxes sealed with brown tape. It was only eight p.m. She had the feeling it was going to be a long night, felt the need for some company, so she rang her sister.

‘Hi, Claire. How’s the packing going?’

‘It’s going. Stage by stage.’

‘So you’re getting there.’

‘Yep.’ She tried to sound bright and breezy. But felt awfully tired.

‘Have you got time to break off? We’re just going to watch a movie here, if you fancy joining us. The boys are staying up a bit later as a treat. If you fancy a bit of Transformers, you’re more than welcome. May I add it has Mark Wahlberg in, so that’s a bonus. I’m about to open a bottle of red wine too.’

That did sound good. Cosying up on a sofa with the family. She could pack a couple more boxes when she got back.

‘Okay, I’ll bring the popcorn.’

‘Fab. That’ll please the boys no end.’ It was only a fifteen-minute drive to Sally’s townhouse in Jesmond. She’d stop by the Co-op on the way.

The credits rolled.