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She scoffed. ‘His heart was already broken. I’ve got the cardiologist’s report to prove it. But you’re right—it was Upton Manor that did it. It was trying to take responsibility for the family without accepting help. Without talking to me. Without being willing to compromise. Because I would have gladly gone years before we did if I’d known how bad things had got. If I’d been able to spare us your dad’s heart attack. Don’t repeat his mistakes, please, Rufus. Why don’t you try sharing the problem? What’s stopping you?’
* * *
Jess flicked through the TV guide, trying to find something in there that would make the hinterland between Christmas and New Year feel slightly less like the Twilight Zone. But it was either a Disney movie or sixties sitcom reruns, neither of which were going to work for her current melancholic state of mind. The initial flurry of excitement when she’d arrived home had fizzled in the twenty-four hours since she’d been back.
Lara had offered to take her straight back to her flat in Oxford, but she wanted to finish the conversation she’d started with her mum on Christmas Day. And it had gone better than she had thought. She’d offered to go to family therapy with her mum and dad. Or grief counselling. Or anything that would crack through the icy silence of her childhood home.
She’d made the error of checking her email. To find the job offer that had been made at the conference waiting for her in writing. If she took it, she’d be working a half-hour drive from Upton Manor. If she wanted to give this thing with Rufus a shot, there was nothing practical stopping her. Nothing at all in her way other than the fear that one day, without warning, her life would descend to the same level of sadness that she was currently soaking in at her parents’ house. She looked up as her mum cleared her throat, standing in the doorframe, coat on and handbag over her shoulder.
‘Will you be all right if we nip out for an hour?’
‘It’s just a broken wrist, Mum. Where are you off to?’
Her dad appeared behind her mum, and Jess didn’t recognise the look that passed between them.
‘We thought about what you said, on the phone, about talking to someone, and we managed to get an appointment. I don’t know if it will...’
Jess launched herself off the sofa and wrapped her mum in a hug. ‘Thank you,’ she mumbled, the words almost lost in her mum’s scarf.
She pulled herself upright and took a deep breath. ‘I’m so happy that you’re doing this,’ she told her parents. ‘And I really, really hope it helps you to be happy.’
Her mum gave an awkward smile. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘that’s all we want for you, too.’
After all these years, they had decided that what they had was still worth fighting for.
She could do that. She could fight. Even if it didn’t work, even if it was too late, she could choose to fight, rather than hide out of fear of failure.
She was left with only one question on her mind—what was the fastest way to get to Yorkshire with only one functional arm? Would Lara drive her three hundred miles north just two days after she’d done the exact same journey in reverse? And then helpfully make herself scarce so that she could have this thing out with Rufus? Was that even what he wanted?
Sure, he had seemed hurt when she’d asked him to leave—but she’d done it because she’d felt him pulling away. So...what? She’d torched the thing to the ground rather than have a grown-up conversation about her feelings. Maybe she was more her parents’ daughter than she thought. But she wasn’t going to accept that she couldn’t change her behaviour. She had a choice about whether she wanted to make her future, or just have it happen to her. And she was going to choose the option that at least had the possibility of Rufus in there.
She was digging in the sofa cushions, looking for her phone to call Lara and ask for the mother of all favours, when she heard her mum talking to someone in the driveway. Probably something that she’d ordered online in the sales, hoping that some retail therapy would fill the new Rufus-shaped hole in her life. She carried on looking for her phone.
‘Jess...’
She spun on the spot, to find that the doorway was filled with Rufus, and she clutched the sofa cushion to her stomach. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked. Was this real? Was he here because he wanted her? Because he wanted to try and make this thing work? Or was it something else?
He did something with his face, and she couldn’t decide whether it was more smile or grimace.
‘Talk to me, Rufus. I’m losing my mind here, imagining things. Did I leave something behind at Upton Manor? Is this a lost property thing?’
‘I... I don’t know what kind of thing this is. Other than a I couldn’t bear waiting another minute to see you thing. Is it okay? That I’m here?’
She was slightly breathless, but she couldn’t quite believe that this was real. She nodded, hesitantly.
‘I’m not sure I should be doing this’ he said. ‘I told myself I shouldn’t be doing this. I don’t know if I can make you happy. If I can keep you that way.’
‘No one can see into the future.’
‘And you’re suddenly okay about that?’
‘No. But my mum and dad just left for marriage counselling. They decided they still want to work at what they have. It’s hard not to be impressed by their example.’
‘And if I mess up? I want to look after you.’
‘I don’t need looking after. And what if I mess up? We work at it, if we think it’s worth it. Do you? Think it’s worth it? Are you willing to try?’
‘You know I am. I’m here.’
