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‘I know you don’t like seeing us,’ I begin. ‘I mean, I know you find it difficult to see me.’
‘Work’s been mad.’ He kicks at the ground but doesn’t look up.
‘I know. I know that. But…’ Now it’s me glancing around: at the damson trees that line our street, where posters once askedHAVE YOU SEEN THIS GIRL?‘I know how difficult it is, that’s all I’m saying. And I know you’re grieving too, I think I realised that tonight, properly. I know you loved her too – that’s all I wanted to say.’
Somehow his gaze unglues itself from his shoes. When he looks at me, it is right into my eyes and it seems that his are full of pain – his, my own. With a jolt, I realise it is the first time he has looked at me, really looked at me, since that day.
‘I did love her,’ he says, his bottom lip trembling, a heart-wrenching sight in such a man. ‘I did,’ he repeats, looking away again. ‘You’ve got to know that.’ Overcome, he covers his eyes with his hand and lets out a gasp of distress.
I reach out, lay the flat of my hand on his arm. It is getting chilly. I have started to tremble. In the papoose, Fred sleeps on, cocooned against my chest.
‘I know you loved her,’ I say softly. ‘I do know that, of course I do. And she adored you. I just haven’t had room to… for anything else. Anyone else. And if I’m honest, I’ve been hurt by how distant you’ve been, but I understand. And I don’t blame you.’
He lets out a cry. ‘Oh God, Ava,’ he says. ‘I’m so sorry. I’ve let you down, I’ve let both of you down. I’ll never forgive myself.’
‘Oh, Neil, come on. It wasn’t your fault. I’m the one who left the door open. It’s my fault. All of it.’ Tears run down my face. I push them away, into my hair, and sniff.
‘Now who’s talking rubbish. It wasn’t your fault, all right? You’ve got to stop beating yourself up about that. It’s killing you, I can see it is.’
He holds out his arms. I lean into him. He pulls me to him in a kind of half-hug. My head falls against his chest, Fred between us. Neil is so much thicker-set than Matt and he feels good: solid. The embrace lasts longer than either of us intend. When we pull apart, he wipes his eyes with the backs of his hands and seems about to walk away, but a moment later, I’m not sure quite how, his forehead is pressed against mine, his hand at the back of my head, keeping me there.
‘I wish I could have brought her back to you,’ he whispers. ‘I’ll never forgive myself.’
‘You did everything you could,’ I whisper back. ‘It’s me who’ll never forgive myself.’
There is a beat, and it is no more than that, when a kiss is a possibility, not a kiss of friendship, nor one of two people caught up in lust for one another. Another kind of kiss, a connection too deep, a moment too intimate for what we are supposed to be to one another. I am certain he feels it too.
He breaks away, breathes out a heavy, shuddering sigh.
‘I’ve been so wrapped up in… everything,’ I rush in. ‘I forgot you and Bella were suffering. I didn’t think about you guys at all, really, and I’m sorry too, for that. But it’s been all I can do to get through. I’m still taking it one day at a time. I didn’t even know the Lovegoods’ daughter had any kind of learning difficulties. Jen’s my next-door neighbour, she’s my friend, for God’s sake, and she’s been so kind to me and I didn’t even… What does that make me? I’m… I’m a monster.’ My eyes fill. I make myself stop.
‘You’re not a monster.’ He takes my hand, rubs his thumb across the back of my knuckles. His skin is rougher than Matt’s, a scratch in the caress, and this too feels dangerous. ‘You’re doing great, Ave. You’ve got to take it one day at a time. And I’m sorry we’ve not been round. Work’s no excuse.’
‘You’ve seen Matt though, haven’t you?’ I take my hand from his. ‘I know he appreciates you getting him to do the triathlon and everything. I suppose it’s hard hooking up like we used to, without Abi there. It’s like there’s a hole that can’t be filled, and none of us have been able to face that. I just wish we knew what happened, you know? That’s the worst thing – the not knowing, hanging over us all the time. I know the evidence points overwhelmingly to her drowning, but with no body… Just the thought of her being taken, being out there… suffering.’ Suffering. All that is contained in that word, all that is unspeakable. ‘And that I’m responsible for that. No one else. Me. How can any mother ever get over that?’
‘Ava, please.’ He tries to take my hand again, but I snatch it away.
‘No, Neil, it’s true. I wish I’d never had Fred. I wish I hadn’t been pregnant. I never would have had another child, never. And I can’t tell anyone how I feel because it’s too awful. I haven’t even told my counsellor, but the truth is, I don’t deserve a baby. I’m not a good enough mother. I’m not safe.’ I am weeping, and the fact of it shocks me. I have spent a year avoiding Neil, barely speaking to him, and now, now I can’t stop the rush of words, of tears, pouring all over him, things I have never said out loud, have barely dared think. We are friends become strangers become friends again – almost more – crying together on the street. This is what we have needed to do, all this time. We have both known it. But it has been too frightening.
‘You’ve been strong,’ he says eventually. ‘You have. I know you think you haven’t, but you have. And I can understand you want to believe Abi’s still alive, but…’
‘Matt’s the strong one,’ I say, not taking on board what I know he’s leading up to, what everyone wants me to accept. ‘Can’t even admit to using the last tea bag, never thought he’d be the rock for us both.’
‘You mean the absolute world to him– you know that, don’t you? He’d never leave you. He’d do anything to keep hold of you, I mean.’ Now that Matt is front and centre of the conversation, I feel the danger passing, am unsure whether it was really there.
‘I don’t know, Nee. I’m horrible to him, just horrible, a lot of the time. If I were him, I’d leave me. God knows, I’m a misery. A misery that can’t be trusted.’
Neil puffs his cheeks and blows out a long blast of air. ‘You’re killing me, Ave. You can’t keep saying this stuff. It isn’t like you think. It’s not your fault, trust me, Iknowit wasn’t.’
‘What?’ I wipe my face, meet his pale-blue eyes. My guts have folded over. ‘What do you mean? What do you know?’
He shakes his head. ‘Nothing. Forget I said it.’
‘Neil. What do you know? If you know something, you have to tell me. You owe me that. Please, Neil. How do you know it wasn’t my fault?’
‘You…’ His face crumples.
‘Neil! Please! I’ll beg you if I have to. I’ll go down on my knees.’
