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As she looked out to sea, the words of the woman in the church in Venice came back to her, so clear it was if the woman was standing right next to her. ‘Hearts stay broken,’ Flora whispered, her words taken out to sea by the wind.
She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She grabbed it and pulled it out, turning it to see the screen. She stood for a moment as she pulled off her gloves in order to unlock the phone, tapping in the numbers of her wedding anniversary.
The message flashed up from her father. It took her a moment to take it in. She looked at the message again, wanting to make sure she was reading it right. Tears clouded her eyes.
She rang Johnny’s number. He picked up immediately.
‘Have you heard from them?’
‘Yes, Dad’s just texted.’
There was a pause. ‘And what did he say?’
Flora looked down at her boots in the sand, her feet now wet. She hadn’t noticed the waves washing up over her feet.
‘He, um… was found guilty. He’s got eighteen months in prison.’
‘Wow. Are you all right? Where are you?’
‘I’m at the beach, the bit by the old lighthouse.’
‘Are you with anyone?’
‘No, I wanted to come on my own.’ Flora walked back towards the shingle on the beach. ‘I’m going to head back in a bit. I’ll see you at the shop.’
‘Flo, why don’t you go home?’
‘Actually, I think I might go to my parents’. I think I should see them.’
‘Well, it’s up to you. But they will have had a long day, I should think.’
‘I know, which is why I’m thinking I’ll take them some food. Actually, would you mind if I stayed there tonight? I’ll come back first thing in the morning.’
‘Of course, whatever you think. But, Flo, you sure you’re up to driving?’
‘I’m fine, Johnny. I promise. I’ll call you later.’
‘I love you.’
‘I love you, too. Thank you. Tell the kids I’ll see them tomorrow.’
She put her phone back in her pocket and looked out at the vast sky in front of her. She thought of the rainbows in the air as the tears rolled down her cheeks.
31
‘Thank you, Jenny.’ Denise leaned in through the car door.
‘It was the least I could do. I wasn’t going to leave you on your own there now, was I?’
‘Guess I’ve got to get used to the house being empty.’ Denise shrugged. She hadn’t dared herself to think ahead as to what might happen if her son was sent to prison. But she really didn’t think she was going to feel like this. After the shock of the accident and the constant worry of what might happen, the unthinkable had finally come true. Her overwhelming memory of the day was watching Stephen and the back of his head as he was taken out of the courtroom by two police officers. He’d turned and given her a small wave just before he left and then, before she could even wave back, he was gone.
She walked back into the dark, empty flat. She hung her coat on its peg, turned on the hall light and went to the kitchen. She topped up the kettle then stood, watching it boil.
She thought of Mr Sawyer’s words as they’d left the court. Eighteen months didn’t mean eighteen months. It would be more like nine months and the rest on licence with a fair wind behind them, whatever that meant. Denise knew she should have been grateful to know Stephen wouldn’t be in prison for as long as they’d thought, but still, she was devastated. Then her mind turned to the couple she’d passed that morning at court. She’d not taken her eyes off Stephen once they were in the courtroom but part of her knew she hadn’t dared to for fear of meeting theirs. She thought of them sitting there, listening to see what would happen to the man who’d killed their son. Their lives had been shattered because of her own son’s actions. Because he’d been stupid enough to take a stolen car and drive his friends – not that they were really his friends, not one had been anywhere near Stephen since the accident – in the hope of impressing them. In order to fit in. She thought back to him as a little boy, always with his head down, not wanting to draw attention to himself.
What should she have done differently? Was it her fault that he wasn’t strong enough to stand up for himself? Had she loved him enough? Did she love him too much? The same old questions crashed into her head, one after the other, not even bothering to form an orderly queue. They were familiar now. She hadn’t been able to think of anything else for months.
Denise poured hot water into a mug, splashing it onto the kitchen counter as she did. It took a few seconds to register she hadn’t put a teabag in. Leaving the mug on the side, she went to the table by the window. The street below was now quiet. Far away, the sound of a siren made her think of her boy. She closed her eyes, put her hands together and prayed.
