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‘Has something happened?’ I say gently.
He sighs. ‘I’ve been having more flashbacks. They’re quite upsetting. I wasn’t going to tell you.’ He rolls his eyes over-dramatically. ‘But it seems I can’t even manage that.’
‘Tell me. It’ll be a good distraction,’ I half-joke.
He’s silent for a moment. ‘The first is just before the crash. It seems Lori’s father was overprotective. He never let her do anything. Her mother was lovely, but she wasn’t strong enough to stand up to him. I – Billy – loved Lori’s defiance of them. There was so much sadness in her life. She’d lost her brother, which is probably why her father was so protective towards her. But she had this fierce determination to break free. The thing between Billy and Lori was almost immediate. They fell in love – two lost souls, both of them used to being alone in the world, neither feeling like they belonged anywhere, until that day they met and discovered this effortless connection.’
I listen intently, uneasy at how real he makes it sound; at the similarities with me and Forrest that go way beyond coincidence.
‘But it had all gone horribly wrong.’ There’s a tremor in his voice. ‘Lori’s father wore her down. She caved in to his demands and told Billy it was over between them. Billy went out to his car. It got ugly, Billy yelling at her father that he didn’t understand; Lori imploring him to stop. Billy got in the Mini…’ Forrest pauses. ‘As he started driving away, Lori opened the door and climbed in next to him. She was pleading with him. And it’s like the other times it’s happened. It felt like Billy was me. She wanted me to slow down. She told me I was scaring her. She wanted to get out.’ He stops, for a moment battling with himself. ‘I ignored her, Marnie. I pressed my foot harder on the accelerator. I was so angry with her. She was upset, too. There were tears in her eyes. She kept begging me to stop. She wanted us to talk…’ He sighs heavily. ‘Want to know what I did? I gripped the steering wheel tighter and put my foot down even harder on the accelerator pedal. We just about made it around the first two bends in the road, but on the third, I lost control. The back end skidded out. I heard Lori scream. She was still screaming as we hit something. Then she stopped. There wasthis awful silence.’ His face is ashen. ‘I was an idiot, driving like that. I should have listened to her. But I didn’t. And I killed her.’ Tears roll down his cheeks.
‘It was an accident. You were hurt,’ I tell him gently. ‘She broke your heart – Billy’s heart.’ I stop myself. I’m talking as though it actually happened, when if I’m honest, I’m not sure what’s going on. But to Forrest, it’s vividly, horribly real. ‘He loved her. He didn’t mean to hurt her. And it isn’t who you are now. You’re not Billy. You’re Forrest.’ I take his hands. ‘Whatever you’re feeling, it’s only a memory – of Billy’s guilt.’
‘I can’t shake it.’ His eyes are filled with angst as he holds my hands tightly. ‘I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you, but I somehow have to get to the bottom of this.’
‘You are so here for me,’ I say gently. ‘You couldn’t do any more than you’re doing.’
‘I know I’ve been distracted.’ He looks troubled. ‘But I haven’t been able to let it go. These flashbacks are so vivid. I need to know if they really happened or not.’ He pauses. ‘It probably sounds mad, but I’m thinking about looking for her grave. For now, though…’ Taking my hands, he sounds calmer. ‘I want to think about you.’
In the craziness of everything, it’s the upside of this rollercoaster I’m stuck on – heart-achingly tender, affirming, life-defining, as his arms go around me and he kisses me. I forget about my illness, the scarf covering my patchy scalp. Instead I spin out each second, savour every moment. When Forrest and I might just as easily never have met, however much time we may have, I know we’re lucky to have this.
23
JACK
Taking a cup of coffee outside, I gaze across the garden taking in the parched lawn, the flowers wilting, the heat omnipresent as I feel sweat trickling down my back. I love the sun, but across the country, crop yields are down and reservoir levels low; most of the country is in desperate need of rain.
Gazing up at the cloudless sky, there’s no sign of it. Instead, the forecast predicts another ten days of the same. I glance across the garden. Even the goats are feeling the heat. As they lie quietly in the shade of a tree, there isn’t a sound from them. I turn towards Gertie’s house, frowning slightly. She’s been quiet, too, which is most unlike her usual way of randomly appearing with loudly voiced opinions. Finishing my coffee, I decide to go and check on her.
Climbing over the fence, I head for the back door. Finding it open, I knock, then step inside into the kitchen. ‘Gertie?’
It’s always felt homely here. The walls are dotted with photos of her family, the windowsills laden with pot plants, logs neatly stacked either side of the solid fuel stove that’s hard work to keep going, but in winter months imbues the cottage with warmth.
A yowl breaks the silence, just as a kerfuffle comes from upstairs before Churchill appears, followed by the sound of Gertie’s footsteps. As she comes into the kitchen, she looks flustered. ‘Jack. What a nice surprise. Is everything OK?’
‘Actually, I came to ask you the exact same question.’ I watch her closely. ‘I haven’t seen you for a while.’
‘Oh, I’ve been sorting out admin rubbish.’ She waves a hand dismissively towards a pile of papers on the ancient kitchen table.
Normally little gets the better of Gertie, so I’m not buying it. ‘Anything I can help with?’
‘No. Thank you – unless you can do something about this infernal heat.’ Picking up an envelope, she fans herself. ‘I didn’t sleep a wink last night.’
‘I have a spare electric fan. I’ll bring it over.’ I study her. ‘Are you sure that’s all it is?’
She makes a show of rolling her eyes. ‘Nothing you need to concern yourself with,’ she says firmly. ‘Just a family matter that needs sorting – only it’s taking longer than I thought it would.’ She shakes her head. ‘People can be very strange, can’t they? Inappropriately possessive, I think you’d say,’ she adds cryptically.
‘I’ll go and get the fan,’ I offer. ‘Be back in a minute.’
Walking home, I’m wondering what it is that’s on her mind. But clearly she doesn’t want to talk about it. Taking the fan back, I plug it in for her and switch it on.
Standing in front of it, Gertie’s relief is visible. ‘You’re a good neighbour – and a good man.’ She pauses. ‘Tell me, Jack. Do you like living here?’
‘It’s my home.’ I frown. But I’ve often thought there’ll come a time when a rambling old cottage and an acre of garden will prove too much for her. Maybe that time is here and she’sthinking of selling. After all, she isn’t getting any younger. ‘You know I love it here. I can’t imagine living anywhere else,’ I add.
‘That’s what I thought.’ She looks slightly calmer.
‘Gertie, if you’re thinking of selling, you mustn’t worry about me. Just say the word and I’ll start looking for somewhere else.’
