It was the same church where we’d held my dad’s funeral. I’d hated the sight of it that day; hated its huge, gaping mouth as it swallowed up mourners, hated its blackened, sky-stabbing shard of a spire, and hated, hated, hated the way it seemed to be taking my dad away from me. Today, as it prepared to take my nana too, it seemed even more monstrous.
‘You can do this,’ Jack whispered as we made our way to the door. The gentle pressure of his hand in mine gave me strength.
One person I was feeling especially nervous about seeing again was my Aunty Julia, who I’d already spotted in her wheelchair by the door, greeting mourners. With the perspective of time and distance, my anger towards her had long dissipated, and what I mainly felt now was guilt about the worry I must’ve caused the day I’d run away.
Another was my mum. I knew she’d be inside, on the watch for me.
But the encounter really giving me stomach cramps as I approached the church was Ethan. After what had happened last time I’d seen him, the anger and desperation in his voice as he’d commanded me to turn back, plus what Laurel had told me about his mental state, I was seriously worried about what he might do.
I’d been studying for my GCSEs when Ethan had first shown up in my life: twenty-four, drop-dead gorgeous, a more than welcome distraction from revision. We’d been the gossip of my year group – Kitty’s fit older boyfriend, with his fancy car and his well-paid job. He plays in a band, you know. He drives an Audi. He wears Bench. Oh yes, on the surface he was every sixteen-year-old’s dream man.
I’d loved the attention, back then; the feeling of specialness at having been chosen by someone who could easily have their pick. I’d loved Ethan too, for the best part of a decade – well, no, not love exactly. What I’d felt for Ethan had been more like… worship. I’d given him my virginity, my trust, my money; my life, when it came right down to it. Yet in just four months, every shred of that love had evaporated.
I knew now that my feelings for Jack, muddied as they were by his problems and mine and still mere months old, were ten times more real than anything I’d ever felt for Ethan. Yes, I’d loved him: blindly, and with a schoolgirl’s unhealthy fascination, long after I’d stopped being a schoolgirl. But we’d never been friends. We’d hardly ever laughed together, or shared a hobby. The time I’d spent with Jack had opened my eyes to the fact relationships shouldn’t be like that.
All this, I knew, needed to be said at some point. There’d be no picking up where we left off, no reconciliation, whether or not Ethan had been unfaithful. I’d said it the last time I’d seen him and it still held firm: I wanted a divorce. And I was planning to tell him that, along with a few other home truths.
But first things first. Aunty Julia. I had to make things up with Aunty Julia.
‘Is that her?’ Jack whispered as we approached the church.
‘That’s her,’ I said. ‘Be lovely, won’t you? It’s important to me that she likes you. Do that charm thing you do.’
‘Right.’ He looked bemused. ‘Er, what charm thing is that?’
‘You know, where you smile and flutter your eyelashes and talk all Irishy.’
‘“All Irishy”? That’s just my voice.’
‘Yeah, it works though.’ I stopped to straighten his tie for him before we reached the church. He poked out his chin awkwardly while I got it just right. ‘There you go, handsome,’ I said, patting his cheek. ‘Now we’re ready.’
I fixed on a nervous smile for Aunty Julia as we made our way up the ramp to the door. Jack hung back to let us talk.
‘Kitty! My goodness, you nearly scared the life out of me!’ she gasped when she registered who it was. Obviously Mum hadn’t filled her in on the fact I’d come home. ‘Is it really you?’
‘It’s really me. Hi, Aunty J. Um. Missed you.’
‘Oh, my dear, you’re a sight for sore eyes, you really are. Give me a hug this instant.’
I let myself relax, crouching to embrace her. I’d been so worried she’d be angry with me.
‘I’m so glad you’re safe,’ she whispered. ‘You don’t know how often I’ve blamed myself for you disappearing like that. I’m sorry, Kitty, I truly, truly am.’
I felt a stab of guilt. Aunty Julia had just lost her mum, fast following the death of her only brother last year, and here she was, apologising to the only blood relation she had left: the selfish errant niece who’d done a runner from her house and never got in touch. The niece who by rights should be on her knees begging for forgiveness.
‘No, I’m sorry,’ I said when she’d released me from the hug. ‘It was my fault, I should never have gone off like that. But honestly, Aunty, if you knew what I—’
I stopped myself. If you knew what I’d seen, I’d been about to say. Except I still didn’t know what exactly that was.
‘I wasn’t thinking straight,’ I said at last. ‘I never meant to frighten you. I just… I couldn’t go home. Not then.’
‘I should have respected what you said you needed, when you asked me not to call your mother. I was scared, that’s all.’ She shook her head. ‘You looked so frantic. After what happened when Grant died, I really thought you were – you know, having another episode.’
‘Not sure I wasn’t,’ I muttered, half to myself.
‘Where did you go, Kitty? We’ve been searching high and low for you. No one seemed to know a thing about where you were.’ She scanned me up and down. ‘You look well anyway, dear. Who is it you’ve been staying with? A friend, I hope?
I blushed, and beckoned Jack forward from where he was waiting a polite distance away.
‘This is Jack,’ I told Aunty Julia. ‘He’s, er, my… he’s Jack.’
Aunty Julia blinked up at him. ‘Oh.’
Jack dropped to his haunches to bring himself level and smiled. It was a good smile, one of his irresistible specials, but Aunty Julia was no soft touch when it came to men. She kept her expression fixed.
‘Hello, Mrs Blake,’ he said, voice dripping Irish charm as requested. ‘Kitty’s told me all about you.’
‘Oh,’ Aunty Julia said again. Between ‘ohs’, her lips pressed into a thin line.
‘Jack gave me a job,’ I told her. ‘As his PA. He writes children’s books.’
‘Did he now?’ She was scanning Jack suspiciously, but he didn’t let the smile drop.
‘That’s right.’ Jack shot me a fond glance. ‘Kitty’s a natural at organising my marketing, press, everything like that. I don’t know how I managed before I had her.’
‘Before you had her…’
It was obvious Aunty Julia didn’t like the suggestion under those words. But there was no time to go into it further. A couple of mourners behind us, old friends from Nana’s WI, were waiting to offer her their condolences.
‘We’ll talk later,’ I said, kissing her and standing up again. ‘I’m sorry, Aunty Julia.’
‘I told you, Kitty, you don’t have to apologise. I’m just glad you’re safe.’
‘No, I mean I’m sorry.’ I blinked back a tear. ‘About your mum.’
‘I’m not,’ she said in a low voice, casting her eyes down to the hands playing nervously in her lap.
‘What?’
‘I’m sad, of course I am,’ she said. ‘But honestly? I can’t help feeling relieved too. Relieved that she still had most of her wits about her, rather than having to watch that evil disease take her away from me piece by piece. That it was peaceful right at the last.’ She looked up at us, her eyes wet. ‘It’s an awful thing to lose your parent. But it’s worse to watch them die. Is that a really terrible thing to say?’
Jack seemed to understand. He reached out to squeeze her shoulder.
‘It’s not terrible at all,’ he said gently. ‘Not at all.’
‘Thank you… Jack.’
The two shared a bittersweet moment, and she smiled at him, a real smile, as we passed her to go into the church.
Inside, I scanned the pews. Mum was sitting near the front, in a sober but tasteful black twinset I knew she’d have bought specially. She looked round when we entered, and for a second I thought she was going to come over, but she restrained herself. She’d dread a public scene above all things, especially in church, that bastion of English country civility, and I could see from the look she shot him that she’d guessed who Jack was and hadn’t forgotten him swearing at her over the phone.
Ethan was less restrained. He was swivelled round on his pew, his grey eyes trained on the door.
Laurel had warned me he’d changed, and I’d been prepared for a difference since the last time I’d seen him. I thought he might be a bit more sober; a bit more puppydog. Still, I’d been convinced in the back of my mind that she’d been exaggerating.
She hadn’t been exaggerating. The change hit me like a stack of dynamite.
A covering of stubble that was fast becoming a full beard blanketed his jaw, and his face was white – not even pale but white, stark against red-rimmed eyes. He’d lost weight too. His best designer suit hung off him like next year’s school uniform. I fought back a vicious hankering to pity the man.
‘Don’t let him get under your skin,’ Jack muttered as Ethan jumped up from his pew and made a beeline for us. ‘Don’t let him make himself the victim here. You know he’ll try.’
‘He looks awful, Jack. I’ve never seen him—’ I broke off as Ethan reached us.
‘Kitty, oh my God! You’re here, you’re really…’ Ethan grabbed my hands. He looked so ecstatic to see me, I actually felt guilty.
Mentally, I gave myself a slap. I’d spent months trying to cure myself of that type of learned response, I couldn’t afford to let myself slip back into it now.
‘I mean, I knew you’d come back one day,’ Ethan said. ‘But now it’s happened… honestly, I can hardly believe it.’ He squeezed my hands tight, like a man desperate to reassure himself I was flesh and not dream.
He looked so sincere, so full of genuine joy, I almost found myself softening. But then I remembered the last time I’d seen him. The money – all my money. The way he’d chased me down the street, screaming for me to come back.
I yanked my hands away.
‘I haven’t come back for good,’ I said in a quiet voice. ‘I’ve come to say goodbye to my nan, that’s all. I’m not here for anyone but her.’
He was still staring at me, the expression in his red-rimmed eyes somewhere between ecstasy, desperation and fear. I honestly thought he might be about to burst into tears. Ethan, who in ten years I’d never seen cry.
‘No. No, I know, it’s just I thought I might never see you again,’ he said, not dropping his gaze. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere. Oh, Kitty, darling!’ he burst out suddenly. ‘I’m so glad you’re safe. When you went off with him, I really thought you might be in danger.’ He threw his arms around me, then instantly dropped them, looking confused. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean… I’ve been worried about you, that’s all.’
He seemed genuinely moved. But… oh yes, I remembered. The echo of his words as he’d chased me. You’re my fucking wife, Kitty! Mine, you hear me?
Possession. Not love. Jack was right, that was all it had ever been about to him.
‘This isn’t the place for a conversation, Ethan,’ I muttered, casting a nervous look at a gaggle of disapproving mourners who were glaring at us. ‘We’re in church. Let’s talk after.’
‘Whatever you want, Kitty. We can talk at the wake.’ He shot a dirty look at Jack, waiting respectfully for us to finish our conversation but with an expression that said he was alert for trouble. ‘Are you bringing him?’
‘As long as he wants to come.’
Jack nodded. ‘While she wants me with her, I go where Kitty goes.’
Ethan stared resentfully at him, then turned back to me. ‘But Kitty, what’s he—’
He broke off at the sound of a throat clearing, and we turned to find a very irritated vicar with his arms folded.
‘Could you take your seats, please? We’re about to start the service.’ He shot a pointed look at Ethan. ‘And if you could perhaps moderate your excitement while we’re saying goodbye to your loved one, sir, that would be greatly appreciated. Please remember this is a place of worship.’
Ethan stood glaring at Jack and for a second I thought it was about to go a bit Wrestlemania, right there over the hymn book table.
‘Okay,’ he said at last. ‘But here, Kitty, take this before you go. A first instalment. And I will pay it all back, I swear. Every penny.’ He pressed something into my hand. ‘See you after.’
He gave me a quick nod, and without another word he stalked back to his seat.
I glanced down at what was crumpled in my hand and blinked in shock. It was a cheque. For £2000.
‘Bloody hell,’ I muttered to Jack. ‘What’s this for?’
Jack took my hand and led me to a pew at the back of the church.
‘It’s a trick,’ he muttered as we took our seats. ‘It has to be. Don’t fall for it, Kit.’
‘But… he can’t really be paying me back?’ I blinked at the cheque. ‘This is genuine. Real money. Why would he do that? Last time I saw him he was flat broke.’
Jack almost snorted, but managed to restrain himself.
‘Real money, all right. Real money that was always yours,’ he whispered. ‘Too little, too late, isn’t it? Does he really think he can win you back by doling out petty cash from your own earnings?’
I stared at it. Three big, fat zeroes…
‘Maybe he does genuinely feel bad,’ I said. ‘Now he’s had time to think about it. He certainly looks like he’s lost a bit of sleep.’
‘Yeah, and maybe A Christmas Carol was a true story.’ Jack shook his head. ‘Men like him don’t change, Kit. That mindset, that entitlement… it runs deep. You can smell it.’
‘I’m not saying I’d ever forgive him. I’d certainly never go back to him. But if he really wants to make it up to me—’
‘We’ll talk about it after.’ Jack nodded to the vicar, clearing his voice in the pulpit. ‘Right now it’s time to say goodbye.’
‘Yes.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Yes. This is for Nana.’
Sunshine streamed through the stained glass, bathing the old church in luminescent seagulls of pink and green. The organ played Amazing Grace. And the box bearing the body that used to be my nan made its way slowly to the front of the church.