I try to unlock the memory, paint detail where there is just a muted outline, but it is too far away and I cannot make it more distinct. ‘How old was he?’
‘Four months.’
A crater opens up in my chest. And then my grief seems to spill over, and I start to cry, cannot stop, dare not stop, because if I stop the world will be quiet again, and I will have to face the enormity of what has happened. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? You should have told me.’ The words burn in my throat, splutter through hot tears.
I’m aware of Stephen wrapping his arms around me, enfolding my body in his, clasping me tight. He holds on to me, my shoulders shuddering as he rocks me back and forth, whispering the same words over and over: ‘I’m sorry, my love. I’m so, so sorry.’
LIVVY
BRISTOL
Livvy carried the last of the shopping bags inside the house, secured Leo in his activity chair, turning it on so that the lights flashed. She watched as he began pushing buttons with chubby, uncoordinated fingers.
‘I’ll just put the shopping away, angel. I won’t be long.’
Heading down to the basement kitchen, she unpacked the week’s food. Her phone pinged and she fished it out from the bottom of her handbag. Opening Gmail, she found a message from Aisha.
Hi Livvy
I’ve spoken to HR and everything’s sorted – there’s no need to return any of your maternity pay. Like Christian said, we’re just really sorry to see you go.
We’d love to arrange a proper send-off. Would you like to pop into the office one afternoon for team prosecco and cake? Or we could do a meal one evening if childcare isn’t an issue? Just let me know what suits. And let’s make sure you and I grab a coffee before we both head off. I know you’ve already got some irons in the fire, but I’ve put out some feelers with friends in London, so I should have some leads in the next week or so.
Speak soon,
Aisha x
It had been over two weeks since she’d agreed to move to London, and yet even now when she thought about it, there was a sense of unreality to it. But tenants had been found for their house, a deposit paid, a moving date set. Livvy had handed in her resignation at work, sent her CV to other environmental lobby groups in London, received more encouraging responses. Dominic had been investigating areas in London where they might rent, and Livvy had suggested leaving Leo with her parents one Saturday so they could house-hunt together. But Dominic had insisted he wanted to do it alone: ‘I’m the one who’s precipitated this move, I’m the one who should do all the legwork to make it happen.’
Putting the last of the shopping in the fridge, she heard a knock at the front door. Running up the basement stairs, she passed Leo in the sitting room, reassured him she’d be back in a second.
Opening the door, a stone sank deep into the pit of Livvy’s stomach. ‘What are you doing here?’
Less than two feet away, Imogen stood on the garden path, holding out a small square box. ‘I wondered if you could give this to Dominic?’
The box hovered in the air, Livvy’s hands remaining firmly by her sides. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s John’s watch. He wanted Dominic to have it.’
Livvy looked down at the box, then back up at Imogen, felt as though she had opened the door on a different version of reality. ‘I don’t think that’s appropriate.’
‘Please. I would have posted it, but I was worried it might get lost. John so wanted Dominic to have it.’
Imogen’s voice was replete with emotion, and Livvy felt as though she were negotiating her way through a hall of mirrors, each image more distorted than the last.
‘I can’t take it from you. I’m sorry.’
Imogen stared at her as though Livvy had spoken in tongues. ‘But you have to. John wanted Dominic to have it.’
‘I don’t think Dominic will want it.’ The words felt harsh in Livvy’s mouth, but she didn’t know what else to say to make Imogen understand.
Imogen dropped her arm by her side. ‘I know John and Dominic didn’t always see eye to eye, but I never imagined he’d still be so angry, even after John’s death.’ Imogen swallowed hard, and Livvy could see she was on the brink of tears.
Stifling her frustration, Livvy smoothed out the edges in her voice. ‘It’s very difficult for Dominic, as I’m sure you can understand, after all that’s happened.’
There was a fractional nod of Imogen’s head. ‘I know he’s resentful about a lot of things, but I wish he could have forgiven John at the end. It all just feels so . . . unnecessary.’
A wave of disbelief destabilised Livvy for a moment. She wondered if Imogen’s naivety was a symptom of grief, but then she recalled everything Dominic had told her and suspected his mother had always been this way. ‘I don’t think that was ever going to happen.’
From inside the house, Leo cried out, sharp and urgent.
‘Is Leo okay?’ Imogen’s forehead creased into a concerned frown.
Livvy didn’t reply, ran back inside to check on her son, discovered he had simply dropped his toy caterpillar on the floor.
When she turned around, Imogen was standing just behind her, eyes fixed on Leo.
Something inside Livvy snapped. ‘You need to leave.’
Imogen didn’t move.
‘Imogen, you have to leave.’
Livvy’s voice was firm, resolute, but still Imogen didn’t move. Scenes flashed through Livvy’s mind like a speeded-up film: having to manhandle her septuagenarian mother-in-law out of the house, having to call the police if she refused to go, having to explain to Dominic why she’d neglected to tell him about the text and the phone call. ‘Imogen, you shouldn’t be in here.’ She kept her voice low, steady, in spite of her racing pulse.
‘He looks so much like Dominic.’ Imogen spoke in a quiet voice, as though hypnotised.
Livvy glanced down to where Leo was pressing light-up buttons on his activity chair, oblivious to the stranger in their midst and to the tension she had brought with her into the room.
‘Can I hold him?’
Livvy stared at her, incredulous. ‘No. You need to leave.’ She placed a hand on Imogen’s arm, tried to steer her towards the door, but Imogen flinched as though Livvy’s fingertips were made of fire.
‘Please let me hold him, just for a moment.’ She looked at Livvy with something close to desperation.
Panic knocked against Livvy’s ribs, her thoughts groping in the dark for a solution. ‘Not today. But how about I talk to Dominic, see if maybe we can work something out?’ The deceit felt spiky on her tongue.
‘Will you really?’
Livvy sensed a glimmer of opportunity, nodded, returned her hand to Imogen’s arm. ‘But now I have to make Leo’s dinner. I really do need to get on.’ She steered Imogen towards the door, felt the older woman’s resistance begin to wane.
They got as far as the hallway before Imogen stopped, looked back over her shoulder. ‘He really is beautiful. And he does look uncannily like Dominic at that age.’ She spoke as if in a trance, and Livvy had to press her hand further into Imogen’s blue blazer, shepherd her out through the open front door.