Conor’s dad opened a first-aid kit, cleaned up his son’s face, then served us all tea and biscuits in the kitchen. The house was just as clean and tidy as the man who owned it, and it was a surreal experience to see my mother lost for words. Even stranger to hear her apologize.
‘I’m so sorry, I just thought that—’
‘It’s okay, I would have thought the same thing,’ Mr Kennedy said with a polite smile. ‘I was broken after my wife passed away, and I’m sorry for all the things your family had to see. That wasn’t me, at least not the real me. I’m still grieving, but I feel more like myself again now. I’m so grateful for everything that your mother-in-law did for me – and my son – when times were tough. I’ve even started writing about it.’
‘A book?’
‘Maybe. I haven’t decided and I don’t know if it’s good enough yet, but writing about it – the overwhelming grief, the drink, all of it – helps me to process what I became. And if sharing that experience – as awful as it was – might help others to not take the same path, or find a way back if they already have, then maybe . . .’ He turned to Conor. ‘I hope you thanked Mrs Darker for bringing you home?’
‘It’s fine, and I’ve told him to call me Nancy, so you should do the same.’
‘I’ve always liked the name Nancy. Perhaps we could start over? I’m Bradley, it’s good to meet you.’ He held out his hand, and my mother blushed when she shook it.
‘I didn’t know you were a gardener,’ she said, taking a sip of tea, anything to keep her hands busy and out of reach. ‘Maybe you could give me some advice for the little patch of land at the back of Seaglass?’
‘I’d be happy to.’
She blushed again. ‘My mother-in-law was going to invite Conor to visit us on Easter Sunday. My older girls are home from school, and it’s nice for them to spend time with someone their own age. Maybe you could join us too . . . if you’re free?’
‘I’ll check my diary,’ Mr Kennedy said with a straight face.
When he smiled, and my mother realized he was joking, she laughed. I noticed again what a rare sound it was to hear. It was strangely beautiful, just like her.
I might never have gone to school, but I felt like I learned a lot of valuable lessons that day, including that people aren’t always what they appear to be. A middle-aged man with a drinking problem might just be a person poisoned by an all-consuming grief. While a middle-class woman with nice manners and nice things might just be a failed actress who can’t handle being a dress size bigger than she wants to be. Life is a performance, and we don’t all like the scripts we’re given; sometimes it’s best to write your own.
Conor and his dad did visit us at Seaglass that Easter. They wore suits and ties, and brought chocolate eggs for the whole family. Mr Kennedy spent a lot of time out in the garden with Nancy, and we listened to the sound of her laughing all afternoon. Bradley Kennedy never gave up drinking for good, but at that moment in time he seemed to know when to stop, and he never laid a finger on Conor again.
When I look at that picture of the Darker family women on Nana’s mantelpiece now, I remember that Conor took it that Easter, using the Polaroid camera my father had given him. In the photo, Nana is wearing a pink dress and a purple Easter bonnet. Lily, Rose and I are all wearing matching dresses for the first and only time. They are the navy blue velvet ones from Debenhams. Nancy is dressed in one of her Audrey Hepburn ensembles, and she looks very pleased with herself indeed. She is gazing just off camera. I think she was looking at Conor’s dad.
I smile too when I look at the image of her back then, because I was so proud of her for what she did that day, ready to stick up for Conor, no matter what. She was protective of those she cared about. And if she loved something, or someone, she loved them with all her heart.
I just wish she had loved me that way.
My mother might never have fulfilled her ambition of becoming an actress, but at least some of her dreams came true. She had a good life, a nice home and a beautiful family. What happened a few years later was not her fault. Neither is anything that is happening now. Sometimes we have to let go of what we had in order to hold on to what we’ve got.
Twenty-five
31 October 2:45 a.m.
less than four hours until low tide
‘Shouldn’t we at least look for Nancy?’ Lily says, and the rest of us stare at her.
‘It feels safer to me if we all just stay here,’ Rose replies.