Andrew shivered, cleared his throat. ‘Jason was our wonderful child. A young man with everything ahead of him. And we will never come to terms with losing him.’ He faltered, focused on Jason giggling; Jason strumming his guitar; Jason scuffing his feet on the ground, his laces trailing; Jason bent over a map, drawing shark fins in the sea. ‘Nothing can bring Jason back,’ Andrew said, ‘but the people who took him from us have been caught and convicted. For that we are grateful. He will live forever in our hearts.’
Mr Sweeney introduced Ruby, and there was another battery of flashes as the photographers set to work. Ruby raised her piece of paper and read: ‘I miss my brother Luke every day. Sometimes you don’t know how important a person is until they are gone. Luke is still in a coma; he will probably never wake up. I’m glad the people who did it will be punished, but I wish it had never happened. I wish he was still here, and all right. I love him so much – and my mum. And I want to say thank you to Jason, who tried to protect Luke, and I’m sorry that he lost his life trying to help.’
Val had her eyes cast down, hiding from the sentiments, Andrew guessed. He sniffed hard and focused on the trees that edged the square, the leaves beginning to turn. Mr Sweeney thanked the press, shook hands with the families again, and the group began to split up.
‘What would you say to other people, Mr Barnes?’ one of the reporters shouted. ‘Should they have a go or walk away?’ The question hung in the air, echoing round the square as Andrew and Val, their family and Louise and Ruby walked down the steps and through the crowd.
Emma
Emma rang her mum that evening. ‘Did you see the news?’ she asked her.
‘Of course,’ her mum said. ‘They got what they deserved. A case like that, you wish they’d bring back the death penalty.’
Emma gritted her teeth, closed her eyes. As if more killing would make anything better.
‘What train are you getting on Friday?’ her mum said.
Emma’s mouth went dry. ‘I’m not coming.’
‘Why? What’s happened?’
‘It’s Dad. I’m sick of him making nasty comments.’ Emma got to her feet, walked to the window. There was a train pulling in. She turned back into the room.
‘Oh Emma, it’s just his way,’ her mum wheedled.
‘Listen to me,’ she said, ‘please. I’m not going to put up with it any more.’ Her skin felt peculiar, like it was covered in a prickly mesh. Her heart was running fast.
‘It’s only-’
‘Let me talk!’ she shouted. There was a shocked silence at the other end of the phone. ‘I don’t want to see him again. Ever. I don’t want to hear from him or about him.’ Her voice shook, but she kept going. ‘I’d love to see you, Mum, but I’m not coming to the house. Not when he’s there.’
‘That’s ridiculous, Emma,’ her mother snapped.
‘We can meet in town sometime, or you can come here, but I mean it, Mum.’ Emma quelled the fear and the tears that brimmed just below the surface. She had hoped stupidly that her mum might understand, might even have some sympathy.
‘You’re upset,’ her mum cajoled.
‘Yes, and he’s the reason why. I don’t want him in my life.’ She was trembling, her breath hard to catch. She imagined him ranting at her, dragging her home and making her feel sick and stupid.
‘He’s your father, Emma.’
‘I mean it, Mum. I’m going now.’
‘Well what shall I tell him?’ Her mother’s voice rose, shrill with exasperation.
‘Whatever you like,’ Emma said. ‘Bye.’ She set down her phone, then ran around the room making mewling noises, half petrified and half elated. Waving her hands at her sides.
After she’d calmed down a bit, she fed the fish and had a Thai green curry ready-meal. And a bowl of rice pudding. Then she texted Laura and Simon: Anything on @ weekend? Letz party.
And she sang in the shower.
Andrew
Andrew slept well that night. When he woke, Val’s side of the bed was empty. There was a calm within him, reminding him of the sensation after a long hill walk, or an arduous journey: the feeling of achievement, the respite of reaching the final destination. An ordeal completed and the body and mind able to let go.
He showered and dressed. Downstairs he made coffee and toast and took it into the conservatory. He wondered where Val was. Perhaps she’d gone shopping; perhaps the conclusion of the trial, the landmark of the verdict, had released her from the worst of her depression and she had made a new start. Maybe she was out there, busy, practical. The old Val was coming back.
The day was washed in gold. Outside, wasps and hornets hovered among the flowers. He should start some winter crops in the polytunnels. A day doing something relaxing before going back to work.
He heard the door bang, and called out, ‘I’m in here.’
His good mood shrivelled when he saw her: she looked beaten down, weakened. ‘Would you like coffee?’ he asked her. ‘Some toast?’
She hesitated, then said, ‘Coffee.’ She sat on one of the wicker sofas.
‘Where’ve you been?’
‘To get my prescription,’ she said.
‘Right.’
When he returned with their drinks, she was looking out of the windows, her fingers encircling her wrist like a bracelet, twisting to and fro.
‘Coffee,’ he said, setting it down.
She turned, and he saw that her face was streaked with tears. He felt a punch to his guts. ‘Val?’ He sat beside her. ‘What is it?’
‘I can’t do it, Andrew. I can’t go on like this.’
His chest felt tight, his heart swollen. ‘Hey, it’ll be all right. You’ll get better and we’ll find a way…’
She shook her head.
‘We have to try,’ he said. ‘We can’t just give up. That’s not you, not the real you.’
She gave a shivery breath, put her hands over her face and rocked forward.
‘It’s hard to know where to start,’ he said, his throat dry, ‘and maybe we need help. After all we’ve been through, it’s no wonder, is it?’
Outside, a butterfly, a small white, danced over the fence. Not a moth. Why were butterflies all right but moths so scary?
‘I can’t,’ she said. She lifted her hands and held them as if in prayer, fingers steepled against her lips.
He was lost again; he had to find his way back, make her see sense. ‘I love you, Val, that’s all that matters. I love you and we’ll make it work. It might not be easy, but I’m here.’
She looked at him, her nose reddening, eyes spilling tears, her mouth drawn back in anguish. ‘I don’t know what I feel any more,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’ She cried helplessly. ‘I think we need some time apart.’
He felt something plummet inside him; vertigo was darkening his vision, filling his head with bees. ‘Val, no,’ he managed.
She swept at her tears and spoke on, the words coming at him in small bites. ‘Sheena’s got space. I just need some time.’
‘Why?’ He couldn’t understand. He needed her here. They had made it this far; they had to stick together now. Rebuild their lives. ‘Is this because of Jason?’
‘No. I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Anger and panic were swirling within him. ‘Don’t go.’ He looked at her, his eyes blurring. She might never come back. Didn’t she love him any more?
‘Oh Val,’ he said. And then they were embracing and weeping and he felt the future trickling through his fingers, evaporating, changing. The course tilting and altered, the route obscured. He kept hugging her – what else was there to do – until their breathing settled and the tears dried, salt on their cheeks.
EPILOGUE
‘Another?’ Louise raised the bottle, and Andrew nodded.
‘Are we getting drunk?’
‘Speak for yourself,’ Louise said as she poured the wine. ‘I can hold my liquor.’ She spilt some, and he laughed.