Chapter Thirteen

She was treading on delicate ground, Andrea knew, venturing to ask David why there were no photographs of his wife around the house; suggesting that Jake might need there to be. That he needed to hold on to his memories of his mother, rather than thinking he should consign her to history, as David seemed to have done; at least in Jake’s mind.

David didn’t answer at first. Hands thrust deep in his pockets, he distractedly studied the fireplace instead. ‘I think I’ll ask the landlord if I can strip it back; restore it rather than have it ripped out,’ he said, nodding at the mahogany surround.

Sensing he needed some time, Andrea followed his gaze. He was right. It was beautiful. Original antique Edwardian, she guessed; a striking piece of furniture in itself.

David removed a hand from his pocket and dragged it slowly over his neck. ‘I’m not sure why I didn’t display the photographs,’ he said eventually.

‘Because you thought they’d be too painful a reminder for Jake?’

‘To be honest, I wasn’t sure.’ He paused contemplatively. ‘I knew he needed to think about her, talk about her, but if he wouldn’t talk to me … I suppose I thought Jake might think I was being hypocritical, pretending to miss her. To care, when I …’ he trailed off, glancing briefly at Andrea, and then away.

‘You do miss her though.’

David swallowed. ‘Every day.’

‘You obviously cared about her a great deal,’ Andrea probed gently.

David closed his eyes. ‘I just couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. Wasn’t man enough to support the decision she’d made, once she was diagnosed. Acute leukaemia. What were the chances?’ He shrugged hopelessly. ‘There wasn’t anything I could do about it. Nothing. I’m supposed to be a doctor and I couldn’t do a damn thing.’

Swallowing again, he glanced at the ceiling, obviously trying to contain his emotions, so much like the little boy upstairs, who was so like his father. Andrea felt like weeping for him. She wished she could reach out to him. Penetrate the brick wall he seemed to have built around himself. But, as yet, she guessed, it was strictly no trespassing allowed.

‘I knew, of course, what the chances were,’ David continued, though it was obviously painful for him, ‘one in every one hundred thousand. What I didn’t know, will never understand, was why Michelle.’

‘I’m so sorry, David.’ Not knowing what else to say, Andrea offered him the standard words of condolence, which sounded inadequate, even to her own ears.

‘Me, too. More than anyone can know,’ David said quietly. ‘I wasn’t able to accept it,’ he went on, tugging in a tight breath, ‘the diagnosis, Michelle’s subsequent decision to delay treatment. Anti-leukaemic drugs might not ultimately save her, she’d known that. But she could save the life of her unborn child. That was her goal.’ He stopped again.

Andrea waited.

‘And my response to her braveness?’ David laughed bitterly. ‘I ran away. Found any reason I could to stay late at the surgery. I wasn’t there. When she needed me, I was …’

‘With someone else?’ Andrea finished as he trailed awkwardly off.

David nodded wearily. ‘A colleague,’ he admitted, sounding as if the words might choke him. ‘It only happened once, not that that makes it any more forgivable. Michelle and I argued, not surprisingly. Michelle turned to a friend, a friend who was also a neighbour, as it happened. Pretty soon, it seemed everyone knew our business, neighbours, acquaintances, friends; Jake’s friends.’

Andrea nodded, understanding. ‘Children can be brutal sometimes.’

‘Can’t they just.’ David kneaded the back of his neck. ‘We split, as you can imagine. Michelle’s decision, not mine. Who could blame her? She tried to reach me … when she realised … she was losing the baby. She tried to get hold of me. She couldn’t. I wasn’t with anyone, not then,’ he added, glancing quickly at Andrea again. ‘I was on call. So, Michelle being Michelle, she drove herself to the hospital. She … never arrived.’

‘Oh, no, David.’ Now she understood, his abruptness, his obvious anger. The guilt he seemed to carry around. But whatever the circumstances, whatever the reasons, if guilt were his punishment then hadn’t he been punished enough?

‘Jake would be right, wouldn’t he?’ David continued throatily. ‘Hypocritical is exactly what it would be to stand a photograph on the shelf of the woman I deserted.’

He dropped his gaze, pinching the bridge of his nose hard with his thumb and forefinger.

Andrea hesitated for a second, and then reached out to risk a hand on his arm. ‘Talk to him, David.’

David looked up at last, pain etched into his features, his very soul, it seemed.

Andrea offered him an encouraging smile. ‘Yes, children can be brutal, but they do understand much more than we sometimes give them credit for.’

With some effort, David smiled back. ‘Thanks. I’ll try,’ he promised. ‘Not sure he’ll want to listen, but I’ll try.’

‘Good.’ Andrea gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, which prompted a loud cough from the doorway.

‘Jonathan! You almost gave me a heart attack,’ Andrea admonished him, stepping away from David. ‘I didn’t see you there.’

‘Obviously,’ Jonathan remarked deadpan. ‘Sorry to interrupt. Sophie let me in. In case you wonder, she’s taken Chloe to the park and Dee’s tagged along, too. I didn’t want you to panic, thinking she might have wandered off.’

‘Oh, right.’ Andrea nodded. ‘Thanks, Jonathan. I’ve been a bit too busy to keep tabs on—’

‘So I see,’ Jonathan interrupted, pointedly. ‘Do you think we could have a chat, Andrea? When it’s convenient?’

Andrea frowned. ‘Yes, yes of course. I, um …’ She glanced at David.

David glanced uncomfortably back. ‘I’ll go upstairs and check on the boys,’ he said, giving Jonathan a polite nod as he left.