Chapter Fourteen

‘Go and “check on the boys”?’ Jonathan snorted derisively, once David had left. ‘Well, well, looks like you’ve all become one big happy family in my absence.’

‘What?’ Andrea almost laughed. Was he serious?

Obviously, he was. She noted the look in his eye, which could easily outdo Chloe in the truculence department. ‘Jonathan, what on earth are you talking about?’ she asked, not quite able to believe he would be so paltry. ‘David has very kindly allowed us the use of his house and we’re all trying to get along as best we can. Do you have a problem with that?’

‘No.’ Jonathan shrugged moodily. ‘It’s just that David and you seemed to be getting along very well, that’s all.’

Andrea’s mouth dropped open. ‘What?’

‘The conversation you were having,’ Jonathan looked her over accusingly, ‘it looked very cosy from where I was standing.’

Yes, and how long had he been standing there? More to the point, why? And why this silly display of ruffled feathers? Wasn’t there enough to be worrying about?

‘We were talking, Jonathan. It’s what people in close proximity generally do.’

‘Yes, and it looked like a very intimate conversation to me. You were practically holding his hand.’

‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous,’ Andrea snapped. She couldn’t help herself. He obviously hadn’t heard the whole conversation or he might be a little more understanding. In truth, she felt like bursting into tears. She was tired. Exhausted, in fact. And so very broken-hearted. She hadn’t even found the courage to go over to her house yet, for fear of falling apart. She didn’t want this. She wanted Jonathan to be strong and supportive, not petty and accusatory, however needy that might make her. She felt needy.

‘Me, ridiculous?’ Jonathan gawked incredulously. ‘I’d say ridiculous is playing dress up and getting up close to David when our house has burned to the ground, wouldn’t you?’

Andrea opened her mouth, and closed it again. He obviously hadn’t left when she’d thought he had. Instead, he’d been loitering outside the lounge then, too. And, clearly, his nose was out of joint because she’d apparently been enjoying herself in the company of another man, while he, poor soul, was walking around with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Unbelievable. She stared at Jonathan, utterly speechless. ‘Up close?’ she spluttered, after a second. ‘You really are serious, aren’t you? Well, as it happens, David and I have become better acquainted, since it was David who helped the kids and Mum to safety, and then took us all in – in your absence.’

Her temper close to breaking point, Andrea eyeballed Jonathan angrily. ‘If not for David, Jonathan, you might not have had a family to come back to. Did that thought occur to you?’

Jonathan studied her for a second and then nodded, shamefaced. ‘Yes, of course it did.’ He took a step towards her. ‘Look, Andrea, let’s not argue. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m still in shock, I suppose. Finding out like I did. I mean, they weren’t even supposed to be there, were they: the kids, your mum, when the fire started? I had no idea …’ Jonathan trailed off, with a sigh. ‘Ignore me, I’m just a bit fraught, that’s all.’

Andrea stepped back. ‘So am I, Jonathan. A lot fraught. We don’t have a home,’ she reminded him, overdue tears now dangerously close to the surface. ‘And what you choose to do about it is have a tantrum because you feel your ego’s under threat?’

Andrea searched his face, disappointed and disillusioned. He had changed. He wasn’t the Jonathan she knew. It was as if something was eating away at him, and Andrea had no clue what. When had he become so apparently uncaring?

‘Excuse me. I think I need some air.’ She notched up her chin and walked past him, determined not to give in to her tears, when the man who should be helping her hold it all together seemed to be emotionally missing.

‘Andrea, don’t go.’ Jonathan caught her arm, his look now one of quiet desperation. ‘I know I’ve been a bit off, but it’s nothing to do with my ego being under threat. I might have lost you, for Pete’s sake. That’s the point, don’t you see? I still feel I might lose you. I’m trying to sort things out, I swear. That’s why I needed to talk to you. Damn it, Andrea, I’ve been trying to find a moment to talk to you since I came back.’

‘In which case, maybe you should have tried harder, Jonathan, instead of sneaking about trying to catch people in some imagined secret liaison,’ Andrea suggested, unimpressed by his agitated tone. ‘I’d like to leave now, please.’

Jonathan sighed and let her go. ‘You’d better stop by the park if you’re going out,’ he said, with a despondent shrug. ‘Check on your mother.’

‘I will be stopping by the park,’ Andrea replied calmly, ‘thank you. And since when did you care about my mother’s welfare anyway?’

She hadn’t meant to say that. She didn’t want to hurl accusations any more than she wanted to hear them, but the fact was, he really didn’t seem to care. Andrea gave him a despairing glance and then headed for the front door, to find David looking evermore uncomfortable in the hall.

It was obviously catching, Andrea thought, grabbing her coat and heading on out. They were all eavesdropping, David included. Though unavoidably, she supposed, blowing hot ragged steam on the air as she turned away from the house, from her own house, which she simply couldn’t bear to see the destruction of beyond the blackened, soul crushing exterior. She’d been aiming to talk to Jonathan too, about his offering her a hand to hold while she ventured in. Fat chance with him still more missing than here now that he had finally turned up, and choosing to argue with her, rather than talk.

Breathing deeply, she tried to rein in her spiralling emotions. It wasn’t Jonathan’s fault they’d hardly had a moment together, she supposed. There was slim chance of privacy with so many people in one house, half of which was packed full of boxes, the other half in need of repair. Oh dear, she so missed her home. Had Jonathan made any headway with the insurance company? she wondered. He hadn’t mentioned anything to her yet. But then, as he’d pointed out, he hadn’t had much chance to mention anything, had he?

‘Jake?’ David knocked on his son’s door. Would he answer this time? Probably not.

David reached for the handle, only to find the door yanked open by Ryan.

‘Hi. How’s it going?’ David smiled at the gangly teenager, who, far from being the bad influence David had worried he might be, seemed to be sprouting a halo along with some actual stubble – and who David was hugely grateful to for looking out for Jake.

‘Yeah, good. Just helping Jake sort some stuff out.’

‘Oh?’ David glanced past Ryan into the room, to where Jake sat cross-legged on the floor, no PlayStation control in sight, amazingly. ‘What stuff would that be then, Jake?’

David waited, but took his cue when Ryan motioned him on in.

‘Off to get some more Pepsi, mate,’ Ryan said diplomatically. ‘Want some?’

Jake nodded, but didn’t look up.

‘Back in ten.’ Ryan drooped out, skinny fit jeans still clinging to his hips and looking every inch the typical allergic-to-anything-strenuous teenager, which belied his caring attitude. David owed the kid, that was for sure.

He owed Jake, too, big time.

David turned his attention back to his son, who was surrounded by a sea of photographs, he realised. Photographs of Michelle, from the albums in the spare room.

Cautiously, David walked across to stand by Jake’s side. Then, hands in pockets, he waited again, wondering what to say that could even begin to heal their relationship. What would he want to hear, if he were Jake?

Sorry perhaps? Wholly inadequate, David knew, but it might be a start.

He looked down at his son, whose head was bent in concentration on his endeavours.

He needed a haircut. Needed a lot of things.

David closed his eyes as he noticed the bottle of perfume tucked in the corner of Jake’s Adidas shoebox.

Michelle’s perfume.

Because Jake wanted something to remind him of her.

‘Need any help, Jake?’ David asked softly.

Jake didn’t answer. That was okay. David didn’t really expect him to. He swallowed back a lump in his throat, then took a gamble, crouched down next to Jake – and silently waited.

Biding his time, he studied the photographs quietly alongside his son. ‘You’ve chosen all the good ones,’ he ventured.

Jake did respond then, somewhere between a nod and a shrug.

‘Not many fun ones though.’ David reached for a photograph. One he’d taken himself on what turned out to be their last time at the theme park together: Michelle, Jake in front of her on the log flume, both shrieking with laughter and soaked through to the skin.

Probably the last time she had laughed – with him.

David breathed in, hard. ‘I did make her sad, Jake,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t help much, but … I wish I hadn’t.’

Jake’s head dropped even lower.

‘She did laugh though, you know, Jake. With you.’

David placed the photograph carefully in the box. ‘Alton Towers,’ he said, ‘summer before last. She laughed so much she had to dash to the loo, remember?’

Jake dragged the back of his hand under his nose.

‘She couldn’t have been that happy without you, Jake. You gave her the gift of laughter. That’s something to be glad about. To be proud of.’

David stopped, his chest filling up as he watched a slow tear fall from his son’s face.

David hesitated, then rested a hand lightly on Jake’s shoulder. Jake didn’t shrug him off.

‘You won her a stuffed toy that day, do you remember? What was it? A tiger?’

‘Tigger.’ Jake finally spoke.

‘That’s right,’ David said, his throat tight. ‘Tigger.’

‘She kept it in the car,’ Jake picked up in a small voice.

The car she never arrived at the hospital in, David realised, overwhelming guilt slicing through him. ‘She kept a whole family of furry friends in the car. I’m surprised there was room for her.’

Jake’s mouth twitched into a small smile. ‘She talked to them.’ He glanced up at David, his huge blue eyes glassy with tears.

‘That was the little girl inside her. The little girl you made laugh.’ David squeezed Jake’s shoulder. He actually felt like whooping. Like punching the air. Like picking Jake up and hugging him so hard … Jake had looked at him. Full on. No anger.

David closed his eyes, relief washing over him. ‘I have one of Mum’s stuffed toys,’ he said throatily. ‘One she kept. Not Tigger, but … Do you want me to fetch it?’

Jake nodded.

‘Right.’ David smiled. ‘Back in two.’ He dragged his forearm across his eyes as he headed for his own room. He had something else, too. Something he’d wanted to give Jake before, but somehow couldn’t.

The antique locket he’d bought Michelle for her thirtieth birthday was in the bedside drawer. David collected it, ran his thumb over the engraved rose gold surface of it. If Jake needed something to remind him of his mother, this was it.

‘Bedtime Bear,’ David announced, joining Jake back on the floor. ‘Your very first toy.’ He handed his son the scruffy little white bear.

Jake laughed and David really did feel like crying then.

‘I have something else for you, Jake.’ He passed him the locket. ‘It was very special to her,’ he said gently as Jake’s eyes fell on the photograph of himself inside it. ‘She wore it right next to her heart. And that,’ he went on as Jake looked at the lock of hair on the opposite side of the locket, ‘is your hair and hers, entwined.’

Jake went very quiet.

‘Okay?’ David asked.

Jake nodded vigorously. ‘Okay,’ he said, around a sharp intake of breath. David reached out, ran his hand through Jake’s unruly crop, and then allowed it to stray to his shoulder. He wanted very much to hold him, to reassure him. But Jake’s body language was tense. It would take time, David knew, but maybe someday, Jake would let him back in.