Autumn Page 0,65

explained. 'Every single day the pain is worse than the last. I still can't accept that they've gone and I just...'

'It hurts now but it will get easier,' the other man said, beginning to regret his earlier words. 'It must get easier over time, it must...'

'Will it? Know that for a fact do you?'

'No, but I...'

'Just shut your mouth then,' Carl said, his voice suddenly surprisingly calm and level. 'If you don't know what you're talking about, don't say anything. Don't waste your fucking time trying to make me feel better because you can't. There's nothing you can say or do that will make any of this any easier.'

With that he got up and walked away from the table without saying another word. For a few long seconds the only sounds to be heard in the house were heavy, lethargic footsteps as Carl dragged himself upstairs and shut himself away in isolation in his room.

A short while later Michael opened another bottle of wine. He didn't ask, he just poured Emma another glass. She didn't resist.

'Really fucked up there, didn't I?' he said quietly.

She nodded.

'We both did. It's obvious he's struggling. I should never have asked him about his little girl.'

Michael immediately became defensive again.

'Maybe not, but I still think he's got to talk,' he explained. 'Jesus, we can't move on until we've dealt with everything that's happened. We can't start to build anything up until we've sorted out everything that...'

'Have you dealt with everything then?' she asked, cutting across him.

He paused for a moment and then shook his head.

'No,' he admitted. 'Have you?'

'I haven't even started. To be honest I don't even know where to start.'

'I think we should all start with what hurts the most. With Carl it's his daughter. What about you?'

She drank more wine and considered his question.

'Don't know really. Everything hurts.'

'Okay, so when does it get to you the most?'

Again she couldn't answer.

'Don't know. I was thinking about my sister's kids yesterday and that really bothered me. I didn't see them that often, but the thought that I might not see them again...'

'Where did they live?'

'Overseas. Jackie's husband got moved to Kuwait with his job for a couple of years. They were due to come back next summer.'

'They still might.'

'How do you reckon that then?'

He shrugged his shoulders.

'We still don't know for certain that any other countries have been affected by this, do we?'

'Not for sure, but...'

'But what?'

'But I think we would have heard something by now, don't you?'

'Not necessarily.'

'Oh, come on, Michael. If there was anyone left we would have heard something. You said as much back in Northwich last week.'

At the mention of the name of the town they'd fled from Michael immediately began to think about the crowd of survivors left behind in the shabby surroundings of the Whitchurch Community Centre. He pictured the faces of Stuart, Ralph, Kate and the others and wondered what had become of them. Fortunately, before he had time to think too much, Emma asked another question.

'So what about your family then?'

'What about them?'

'Who do you miss the most? Did you have a partner.'

Michael took a deep breath, stretched and yawned and then ran his fingers through his hair.

'I had been seeing a girl called Marie for about six months,' he began, 'but I haven't thought about her at all.'

'Why not?'

'We split up three weeks ago.'

'Do you miss her?'

'Not any more. I don't miss my best friend who she was screwing either. There are plenty of other people I miss more.'

'Such as?'

'Such as my mum. Last night when I was trying to get to sleep I was thinking about her. You know that feeling you get when you're just about to go to sleep and you think you can hear a voice or see a face or something?'

'Yes.'

'Well I thought I heard my mum last night. I can't even tell you what it was I thought she'd said. I just heard her for a split second. It was like she was lying next to me.'

'That was me,' Emma smiled, trying desperately to make light of a conversation that was becoming increasingly morose.

Michael managed half a smile before returning his attention to his drink. Emma studied him intently. A very private and independent man from day one, she was beginning to see signs that there might be more to him than she first thought. He was blunt, opinionated and occasionally aggressive, but she was beginning to see that despite his seemingly self-centred emotions he was genuinely concerned about