head, fighting her words. ‘It was my fault.’
I take a small step forward, closer to her, closer to the edge. The sea is hungry, snapping its jaws together beneath me. My legs are shaking, my throat tight; the fear of death has a hand on my shoulder and it is trying to pull me back to safety.
‘I’m scared.’ The words tumble from my mouth as I try to hold on to her hand tightly.
‘I wish I could take you with me.’ She smiles sadly. ‘But—’ Kerry puts on a croaky voice telling me she’ll be right here, pointing to my heart, quoting from ET, the film we would always watch if we were sick. Her plait is hanging over her chest in the same position as it was the day she died. ‘I have to do this,’ she says.
I nod.
‘It’s the best thing for you . . . for them.’
I swallow hard and peer over the edge again. I close my eyes and try to control the shaking in my legs; I breathe in slowly as my foot takes another step.
Kerry is smiling out towards the ocean, the sunrise catching the glint of green in her ring as she wipes a tear away. She turns her back on the sunrise and squeezes my hands. Her voice is steady and earnest. ‘I’m sorry, Jen. I’m sorry for putting you through this. I’m sorry for leaving you alone . . . but you have to go on living, Jen. It’s time for me to go.’ Her eyebrows raise as she rests her hands on my shoulders. ‘You don’t need me any more, Jen.’
‘I know.’ The words are caught, they come out as a breath. Kerry takes a step back.
‘Wait!’ Panic stretches my hand out towards her.
The Accidental Death of Jennifer Jones
If a person were asked to describe Jennifer Jones, they would say that she is happy with her life. They would say that she’s happily married to Edward, the third man she slept with, who was neither the best nor the worst of her conquests. She is happy with the way her children have turned out, a perfect pair – one of each, Oscar, six and Hailey, nine – who are both well behaved, polite and intelligent. If that person could see her now, they would see a woman dressed in a green dress which whispers with each step she takes, which glimmers in the early morning glow. The wind is playing with her dark hair; it twists and turns in the wind; her blue eyes are bright as she looks down into the water below. She replays the evening, watches herself and her husband laughing beneath a tunnel of ocean, the peace and majesty of the fish as they swam, the light in his eyes as he talked about their children and the year ahead. About old times, about her sister. Jennifer Jones knows that her sister will no longer be there with her. Her hands rest on a fence, high up along a cliff face. The fence has stood here for many years, keeping tourists safe, tolerating the sticky hands of children, as their parents hover closely behind them: not too close now, hold on to my hand, look you can see for miles. But this fence is becoming tired; it no longer has the strength to keep the children safe, to keep their loved ones from harm’s way. Jennifer Jones pushes her hand onto the wood until it snaps, cracks and falls. The woman in green leans gently forward and watches it plummet, a sad smile playing on her mouth.
Jennifer Jones knows this is the right thing to do, to say goodbye to her sister, but as Kerry steps towards the edge of the cliff, Jennifer is filled with panic. She doesn’t want to let her go. She can’t watch her sister die again.
Kerry turns towards the sea. She is ready, at peace, but as Kerry begins to take a step, Jennifer reaches out a hand to stop her. Jennifer knows her husband will come looking for her; she knows he will see the path; he will see the broken fence, he will know at once what has happened. He will ignore the little nagging sensation in the pit of his stomach that tells him that he believed this would happen all along. He will picture how happy his wife has been recently, he will remember the snow and her arm around his neck, the laughter in her throat.