away from my head, take hold of the can of Coke he is offering me, lifting it to my dry lips and gulping it down. The dog licks my face again and I can’t help but smile.
‘Are you lost?’
I laugh at this and then check myself. ‘You could say that, but no, I’m local.’ I pull myself up but take his arm, wincing as I lean on him for a moment.
The man, Richard, helps me home and I chat easily with him. He has an easy-going manner, conversation flows smoothly, my limping is taking us longer to get home than usual and soon I’m talking about Kerry.
‘She sounds like an amazing sister.’
‘She was. That’s why I don’t . . .’ I pause, rolling around the words in my mouth, chewing them before swallowing. ‘I don’t understand why.’
‘Why she died?’ he questions. I nod, looking away. ‘And why you didn’t?’ The words that fall from his lips seem effortless, hinged with an understanding; they pull my gaze back. ‘I lost my twin brother to cancer when I was twelve, so I know something of what you’re going through.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ I give his arm a gentle squeeze. ‘How did you . . . cope?’
‘I didn’t. I got into fights, was drinking myself into an early grave by my late twenties . . .’ He pulls the lead with his spare hand and the dog looks up at his owner with affection, tongue lolling out of his mouth. ‘I made my parents’ life an even worse hell than it was already.’
We’re almost at my house and so I stop walking. ‘So, what happened?’
‘I hit rock bottom, almost drowned after throwing myself off Coletown Bridge. I had my stomach pumped and was forced to join AA. I never intended to get sober, but as I was coming out of my first meeting, I met my wife.’ A smile breaks out from beneath his skin, the landscape of his face transforming in seconds: the creases between his eyebrows softening; the crow’s feet around his eyes deepen. ‘She was late for a dance class and her purse fell out of her bag as she ran past.’ His smile is infectious. ‘I’ve been sober 2,196 days,’ he says with a hint of pride. ‘And we’re expecting our first child next month.’
‘Congratulations,’ I say sincerely. ‘I’m so pleased for you, for you both. This is me,’ I add, looking up at my house.
As his hand raises to knock the door, he pauses. ‘Everything happens for a reason, Jennifer. I know that means nothing to you right now.’ His eyes meet mine and there is deep understanding in his gaze. ‘Fate is an impossible thing to control, but if you can see past the pain . . . you will find reason there. If my brother hadn’t died, I might never have met my wife, we wouldn’t be having our baby. I’m not saying that one thing is better than the other, but I don’t think there was anything I could have done to change my life even if I wanted to.’
Chapter Thirty-One
Ed
Someone is hammering at the door. I reach for the clock: it’s only six a.m. The knocking repeats. My leg kicks across to Jen’s side of the bed but it’s cold; nothing new there.
I pull my boxers from the heap of clothes on the floor, and rush down the stairs. Hailey opens her bedroom door; her cheeks are red and she is rubbing her eyes.
‘What’s that noise, Daddy?’ Fredrick – her teddy – is hanging limply in her hand; his one eye is missing from a fatal incident with one of Oscar’s hot wheels.
‘It’s just the post lady, go back to bed, sweetie, it’s early.’ I place my hand on her back and return her to her room as another assault on the front door ensues. I know even as I fly down the stairs that something isn’t right. If Jen was here the house would smell of the fresh coffee that she can’t function without, the radio would be on in the background playing classical music quietly so as not to wake the kids. The house feels cold, and as I slide across the door chain, I realise that the kitchen window is wide open. I’m scared about this as my hand turns the lock on the front door . . . anyone could have climbed through it. Anyone could have got into our house. But that thought is pushed aside as the door opens