Christa felt natural, real, like he belonged, like he’d earned it. He impulsively kissed Christa’s shoulder and she turned her head awkwardly to look at him.
‘Do you want to make your plaque count, Carl?’
‘What?’
‘Nothing, I’ll explain later.’ She yawned.
‘I’ve got some steaks in the fridge. Can I treat you to dinner tomorrow?’
She laughed, dislodging Valentine from his milk supply, spraying him in the eye. ‘You cheeky bastard.’
Epilogue
‘Is everyone ready?’ Christa asked, shielding her eyes against the dazzling sunlight. Valentine was balanced on her hip, drooling. The red bib round his neck was saturated. Teething was a bitch. Louise had been uncertain about doing this; she thought it was ridiculously emotional and over the top, but the kids had been enthusiastic.
‘If Daddy’s in Heaven, he’ll read them, won’t he?’ Gemma asked keenly.
Daddy’s still on the fucking golf course, Louise thought darkly, but only because she felt Nigel’s absence so intensely. She and Winnie had returned to Barnes Spiritualist Church two weeks ago, but he hadn’t showed up once again. Trevor had, and he’d been quite vociferous about Winnie’s job, her dancing dates with Norman and her plans to go away for a weekend as the Fab Four.
‘It’s good he approves,’ Winnie said in the car on the way home. ‘I’d hate to disappoint him.’
‘Blimey, Win. What would you do if he told you he wanted you to stop everything?’
‘Tell him to bugger off, but it would make me sad. Trevor would want me to be happy.’
‘I think Nigel wants me to rot in hell.’
‘No he doesn’t! Trevor said you had to listen to the radio. Switch it on then!’
The opening bars of ‘Islands in the Stream’ played out through the car speakers from Radio Two.
‘Oh, Win, it’s our song!’
‘See!’ Winnie had said, patting Louise’s trembling hand as she changed gear.
The balloons had actually been Carl’s idea. Janey’s parents had organised a ceremony for her a year after she’d died, and of course invited him along with her younger sister. They’d planned to let balloons go off Whitstable beach by the Neptune pub, her favourite summer hangout when she was young. But Carl had got completely shitfaced the day before and was so ill in bed he’d missed the whole thing. Then he’d had to drink himself into a pit of self-loathing the entire next week to prove the fact he was a terrible person.
‘Put your messages into the envelopes,’ Christa instructed the children, Louise, Phil, Jean and Brendon. Carl was writing a message too, but his wasn’t for Nigel.
‘It’s my final amends,’ he said to Christa as he wrote it. ‘I never made my peace with Janey.’ She smiled and tenderly touched his cheek.
Louise watched them. They were secretly in love; she could tell. Nothing had been said and they still lived in their separate houses, but she’d never seen her sister so happy.
‘We’re taking it very slowly,’ Christa had said once they announced they were together apart. ‘We’re dating, if that’s at all a thing when you already have a child together. We’re doing things backwards, but that’s OK.’
One day, Louise thought, I might make it out there again. But her return to practice was taking up all her time and that was enough. Greta now lived in the spare room. She was twenty-two, Australian and fitted in quite nicely apart from her dreadful green juices that stank the fridge out, and she ate beyond the no-food zone. She also practised yoga outside, even in the rain. The children loved her accent, and the fact she could walk on her hands, and that she had endless energy for the park, swimming and crafting. She also liked a glass of wine when the kids were in bed and mined Louise’s life experience for dating advice. Louise wondered how she’d ever managed without her.
Louise hadn’t wanted to invite Jean and Brendon, but Christa had forced her.
‘They’re the children’s grandparents. They’ll be so upset if they find out, especially because Phil is invited. Come on, suck it up, Lou!’ Louise had run around the day before the ceremony, clearing the house of anything that could set Jean off on one of her Wailing Wall impersonations. Surprisingly she was quite calm.
‘Dad slipped Mum a Valium,’ Phil hissed in Louise’s ear in the kitchen as they wrote their notes. ‘He didn’t want a scene either.’
Louise had stifled an inappropriate giggle at Jean’s glassy-eyed stare. She could barely grip the pen to write.
When everyone was ready, they gathered in the back garden. Louise had actually cut