On the other hand, on re-reading that poem, if I wasn’t hooked up to a drip right now, I’d have a shot at climbing Everest myself…
I stared at that letter, allowing it to both entertain and soothe me, just as her words had when she was alive. Now though there was an added dimension that brought the most incredible grief. My whole body burned with the injustice that someone who was loved as much as Ginny had to die. I was quite sure there were plenty of despicable people out there whom no one would miss and whose demise would do the world a favour.
I kept returning to that phrase, ‘focus on what matters now, not what happened then.’ So easy to say for her, so difficult for my heart to hold onto. My eyes alighted on ‘You’ve always been so much stronger than you gave yourself credit for.’ It was a great compliment but it felt a bit misplaced: I really wasn’t certain I could get through this with my family intact.
I sighed. Ginny would have loved the opportunity to be in my shoes, with another chance to see the tulips push their little noses through the earth. To have the privilege of embracing the seasons rolling round inexorably, immune to human frailty or error. To hug her boy, again, without ration, without the second hand marking an urgent drumbeat. But she wasn’t the one facing the logistics of blending this most bizarre of families, fronting out the twitterings and snickering of the whole village, wrestling with bitterness and hurt.
With a jolt, I realised time was ticking on. I looked at my watch. They’d been gone well over three-quarters of an hour. I had a sudden rush of insecurity that Faye would be listing all my faults to Patrick and he’d be nodding in agreement. If ever there was a good time to read ‘And Still I Rise’ and fine-tune my world domination skills, it was now.
As Patrick’s tyres crunched on the gravel, I read the first verse and prepared to make my own definitive mark on my much smaller, but significant world.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Patrick came in with a determined look on his face. Phoebe was glaring a ‘right now, tell him right now’ at me. I acknowledged her, wondering how she’d react if I couldn’t bring myself to toe the family line. And all the while, Victor, glorious, laidback Victor, was humming to himself, wandering in as though the only thing he had to concern himself with was how to step over his trainers in the hallway for the tenth time without feeling the need to pick them up.
Patrick raised his eyebrows at me. ‘I can see why you’ve fallen out with Faye. Bloody nightmare, she is. Tried to give her the heads-up about the Adderall and she just got really nasty, saying “Georgia is naturally clever and doesn’t need drugs to enhance her performance,” like she was a flipping Olympic sprinter or something. No wonder Georgia’s falling apart under the pressure – I doubt that she’s ever had a say in the steam train of Faye’s ambition.’
‘I know. Poor girl.’ I found it comforting that Patrick had been on the receiving end of Faye’s perfect mother/perfect daughter diatribes because he always seemed to assume that I’d taken everything the wrong way. But I also knew this mini-rant was just delaying the inevitable.
Patrick looked to me for reassurance. He mouthed ‘Now?’
I was backing away from the moment that I’d see my husband bond with his son in a way that felt closed off to me. We couldn’t dodge it any longer, however.
Patrick turned to Victor, ‘Got a minute? Jo and I have got something to talk to you about. Phoebe, I think you should come into the kitchen too.’
Phoebe’s lips kept twitching, as though she was having to stop her excitement from bursting out. Despite everything, I felt a rush of relief that Phoebe was approaching our family set-up with obvious joy. One fewer tripwire to negotiate at least.
Victor sat at the kitchen table with no more curiosity than as if he was waiting to be given a choice between fish and chips or curry for dinner.
I bustled about, making tea. I wondered briefly what people of other nationalities did when they were postponing their own moments of drama.
‘Jo, come and sit down.’
I set the mugs on the table.
Patrick swallowed. Victor suddenly took on the alertness of a dog who’d scented a deer on the wind.
‘Victor, I’m not quite