when we’d shared a hut on Ko Samui with a resident rat. I loved seeing her face break into a smile as we remembered dancing at the Green Mango under the stars. I knew you were supposed to say all the things you needed to, ask all the questions that you’d never otherwise get an answer to, but sometimes I just wanted to tap into a shared experience that took us back to a time when we had sand between our toes and years ahead of us. And then she’d died before I found the nerve to pin her down.
Patrick said, ‘I’m quite glad Ginny wasn’t in touch with him really. It would be horrible for Victor to get really settled with us, then have some other bloke swoop in and cart him off to Toronto or wherever.’
I blinked at this total turn-up for the books and chose to shout up the stairs that dinner was ready rather than pick up on the fact that Patrick no longer felt we needed a six-month review of Victor’s future here. I was disappointed that my reaction wasn’t one of straightforward relief but before I could examine the thought further, Phoebe came bounding down the stairs, chatty for once about her friends learning to drive.
She said, ‘I love those little Fiat 500s. So cool. I’d love one of those.’
Patrick said, ‘You can forget that. You’ll have to share Mum’s Ka.’
I saw the hurt flit across Phoebe’s face before she said, ‘Don’t worry, I never expect anything from you.’ I wish I knew what the right approach was. Having more or less everything she wanted hadn’t worked but Patrick was right that our clampdown in the weeks following the whole video debacle had led to more defiant and extreme behaviour.
After debating long and hard with Patrick about whether we should ban her from going out completely, we’d finally decided to try and win her over with kindness rather than punish her harshly and risk out and out warfare. Patrick seemed to have forgotten what we’d agreed, so I shot him a look and tried to keep some kind of tenuous connection going. ‘I don’t think Phoebe meant she expected a car, she was just filling us in on what people were driving.’ I spoke gently. ‘You’re not even seventeen for another few months so we can look at it again then.’ But it was too late. That tiny gossamer-thin thread from her world to ours had snapped.
Patrick mumbled something about how her behaviour would have to improve significantly before he felt minded to pay for lessons, let alone a car. ‘An upturn in grades and a few less dramas and we might think about it.’ He then invited Victor to go to a business conference with him in London in the Christmas holidays.
I did wonder why we bothered discussing what tactic to take with her when Patrick just seemed to ignore what we’d settled on. Of course, I didn’t want to give Phoebe the impression she could get away with anything but in a different way from Victor, she’d also had to adjust to a lot of change. Maybe we were expecting too much of a sixteen-year-old. I smiled at her, trying to show her that I understood why she might feel left out, but before I could suggest going to the theatre or booking a spa day, she pushed her plate away and disappeared to her bedroom.
I should have been thrilled that Patrick was starting to come round to the idea of Victor living here, but instead I couldn’t escape feeling that if someone was winning, there was a corresponding loss elsewhere.
Chapter Ten
Patrick suggested taking Victor to visit Ginny’s grave on her birthday, 18 October. I hadn’t forgotten, but I was hoping that by ignoring it, I’d somehow skip over the day without having to fall into the bear pit of emotion that I didn’t yet dare indulge. And, shamefully, I was afraid of what going back to Cardiff might do to Victor and whether we were capable of dealing with the aftermath. I kidded myself that because he’d lived first-hand with the knowledge that Ginny was dying, he’d done most of his grieving. Whenever I tried to tell a story about Ginny, he listened but never chipped in with any memories of his own.
‘Do you think that’s wise? Reminding him about her when he’s settling down here?’
Patrick put his head on one side. ‘I don’t think we’ll be reminding him, Jo. I