brother didn’t even come to the funeral and I don’t think we’ve been overrun with enquiries about how it’s all going for his nephew so far.’
My shoulders sagged. ‘I know.’
Patrick steepled his fingers. ‘Phoebe started to get into trouble before Victor even got here. All that performance, if you’ll pardon the pun, with that boy was just before she went on study leave for her GCSEs. April? May? Victor was still at home with Ginny.’
‘I was up and down to Cardiff, though. I wasn’t here for Phoebe in the way she perhaps needed me to be. I kept farming her out to Faye and Mum.’
Patrick pushed his chair back. ‘That’s life though, isn’t it, Jo? Sometimes every last need doesn’t get pandered to and you just have to accept that today’s not your turn and get on with it. Most teenagers don’t start shoplifting and taking drugs because their mum was helping out a dying friend for a few months.’ He got to his feet. ‘She’s had your undivided attention for sixteen years. Maybe being a spoilt little madam is more of a problem than you being absent for a few days now and again. Honestly, I’m not quite sure what she’s got to moan about. If she was in Victor’s position, I could understand a bit of wayward behaviour. But she’s not. She just needs to get a grip and take a leaf out of Victor’s book: make the best of it.’
Although there were many days when Phoebe’s selfishness left me open-mouthed, Patrick’s unforgiving view of her winded me. Despite Victor being part of the whole hotboxing escapade, Patrick somehow thought he was less to blame. Back in June, I’d been desperate for Patrick to engage, to embrace Victor. But this about-turn was a direct lesson in being careful what you wish for.
I tried again. ‘The drugs thing is a whole new escalation. And we’ve never got to the bottom of what really happened.’
‘I have,’ Patrick said, triumphantly.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Victor wasn’t even in the car when they were hotboxing.’
I hated how we were suddenly using words we never even knew before. ‘Why didn’t you say something earlier? How do you know?’
‘Because I’ve only just found out. He didn’t want to be a snitch. He’s finally admitted that he was playing FIFA in the house with Helaina’s brother.’
‘I don’t believe that. He wasn’t involved at all?’ And there they were, my unfiltered – but as yet, unfounded – accusations for all to hear.
‘Why don’t you believe it? Is it easier for you to believe that someone has led Phoebe astray? It could be that she’s the ringleader.’
Patrick had nailed my worst fears, but I couldn’t yet admit them, not even to myself. ‘I just don’t think she was that bad before he got here.’
‘You need to take your blinkers off.’ He sounded like Faye. When had we become so harsh with each other? Where had he gone, that man who’d flown back early from Canada to stand beside me at my dad’s funeral? Who’d left Cory to party on with Ginny in return for the chilly single bed at my mum’s and a sitting room full of weeping relatives. The man who’d placed my hand in his and squeezed gently to remind me that he was there. His warmth in that cold church, the solid feel of him, holding me steady. The man who’d raised a glass of whisky to my dad, then to me, after the last well-wishers had disappeared and said, ‘Do you know what your dad dying made me realise?’
And I’d lifted my head, peering at him through swollen eyelids and a fug of alcohol that I’d forced down to alleviate the ache in my heart but that had had the opposite effect, magnifying it, making me a mixture of weepy and belligerent. ‘What?’
‘That I can’t stand to see you in pain.’
I had a flash of irritation then. ‘That’s what happens when someone dies. I’m pretty sure most people don’t lose a parent and shrug it off like they forgot their gloves somewhere.’
In that moment, I wanted to claim the monopoly on grief. Cory, Ginny and Patrick still had both of their parents. And though we’d shared so much, knew each other so well, this thing, this huge adult thing, was a world away from a meeting with a scary boss, a bollocking at work, a break-up with girlfriends or boyfriends. And only I, so far, was familiar with this abyss.
Patrick had tutted at himself. ‘I