‘You’re so nice.’ A weight fell against me. It was him, his head. This young boy, this lonely, vulnerable young boy. I knew he was fighting back tears because I was too.
I put my arm around him. ‘Come on, love. Everything will be all right, I promise. I know you don’t think it will be now, but it will, trust me. And one day you’ll be old like me and someone will say, oh, don’t you wish you were young, and you’ll think, no, no I bloody don’t. Because it’s hard, being young. You can’t get forward for tripping over your own stupid mistakes. You don’t know who you are, and even if you do, you don’t know that it’s OK to be who you are and that people love you for all the things you’re busy trying to change. Happiness takes practice, but I’m here to tell you it’s OK to be who you are – do you understand what I’m saying, love? That’s where happiness starts. And it’s OK to love someone even if they don’t or can’t love you back, though it’s the hardest thing in the world. But I tell you what, one day you’ll love someone and I promise they will love you right back. They’ll love you like you deserve to be loved and you’ll feel taller than a bloody skyscraper.’
The weight left my side. He wiped his eyes. ‘Need to get back on my feet.’
‘I know you do, love. And you will, I promise.’
It was time for a walk.
‘Come on,’ I said, jumping down from the wall. ‘I want to show you something.’
His eyes opened, closed, opened. He took my hands, stood, staggered to one side. I knew then that he’d had more to drink than what he’d shown me. ‘Where we goin’?’
‘A place. A special place where I go when things are looking bleak. Come on.’ I held out my hand. He took it.
43
Rachel
We followed the hedge up to where it ends and walked across the grassland. We were coming at the pond a different way.
‘Where are we going?’ he asked again.
‘To my special thinking spot.’ I had a horrible sense of déjà vu: my hand on Jo’s shoulder in the dark. Did I know what I was doing? Now, looking back, I think I was putting my own guilt to the test. Seeing if I could catch myself in the act. Which means I probably did know exactly what I was doing.
‘In the park?’ he said, knocking into me. ‘Sorry.’
‘That’s OK. It’s the little pond – have you ever been?’ I turned to look at him, saw a smile brighten his face.
‘My nan used to take us there when we were little. We used to feed the ducks.’
‘That’s the place. I used to take my kids, Kieron and Katie, when they were little. I got married in the town hall.’
We stopped at the pathway that leads to the pond. I followed his skinny frame into the black recess.
‘Is this the place?’ he asked.
‘Yep. This bench. I just sit on it from time to time when I need to organise my mind. This last year I’ve come here a lot.’
We sat down. It was almost silent. Almost; the road was no more than an occasional dull rush. The water lay flat, the reeds sunk into its black mirror surface as if into pre-made holes.
I felt the living heat of him next to me. ‘Peaceful as anything, isn’t it?’
He nodded. A silence fell.
‘My mum doesn’t even know I’m gay,’ he said.
God love him, I thought. Poor sweet boy.
‘You’ll find your way back to her one day,’ I said. ‘Everything will come right.’
‘How do you know?’
I shrugged and sighed. ‘I know things. Age. Experience. This fella she’s got on the go will move on and you’ll get your ducks in a row and make something of yourself. This is a bad time but you’ll pull yourself up because you’re a good person, Ian. You’re polite and kind and you want to work. And one day you’ll knock on her door and you’ll be a man of substance and she’ll see you and she’ll be proud. I’m going to help you get back on track. I don’t know how yet, but I will, I promise. And one day you’ll be with your mum again and you’ll tell her who you really are and she’ll understand.’ I could tell he was listening by the twitch of his head.