The Dilemma(62)

‘And me – I’m just an individual, filling in time. Yes, I’m meeting people but afterwards they go back to their families and I go back to an empty house.’ She shakes her head sadly. ‘I still can’t believe that both my sons chose to live so far away.’

‘I think maybe life chose for them.’

‘I know,’ she says. ‘I know it wasn’t a conscious effort to move as far away from me as they could. And they certainly didn’t expect their dad to die so young. What they expected was for me and Tony to live out a long and happy retirement together while they got on with their lives.’

‘Exactly. If he’d died before they’d gone to live abroad, they might not have gone.’

‘They keep telling me to go and see them,’ she goes on. ‘They say I can stay as long as I like. But it’s so expensive.’

‘Why don’t you start saving, like I did for this party? Do you think you could start saving some of your pension?’

‘Yes, I’m sure I could.’

‘Then every couple of years, you’d have enough for a trip to either Australia or Canada. That way you’d have something to look forward to.’

Paula nods. ‘You’re right, I would. That’s such a good idea – you never know, this time next year I might be off to Australia!’

‘I’d go during the winter months, if I were you. You may as well have some sunshine if you can get it.’

‘I’ll aim for November next year. I’ll definitely have saved up enough by then.’ She gives me a hug. ‘Thank you, Livia, I feel so much better about everything now.’ She looks towards the terrace. ‘Maybe I’ll have one last dance before I go.’

‘You do that,’ I tell her.

I watch her go, deciding to invite her over more often. Adam won’t mind, and he can always disappear to his shed so that Paula and I can have a proper chat together. I’m shocked at how lonely she sounded and also by what she said about being envious of me. I hate that I’ve made her feel that way, but it must seem to her that I have it all. I know how lucky I am that I have my family, my friends and my health. At least for now.





2 A.M. – 3 A.M.





Adam


I pick up the box from where Rob dumped it on the lawn and move it out of the way. I know I shouldn’t have yelled at Rob, but the box was Marnie’s idea and I don’t want it damaged.

My mind goes to the other things I’ll want to keep, things that normally, I’d have thrown away, like her old bike. It’s leaning against the wall in the garage, waiting for me to take it to the tip. I won’t, not now. It was a present for her twelfth birthday, I can see her riding it, the ends of her hair lifting in the wind as she pedalled as fast as she could. And her old desk, which I was going to use for firewood – I’ll restore it instead. How can I ever throw away anything that Marnie has touched, that might still have something of her?

And there are all the things that Marnie gave me, things I’ve never used, or got around to wearing. Like the multi-coloured Red Herring socks she sent me last Christmas, all the way from Hong Kong. They sit in my drawer, still in their box, because brightly coloured socks aren’t my thing. I wish I’d worn them, just once, and taken a photo to send to her – See, I’m wearing them! And the expensive corkscrew that she gave me for my last birthday and which I’ve never used, because the one in the drawer works perfectly well. I should have used it, I should have at least told her I’d used it.

‘So you’re off to Millau.’

I feel Dad’s hand on my shoulder. I turn to face him and just seeing him gives me strength, because I know that he’ll be here for me in the next hours, days, weeks, months, like he’s always been. He’ll understand why I let the party go ahead, he’ll understand that I wanted Livia to have these last few hours of happiness before her world fell apart. And if he doesn’t – well, he’ll say that he does, because that’s what parents do, they say what we need them to say, at that moment in time.

‘Yes,’ I say.

‘It’ll do you good to have a break, even if it’s only for four days. Here.’ He hands me the glass he’s holding. ‘You look as if you could do with a beer.’

‘Thanks.’ I take it but I can’t bring myself to drink it. ‘Dad, if someone did something bad but he had good intentions, would you be able to understand why he did it?’

Dad considers this. ‘You mean like someone robbing a bank because his family are starving?’

‘Yes, something like that.’

‘Did anyone get hurt while he was robbing the bank?’

‘No.’

‘Then, even though it was morally wrong, I wouldn’t have a problem with it. As long as his family really were hungry and it wasn’t to buy the children an Xbox.’

‘But what if his wife was really upset with him when she realised that he’d robbed the bank, even though he’d had their best interests at heart?’ I say, adapting myself to his mindset.

‘Once they’d had what they wanted, you mean?’

‘Yes.’

He moves to the wall and I follow him over. ‘I think her upset would be more to do with guilt,’ he says, as I sit down beside him. ‘You know, that she’d enjoyed the food when, if she’d known it had been bought with stolen money, she’d have chosen not to eat it.’