The Two Lives of Lydia Bird(45)

I may have opted to see New Year’s Eve as just another day, but Jonah clearly hasn’t allowed himself that kindness.

He stares at me, and then, finally, he says what he’s really come here to say.

‘I’m … I’m so fucking sorry for what I did,’ he whispers, gaunt. ‘It should have been me.’ He covers his face with his spread fingers and slides down the wall until he’s on his backside. ‘I wish it had been me.’

I sigh deeply. He’s clearly not coming inside the house, so I put the door on the latch and take a seat beside him on the cold step. Across the road noise spills from a brightly lit house.

‘Don’t say that.’ I take one of his icy hands between both of mine. ‘Don’t you ever say that again.’

‘You think it,’ he blurts.

I stare at him, stricken. ‘Jonah, I don’t, I honestly don’t. There isn’t a day goes by when I don’t wish Freddie was still here, but I swear to God I’ve never even once wished it had been you instead.’

I’m not lying. I’ve wished a hundred times that Freddie hadn’t detoured to pick Jonah up, but that isn’t the same thing.

He drinks from the bottle then traces a shaky finger over the scar above his eyebrow. ‘Just this. I got this, and his beautiful fucking heart stopped beating.’

I take the bottle when he holds it out to me and swallow a good slug, feeling the liquid burn its way down my throat. The heat is welcome; it’s frost-cold out here tonight. I don’t know what I can say to make Jonah feel any less wretched. Then I know.

‘Mum and Elle gave me a memory box today. Things in it that remind them of Freddie.’

‘Like any of us could forget him.’ Jonah rests his elbows on his spread knees.

‘There was a photograph from school,’ I say. ‘You, me and Freddie. We were fourteen or so. We look like babies.’

He looks at the floor and laughs softly. ‘Fourteen. Shit. I teach kids that age now.’

‘We all grew up.’

‘And we’re all getting older – except Freddie,’ Jonah says. ‘I can’t imagine him as an old man.’

I shake my head.

‘Me neither.’ I drink a little more Jack Daniels. It’s strong stuff; I can feel it mingling with the wine already in my system, loosening my tongue and blurring my cold, brittle edges.

‘You still look the same as you used to,’ I say. ‘Except you had mad hair.’

He looks at me and I make big hair gestures around my head with my hands. He huffs under his breath.

‘Yeah, well. There was never spare money around to get it cut and man buns hadn’t been invented yet.’

I was never overly aware of Jonah’s lack of funds as a kid, he always hid it from me. But then he hid lots of things back then; it’s only in recent years that I learned from Freddie how far Jonah’s childhood was from fairy tale.

‘You were his greatest friend.’ I want to find things to say to make Jonah feel better. ‘You got him out of a lot of scrapes as a kid.’

Jonah rests his head back against the wall. ‘Christ, but he was trouble,’ he says. ‘The only fight I ever had at school was his fault.’

I’m curious now; I don’t remember Jonah ever fighting. ‘Who did you fight with?’

He pauses, tapping his head lightly against the bricks as he thinks. ‘Nah, it’s gone. Some kid who Freddie should have known better than to mess with, anyway.’

‘He never knew when to stop,’ I chime in, because that was just his nature.

‘Fearless.’

‘Which isn’t always a good thing,’ I say, tempering Jonah’s JD-induced hero worship ever so slightly.

‘Better than being a coward,’ he says, bleak as he stares into the depths of the bottle again.

‘How’s things with Dee?’ I ask, more to change the subject than because I’m interested.

He rolls his head sideways on the wall to look at me. ‘Up and down.’

‘Is that a euphemism?’ Look at me, cracking a joke, rubbish as it is.

‘Very funny,’ he says, not laughing. ‘To be honest, I’m not sure it’s going anywhere. She’s just not that into me.’

I take the bottle from him and swill some back. ‘Somehow I find that hard to believe.’

‘She doesn’t think my head’s in the right place.’

‘What?’ I’m instantly angry on his behalf. ‘You lost your best friend earlier this year. What kind of person can’t understand that?’

He falls silent. ‘It’s not just Freddie she worries about,’ he says eventually. ‘It’s you too.’

‘Me?’ I’ve barely seen Dee since the event at the school, once or twice in passing with Jonah.

He stares at me, and for a moment I think he wishes he hadn’t said anything at all. Then he sighs and shrugs.

‘She just doesn’t get it,’ he says, trying to explain. ‘That you and me were friends first, before you and Fred were even a thing. Platronic friends, I mean.’

‘Plantonic,’ I say, and misplaced laughter bubbles up in my throat because I can’t say it either. Christ, I’m half furious, half tickled, and then suddenly fireworks start to explode high in the skies above us.