The Two Lives of Lydia Bird(51)

And I mean it. I’m going into work, for the morning at least. I’ve booked a half-day so I can spend some time at the cemetery in the afternoon. I’ll go and have a chat with Freddie and then I’ll come home again and have myself an early night. I haven’t taken a pink pill since January. I’ve told myself it’s because I’m rationing my supply, but if I’m honest, it’s probably more because of Elle losing the baby there. Her pregnancy is a very apparent part of my life here in my waking world; she’s still got terrible morning sickness and tossing name suggestions around has become our main thread of conversation. She is already sporting a small but perfectly formed bump to show for it. In a few months there will be a brand-new human here who doesn’t exist in my other world; it feels like a ticking clock, or perhaps a time bomb.





Thursday 14 March


Is it odd to have a picnic at the cemetery? I guess it kind of is, but it’s my birthday and I’ll do what I want to. It’s not exactly a picnic, anyway; just the blanket out of my boot to sit on because the ground’s cold, and a flask of coffee. I’ve got a slice of cake too; everyone gathered round my desk just before I left work and sang to me, a little out of tune as they thrust a helium balloon at me with apologetic, hopeful eyes. They gave me flowers and a bottle of something fizzy as well. I appreciate the gesture. I’ve left the balloon and the bottle in the car, a party on the passenger seat, out of place here amongst the quiet granite. I’ve brought the flowers out with me to leave with Freddie. I was going to get some from a local florist, but as these were a gift to me, they’re now a gift from me to him. Does it sound strange to say it feels like sharing a tiny piece of my birthday with him? I’ve learned not to question my own actions and thoughts too deeply though, sometimes you just have to go with whatever gets you through the day.

‘Hi, Freddie.’ I wrap my arms around my pulled-in knees. ‘Just me again.’

I close my eyes and allow enough silence to imagine him settling himself on the blanket beside me. I feel the weight of his arm around my shoulders and I smile as he buries his face in my neck and wishes me happy birthday. It’s a cold, clear afternoon; I can almost feel the warmth of his body pressing against mine.

‘What would we be doing tonight, do you think?’ I ask him.

He tells me it’s a secret and slow tears roll down my cheeks because I can hear his quiet laughter in the still air around me.

‘God, I miss you.’ It’s such a gaping understatement. ‘I’m okay most of the time. I’m toughing it out, Freddie, I really am. But today …’ I stop, lost for big enough words. ‘It’s just so bloody hard, you know?’ I cover my face with my hands and in my head he gathers me in and tells me that he feels the same, that he finds every day hard without me too.

‘Hey, you.’

I startle at the touch of someone’s hand on my shoulder. Someone real. I look up and find Jonah. He hunkers down on his haunches beside me and looks at me with his dark, gentle eyes.

‘Feel like some company?’

I haven’t seen Jonah since he walked away from me on New Year’s Eve. I’ve started to text him once or twice and deleted my words before I could press ‘send’, and he’s not someone I run into in my day-to-day life. Except for here, it seems.

‘Okay,’ I say, wiping my eyes as I move across to make room for him to share my blanket.

He doesn’t speak for a while, his eyes fixed on Freddie’s gilded name.

‘A year,’ he says eventually.

‘Yes.’ I swallow. ‘A whole year without him.’

‘How’ve you been?’ he asks me. I hear it in his low, unsure tone; he means in the long, cold weeks since New Year.

I nod. ‘Okay, mostly,’ I say. ‘Work’s keeping me busy and Elle’s pregnancy is knocking her about, so I’ve been there quite a lot too.’

It’s not a lie. Elle’s had a really rough time and I’ve been going round to see her after work most days to sit with her until David comes in. I know that wasn’t what Jonah was asking really, but the logistics of my life are all I have to offer.

‘And you?’ I ask him. ‘How’ve you been?’

He lifts one shoulder, a half-hearted shrug. ‘Yeah, you know. School … all the usual stuff.’

I drink some coffee. ‘Dee?’

Jonah pulls blades of grass out of the hard ground one by one. I watch the movement, sharp, deliberate little tugs as he considers his answer.

‘Sometimes,’ he says. ‘We’re taking it slow, seeing what happens. I like her laugh.’

There is more in the words we don’t say than the ones we do. He doesn’t want to tell me things are going well with Dee because he knows I am in such a different place in my life.

Jonah mirrors my position on the blanket, his knees drawn into his chest. He’s dressed in black, probably because it’s his default setting rather than a consciously sombre choice for the day. He’s wearing a navy knitted hat too, and he pulls it off now and shoves it in his coat pocket.

‘I’m sorry, Lyds,’ he says, bleak, staring straight ahead. ‘For New Year. I don’t know what I was saying. I didn’t mean it.’

I study his familiar profile. He’s winter pale and although his high cheekbones have always lent him a classic gauntness, he looks even more so today. His hair is as unruly as ever, his lashes a dark sweep on his cheek as he stares at Freddie’s stone and sighs hard. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so beat.