Postscript(35)

‘That’s Gerry,’ she says.

‘That’s him.’

‘He’s handsome.’

‘He was. And he knew it. Best-looking boy in the class,’ I say, smiling. ‘I met him in school.’

‘I know, when you were fourteen,’ she says, continuing to study his photograph. Her eyes move to the single framed photograph of Gabriel and me, on the mantelpiece.

‘Who’s he?’

‘My boyfriend, Gabriel.’

I stalled the house viewings during the two weeks while I recuperated but this week viewings have resumed. I usually remove all the photographs when prospective buyers are visiting the house. I’m private by nature, despite spilling my experiences of grief over a podcast, and prefer not to have people snooping through my personal items. If Ginika is this invasive before my very eyes, then I can’t imagine what people do when I’m not here. I make a note to hide more things in better places.

‘He’s different,’ she says, her eyes moving from Gabriel to Gerry.

‘Polar opposites,’ I agree, joining her in the living room, sensing she’s going to take her time.

She examines Gabriel closely, then her eyes run slowly over Gerry. Comparison is natural, I suppose, I’m not the only one who does it.

‘In what way?’

I’m not in the mood to analyse Gabriel right now. ‘Gabriel’s much taller,’ I say with a sigh.

‘That’s it?’ She arches an eyebrow.

‘And older.’

‘Moving.’ Dissatisfied with my response, she looks around to continue her inspection.

‘It’s late,’ I say, leading her to the dining table again. ‘When does Jewel sleep?’

‘When we get home.’

‘That will be late,’ I say, concerned.

‘We always go to bed at the same time.’

‘Do you want to put her down while we work? I can get a blanket. She’s not crawling yet, is she?’

‘No. I have a baby mat in my bag but she’s OK for the time being.’

Gabriel noticed during our first dates that I kept my jacket on when I was nervous. He said he knew he could stop worrying about me leaving as soon as my jacket came off. I never noticed that, I always thought I was just cold, that my body needed a moment to adjust to the restaurant’s temperature, but he was right, it was my need to adjust to the entire situation. We had to work towards that first reveal, which I suppose is how relationships go; at some point you both feel safe enough to remove a layer, reveal a little more. For Ginika, I can see that Jewel is her jacket, her security blanket. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without her in her arms and never with a buggy.

She expertly removes her baby bag from across her body while holding Jewel and walks slowly towards the dining table, eyeing it distrustfully as if it’s a ticking time bomb. I can tell she’s nervous, trying to put the moment off.

‘Are you left-handed or right-handed?’ I haven’t been able to judge, Ginika has been so adept at managing everything with both hands as she switches a busy Jewel from one hip to the other.

‘Right. Maybe I should try my left. Maybe that was the problem.’ She laughs, nervously.

I examine her for differences since I last saw her. I expected her to have lost weight but she is bloated, probably from the drugs.

‘First off, the best advice I can give you is that I could help you find a tutor.’ I’d looked into it. I’m far from having extras in my wallet but I could subsidise a lesson a week if I cut back on unnecessary online shopping spends. ‘They’d know exactly what they’re doing and could speed the process up.’

‘No. I prefer you. I’ll work really hard. I promise.’

‘I don’t doubt you at all, it’s me I’m worried about.’

‘Holly,’ she says, wide-eyed, ‘I only want to write a fucking letter. We can do this.’ She claps her hands encouragingly.

I smile, buoyed by her enthusiasm.

Jewel imitates by clapping her hands.

‘Good girl!’ Ginika laughs. ‘Clap handies!’

‘Do you want to put her down?’

I can tell the answer is no by the look on her face.

‘I bought her a little light reading too, to keep her occupied.’ I hand her My First Book, a soft padded-page book for babies. Jewel takes it in her chubby hands, her eyes wide and immediately stimulated by the apple on the front.

‘A-a-apple,’ I say to Jewel.

‘A-a-a,’ she repeats.

Ginika’s eyes widen. ‘See? You can do it. I’ve always wanted to read her a book. I can only look at the pictures and make the stories up.’

‘I think you’ll find that’s what most kids want. They like improvisation.’

‘Did you want to have children?’

I pause. ‘Yes. We did.’

‘Why didn’t you?’

‘We were going to start trying just before they found the tumour.’

‘Fuck.’

‘What about you?’

‘Did I want children?’ she says, amused.

‘I mean, was she planned or …?’

‘Did I plan to get pregnant at fifteen and have a baby at sixteen? No, Holly, I didn’t. It was a one-night stupid mistake. When my ma and da found out, they wanted nothing to do with me. I brought shame on our family.’ She rolls her eyes.