Postscript(74)

‘I’m sorry if I did the wrong thing. I promise I won’t contact your dad again.’

‘You did the wrong thing,’ she agrees, sucking her lollipop. ‘But it was a nice thing, if not a bit fucking pointless.’

Before the wall goes up, I continue. ‘I was thinking of Jewel, of her future, of where she’ll live and who will provide a life for her. I know you have a foster family, but perhaps there are guardians you know who could care for her. You’re fully in control of that, you know, you’d just need to add it to your …’

‘What?’

‘Your will.’

Her eyes narrow. ‘Have you anyone in mind?’

‘I mean, I …’ I stall. It’s a vulnerable time in her life, I don’t want to be accused of undue influence, not over something as important as this. I sidetrack. ‘Well, her dad for one. Does he know about what’s going on? About Jewel? That you’re sick?’

She glares at me.

‘Sorry.’ I back off. ‘I thought we were having a moment.’

‘You’re having a flippin’ breakdown moment, is what you’re having. Let’s get back to work.’

We open the books and pick up where we left off.

‘Do you ever wish your husband wrote you different letters?’ she asks suddenly in the middle of writing the word love over and over. I’m choosing words that I know she’ll need for her letter to Jewel.

I tense up. ‘What do you mean?’

‘What I said,’ she says bluntly.

‘No.’

‘Liar.’

Irritated, I let her comment pass.

‘Do you know what you’re going to write in your letter yet?’ I ask.

‘I’m working on it,’ she says, head down and concentrating again on her cursive writing. Now it’s: dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear. ‘I know I don’t want it to be anything like Paul’s though,’ she adds when the line is complete.

‘Why not?’ I ask, surprised.

‘Are you serious?’ She eyeballs me again. ‘Paul has every second of his kids’ lives all sewn up, by the sounds of it. Their birthdays, their driving lessons, their weddings, their first days of school, the first day they wipe their own arses. It’s like he thinks he can see exactly who they’re going to be. But what if they’re not that person? I know Jewel better than anyone in the whole wide world. But even I don’t know what she’ll do five minutes from now, never mind tomorrow. It’ll be weird for them, you know?’ She shudders at the thought of their futures. ‘So that’s why I asked you about your husband’s letters. Maybe he got something wrong, that didn’t suit you after he died.’

She’s looking at me again. Her words have hit me with impact and my mind is racing.

‘Because if there’s a letter you didn’t like or something, you should probably tell Paul – not that he’d listen, Mr I Can Do This All By Myself. What is it with the men? Him and Bert. If they wanted their letters delivered, they should’ve hired a courier service. Me? I really need your help.’

‘I don’t know, Ginika,’ I sigh, everything unravelling again. ‘I sometimes wonder who’s teaching who here.’





32


The next day I have another session with Paul, our final one before his surgery. I’m not in the best of moods, particularly after how yesterday’s driving lesson ended. I’m missing a Sunday roast in my parents’ house and I’m a little resentful of that despite the fact I’m relieved I don’t have to answer to them about my break-up with Gabriel and my involvement in the club, about how I’m ruining Paul’s marriage, as opposed to cherishing it. I can only imagine what Ciara is telling them. I’ve chosen to be here but still feel contrary about missing out on my life, as though Paul should know what I’m sacrificing for him.

He’s sheepish when he arrives. ‘I’m sorry about yesterday. Claire believed me, if that makes you feel any better.’

‘It doesn’t,’ I snap. ‘I didn’t even want to come here today.’

‘I was afraid you wouldn’t.’

‘What happened yesterday goes against everything that I’m trying to achieve. I don’t want to lie to your wife. I don’t want her to hate me. I don’t want to ruin anything, the object is to give her a gift, not a nightmare. I’m supposed to be invisible, not the cause of a problem.’

‘I promise, Holly, it won’t happen again. I won’t lie; if anything, I’ll tell her the truth.’

‘If you don’t, I will,’ I say firmly.

‘Understood.’

I breathe out, feeling a little better. ‘OK, let’s finish this.’

The ‘PS, I Love You initiative’ as I phrased it in our communications, managed to come to an agreeable decision with Donard Castle, a fifteenth-century castle that was family-owned until fifty years ago and is now a popular event venue. Today they are hosting a wedding reception and while the couple are in a nearby chapel saying their vows, Paul and I have permission to utilise their fully furnished and decorated reception room to film his pieces for Eva.

His father of the bride speech.

When he shared the idea with me some time ago I was moved, but today, standing at Eva’s faux-wedding, I’m agitated. After Ginika’s pearls of wisdom yesterday, I haven’t been able to shake the question about Gerry’s letters. Were they all helpful? Did he get anything wrong? Alarm bells are ringing. Am I getting it wrong? It’s not just about holding the camera, making a film; I was put into this position by the PS, I Love You Club because of my own personal experience. I can offer Paul more and I haven’t been.