Postscript (P.S. I Love You #2)(71)

Claire won’t embrace her husband, her body language is cold.

‘What the hell are you two doing?’ She looks at me. ‘Who the hell are you? What are you doing with my husband?’

‘This is Holly, honey,’ he says in a warning tone. ‘Look at me. This is Holly. She’s a friend of Joy’s, she’s a member of the book club.’

Claire looks me up and down, and I can’t look her in the eye. This situation is awful, it’s what I feared. I even hate me. If I had found Gerry sitting in a car with another woman, a week before a big operation, after giving my life to his care, I’d have wanted to strangle them both. This is not good.

‘You said you were getting toys for the kids in Smyths,’ Claire says. ‘You’re not even supposed to be driving, but I let you go. I’ve been so worried, I’ve been calling you. I have a class now, I had to call Mum to mind the kids. Jesus, Paul what are you doing? And why have you got your dad’s old car?’

The frustration is steaming from her. I’m on her side.

‘I’m sorry, I forgot about your class. I’ll go straight home and mind the kids, your mum can go home. And you’re right, I shouldn’t have driven. I met Holly in Smyths, I didn’t feel well and I asked if she’d mind driving me home. Nothing serious, just a headache and a little dizzy, but I didn’t trust myself to get behind the wheel so I was showing her how it works, that’s all.’

He speaks too fast, it’s hard to believe but also difficult to interrupt and argue with. Claire looks at me. I take a step away, ready to leave.

‘She was helping me out, that’s all.’ Paul looks at me. ‘Doing me a huge favour. Isn’t that right?’

I look at him. ‘Yeah.’

There’s no way that Paul is out of the woods yet but I’m not sticking around for it. I will not be made a liar, or a cheat.

‘It was nice to meet you, Claire,’ I say apologetically, feeling self-conscious about my tone, my words, my expression, my stance. ‘Make sure you get home safely, Paul,’ I say stonily.

I signed up to this to help, not to be the lie, not to be the punching bag. Even if that does help him, each hit bruises me.

By the end of my work day, I feel like I’ve reached the point of exhaustion as I sit at the table with Ginika. We’re blending, running all the sounds together to make the word. I set up a sun umbrella so we could sit outside with bees dancing noisily around us feasting themselves on Richard’s colourful additions. The garden furniture has been dusted off, sanded and varnished, in time for the two-week heatwave that’s upon us. Denise is on a blanket with Jewel, rolling around, singing and laughing, pointing out birds and bees and flowers, while Jewel’s tiny pudgy forefinger is in constant pointing mode.

Her favourite word is ‘wow’ and right now, the whole world is wow.

‘Look, Jewel, an aeroplane!’ Denise says, lying on her back and pointing up at the sky, at the lone airplane streaking across the blue sky, leaving a trail of white behind it.

‘Wow,’ says Jewel, ready with her pointing finger.

While Denise opens Jewel’s eyes to the world around her, I am grateful for the equally attentive Ginika, who has been seriously keeping her side of the bargain. Whatever reckless kind of student she claims to have been in school, she certainly isn’t that now. Dedicated, punctual, prepared, she is pouring her heart and soul into her literacy like her life depends on it.

‘S-h—’

‘Those two letters go together, sound them together.’ I put my finger over my lips to give her a hint.

‘Sh,’ she says, and I grin, happily, proudly.

‘Sh-i-t.’ She sounds them out separately. She frowns and says it again. ‘Shit,’ she says suddenly, realising, then looks up at me. ‘Shit.’

I grin.

‘I wish my school had been more like this,’ she says, laughing.

‘Next word.’

‘F-u-ck. Fuck. Fuck!’ she laughs.

‘Next one.’

‘P-ai-n. Pain.’

‘Yes!’ I punch the air. ‘A and I go together, you didn’t separate their sounds.’ I hold my hand up for a high-five.

She rolls her eyes and gives me a weak high-five, embarrassed by the praise. ‘You are such a dork. Shit, Fuck and Pain,’ she reads. ‘What kind of shitty mood are you in?’

‘Some words have an irregular spelling and can’t be read by blending,’ I continue, ignoring her question.

Ginika tuts.

‘I know, there’s always something to throw at us just as we’re getting the hang of it.’

‘Like cancer.’

‘Ginika!’

She laughs wickedly.

‘Unfortunately, many of these words are common words and we call these tricky words.’

Ginika rolls her eyes. She rolls up her sleeves. ‘Right. Let me at the bastards.’

I smile. ‘For example. This word,’ I write it down. ‘Normally we would read this as …’

‘L-a-u-g-h,’ Ginika sounds it out with the g and h sound. ‘What the hell does that mean?’

‘Perfect,’ I smile.

‘I got it right?’

‘You got it right and wrong. It’s a tricky word so it’s actually pronounced laugh. The GH has an f sound.’