‘Upset? Is that because she’s feeling guilty for her part in this?’
‘She wasn’t there, Mel. She ended things with Noah in November.’
‘Yeah, and that’ll have broken his heart. Probably made him do what he did.’ I knew it was a low blow, laying the blame on Jessie, and clearly Guy thought so too.
He took a step closer to me, his voice low. ‘She ended it because he’d changed. Your son’s drug habit hadnothingto do with Jessie so don’t even think about spreading rumours that it did.’
I winced at the wordhabit. Nobody knew I’d found those pills in Noah’s bedroom – not even Flynn – so what right did Guy have to suggest it was habitual rather than a fatal one-off?
‘Don’t bother coming back to the pub,’ I said, my tone harsh. ‘We don’t need your keeping-up-appearances sympathy.’
* * *
‘I’m going to bed,’ I said, heading for the stairs as soon as Flynn and I returned to The Bothy after the wake.
‘It’s only seven.’
‘It’s been a long day.’
‘You haven’t eaten anything,’ Flynn called after me.
‘I’m not hungry.’
In the bedroom I’d only got as far as removing my jacket when the door opened.
‘We need to talk,’ Flynn said.
‘Not now. I’m tired.’
‘So am I, but this can’t wait. What’s going on with you?’ His tone was gentle but it did nothing to soothe me.
I tossed my jacket onto the bed and stared at him, incredulous. ‘What’s going on with me? You’re seriously asking me that? It was our son’s funeral today in case you didn’t notice and I hated every single minute of it because it shouldn’t have happened.That’swhat’s going on with me.’
‘You don’t need to shout and you know that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m worried about you, Mel. This obsession with finding out what happened isn’t helping anything.’
‘It’s helping me.’
‘How? You’ve fallen out with Helen and Guy and had a go at Jessie. You’ve trashed Noah’s room. You even shouted at his friends and accused them of being drug dealers in the middle of the wake.’
‘Caused a scene, did I? Embarrassed everyone there?’
I hadn’t been able to help myself. I saw them and I kept telling myself that it wasn’t the time or the place but a few glasses of wine later and it felt like the only time and place I’d get the opportunity to speak to them. Except I hadn’t spoken. I’d yelled accusations at them.
‘I didn’t say that,’ Flynn said, his voice still gentle. ‘You say it’s helping you. Can I ask how?’
‘I need answers.’
‘We have answers.’
‘No, we don’t. How can you be so accepting of this?’
‘It’s not about accepting it. It’s about drawing a line and knowing that, even if we did find the person who gave him the drugs, it wouldn’t make a difference. Noah would still have taken the drugs and he’d still be dead. So why torture ourselves further when we’re already going through hell?’
‘You don’t understand.’
‘I’m trying to.’ He sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the duvet beside him. ‘Please talk to me. Help me understand.’
Deep down, I knew that I needed to sit down, hold Flynn, and let the grief pour out in tears, but I couldn’t seem to.
