‘Someone knows something,’ I said, my voice sounding cold and distant.
‘Mel. Please. Sit down and talk to me.’
I removed my necklace – a delicate silver chain from Noah for my fortieth birthday – and turned my back against Flynn as I gently placed it inside my jewellery box, fighting hard not to unleash the cruel words circling round my mind.You obviously don’t care. If you cared, you’d want answers. What sort of father doesn’t want to know who killed his son?
I heard him rise from the bed and cross the bedroom, stopping near me. I thought he was going to touch me, although I prayed he wouldn’t because I felt so tense I knew I’d shake him off.
‘Mel? Please look at me.’
Reluctantly, I shuffled round and tilted my head to meet his gaze.
‘Why don’t we get away for a bit?’ he said, his voice soft.
‘On holiday?’ I asked, shocked he could even suggest such a thing.
‘Not a holiday. Just some time off to go somewhere on our own. A remote Scottish island, perhaps. Somewhere we can relax and find some peace.’
‘We’ve cremated our only child today and you want to go on holiday? What’s wrong with you?’
‘It wouldn’t be like that,’ he insisted. ‘I just think we need some space from all this.’
I wasn’t listening to him. I heardholidayand a montage of all our family holidays filled my mind – sunshine, laughter, love. How could he possibly think a holiday was appropriate right now? Had he ticked offfuneralon a list of things to do and now it was theresume lifepart? Resume life, take a holiday, return world to axis.
Then out it all came – everything I’d tried to keep buried. I accused Flynn of not caring and never loving our son or me, of being more concerned about keeping up appearances than finding answers. As I ranted and raged at him, a little voice in my head was telling me I’d got it all wrong but there was an angrier louder voice refusing to listen. I shouted, paced, gesticulated and Flynn just stood there, letting me pour it all out. He didn’t get angry, he didn’t try to defend himself and I took that as proof that he really didn’t care.
When I finally ran out of steam, Flynn reached his arms out as though to draw me into a hug but I backed away, hissing that I didn’t want him to touch me. That I never wanted him to touch me again. I’d never seen him look so hurt. Mumbling something about needing some fresh air, he left the room and, moments later, I heard the front door slam and his car start.
I dashed to the window and watched him pull out of the close. It tore me apart that I’d hurt him like that. Those words had been cruel, designed to sting, and they’d certainly done that and, at that moment, I knew that if I stayed it would happen again. And again. And again. Because I needed to lash out at someone. I needed someone to pay for taking my only child away from me. Flynn wasn’t to blame but my anger would find a way to turn on him. So I needed to leave too. It would only be for a while – just until I found my answers and the red mist lifted.
It wouldn’t be forever.
22
SIX AND A HALF YEARS AGO
The evening following Noah’s funeral had been the start of the end for Flynn and me. One night away turned into three but the time apart didn’t resolve anything. The anger still burned inside me.
I knew I couldn’t hide from Flynn forever. We ran a business together and our clients had been extremely understanding but we had to return to work.To normality.It was a phrase I’d heard a lot from my parents and from Georgia. Normality? Nothing about my life would ever be normal again.
I might have physically returned to The Bothy and to Flynn but I never did emotionally. We didn’t talk about me leaving. We didn’t talk about much at all, although that wasn’t for want of trying on Flynn’s part. I had no idea how to be around him anymore, resentment towards him constantly bubbling beneath the surface. I was irritable all the time, picking fights over anything and everything. Flynn wouldn’t bite, which angered me even more. How could he be so calm? How could he possibly be taking all of this in his stride instead of stomping about in a rage demanding answers?
Even work – my absolute passion – didn’t excite me. I spent hours sitting in front of my drawing board or at my computer just staring into space, trying to make sense of what had happened and why it had happened to us.
I became convinced that Jessie knew more than she was letting on. She and Noah had been best friends for several years before they became a couple and I’d spent enough time around them to know they told each other everything. I’d always loved seeing them deep in conversation. It warmed my heart that he had someone special to whom he was comfortable chatting for hours.
Flynn was out on site each day, but my work was predominantly home-based. My office was at the front of The Bothy in one of the spare bedrooms and I became fixated on Jessie’s movements to and from The Byre. She was in her first year of sixth form and none of the students had lessons on Wednesday afternoons. Jessie cycled home at lunchtime and, with Helen and Guy out at work, she was in the house on her own. It was the perfect opportunity to have a word.
The first time, a few weeks after Noah’s funeral, I was really polite.I’m so sorry to ask you again but sometimes we just need a bit of space to focus. I don’t suppose you’ve thought of anything else that would help me understand what happened to Noah.She didn’t. She was sorry. She’d let me know if anything came to mind.
The following week, I’d made a few careless mistakes with my work which had been humiliating as well as costing a lot of time to resolve. Inevermade mistakes so I wasn’t in the best frame of mind when I rapped on the knocker at The Byre. Jessie’s face fell when she saw it was me.There’s nothing else to tell you.So I told her exactly what I thought of that. She slammed the door in my face.
I was on tenterhooks that evening, expecting Helen or Guy to pound on our door and demand that I stop harassing their daughter. When they didn’t, I concluded she couldn’t have told them which, to my mind, confirmed my belief that Jessie knew more than she was letting on.
The Wednesday after, I tried again. I was so driven by my need to find answers that I never paused to think about how unreasonable my behaviour was or how it might be affecting Jessie. She shouted from the entrance hall that she wasn’t going to answer the door and I’d better leave or she’d call the police. Not at all intimidated by her threat, I pushed open the letterbox.
‘Youhaveto know something, Jessie. You two were inseparable. Noahmusthave told you what was going on with him.’
Next minute, she yanked open the door, almost trapping my fingers in the letterbox.
