‘Doubtful,’ Flynn said, ‘but I can try. Can I suggest we open the bottle first in case we break the corkscrew on the door and we can’t get out but we can’t have a drink either?’
‘Okay.’
The corkscrew didn’t work on the door but Flynn admitted it had been worth a try. He offered me the first drink so I took a tentative sip just in case it was rank, but it was actually delicious. I didn’t drink red wine very often but, if I did, I liked it to be really smooth like this. I took a bigger glug and handed the bottle to Flynn.
We returned to the chaise, passing the wine back and forth. With no food to soak up the alcohol, it went straight to our heads and the conversation soon moved away from the happy childhood anecdotes to our split.
‘Why was it so important to you to find out what happened?’ Flynn asked after he returned from the wine cellar with a second bottle.
How many times had I asked myself that same question over the years?
‘It didn’t tally,’ I said. ‘Noah and drugs, I mean. Why? Since when? I needed answers.’
He was silent for a while and I took another glug.
‘I think there’s more to it than that,’ he said, his voice gentle. ‘Come on, Mel, just tell me.’
I shook my head, my heart pounding as I fixed my eyes on the floor. I wanted to tell him. I wanted to explain, but could I bear to say the words?
He gently raised my chin. ‘Please, Mel. I know there’s something.’
My lips trembled as my biggest fear threatened to overwhelm me. I thought I’d unleashed everything that had been building up inside me but it felt like there was more to come and another kind word from Flynn would break me again.
‘Don’t,’ I whispered, tears trailing down my cheeks, but I could understand why he wouldn’t want to leave it.
‘Whatever it is, it made you run and stay away and it’s still eating away at you, isn’t it?’ His voice was so tender, so encouraging. ‘I’m right here and I’m listening.’
‘It’s my fault!’ I cried, springing to my feet. ‘It’s my fault Noah died.’
‘How?’
‘Because I was too consumed by my work to notice that our son was spiralling.’
Flynn jumped up, shaking his head. ‘No! You can’t blame yourself for that.’
My cloak slipped to the floor as I raked my fingers into my hair, clutching a bunch in each hand. ‘I can and I do. I should have known he’d lost touch with his friends, broken up with Jessie and was failing at college. There’d have been signs and I missed them all.’
Flynn gently eased my hands out of my hair and held them between his. ‘So did I, but I’m not blaming myself.’
‘But you weren’t at home as often as me,’ I cried, pulling my hands from his grasp and pacing up and down as I ranted. ‘I worked there. I was in the house with him so often and I was completely oblivious to everything going on in his life. I should have picked up on something. I should have realised. My fault.’
I sank back down onto the chaise, my energy zapped, silent tears dripping onto my T-shirt. I’d finally said it. I’d said the words out loud that had haunted me for all these years.
Flynn sat down beside me and put his arm around me.
‘Have I got this right?’ he asked. ‘You became fixated on finding the truth because you were trying to ease your own conscience?’
‘Something like that.’
‘I couldn’t disagree more strongly. It wasn’t your fault, Mel. You did nothing wrong. Noah was eighteen. He spent most of his time shut away in his room and he kept things from us, just like most teenagers. I don’t blame you and you shouldn’t blame yourself and do you know what? If Noah was here, he wouldn’t blame you either.’
His voice cracked and he released a deep shuddery breath. I felt his pain at my revelation and slipped my hand into his.
‘I should have been honest with you back then,’ I said.
‘What stopped you?’
‘Fear that you’d agree with me.’
