‘Are you saying the gardener wanders around the house too?’
Jake pursed his lips. Marcus was not calming down.
‘Next you’ll be telling me pretty much the whole damn town has occasion to come to this house.’
Jake sighed. ‘Look, all I’m saying is that the gardener probably comes in here from time to time for a drink. So he goes down in the cellar to switch the electricity on and takes a peek under the dustsheet. He happens to mention it to Robyn, and one thing leads to another … Wouldn’t you be just a little bit intrigued about what sat under that dust sheet? Wouldn’t you take a look?’
‘Yeah,’ Marcus said sourly, knowing Jake was right. He changed tack. ‘So why doesn’t the gardener bring his own coffee – hasn’t he heard of a thermos flask?’
‘Oh, boy.’ Jake sighed heavily. After all that hard graft in the garden, he should not begrudge him the use of the electric, a kettle or a coffee mug.
‘I still think it’s not on,’ Marcus said sulkily. He caught the change in Jake’s expression. ‘What are you grinning at?’
Jake stood across from Marcus, smiling at the dirty dustsheet. A thought had just occurred to him. ‘I think it’s kind of fitting.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘That we stayed in Eleanor’s room.’
Marcus looked down at the dustsheet. ‘I guess so,’ hemurmured. He looked up at Jake. ‘I wonder if she used any of the other rooms’ designs.’ He reached for the dust sheet and started to lift one of the corners.
Jake darted around the doll’s house and came up beside Marcus, putting a hand over his to prevent him from taking another look. ‘Let it go,’ Jake whispered.
Marcus’s eyes narrowed. ‘Willyou?’
They stood facing each other and Jake realised they were talking about something far more significant than the doll’s house. Jake sighed wearily. ‘Look, whatever happened after the avalanche, when Eleanor and I were buried in the snow up there, you need to just let it go.’ Jake tried to make his voice sound as reasonable as possible for both their sakes because this was liable to turn into a shouting match – or worse.
‘What doyouthink happened?’ Marcus spat. ‘No wait. How stupid of me,’ Marcus tapped his temple, ‘I don’t need to ask you that question becauseyou’ve already written it down for posterity, haven’t you Jake?’
The word on that memorial stone was coming back to haunt Jake. ‘Look, about that, I …’
‘Yeah, what about that? According to you I made a choice up there and now I can’t live with it. Is that it, Jake?’
Yes, that is it, thought Jake. They had been buried in the snow, and Marcus had chosen to leave his sister to dig Jake out first, with catastrophic results. To cope with what he’d done, making that choice, Marcus had built a fence, a wall, a subconscious lie to screen himself from the awful truth – the awful realisation in those vital seconds after the accident that he could not save them both. He had been forced to choose between them – a choice which would condemn the other. Marcus had needed to believe, for his own sanity, that someone else was there, someone else had made that choice, not him. That was the lie.
A miniscule part of Jake felt that perhaps if it had been the other way round, if he had been in Marcus’s shoes on that fateful day, he would have wanted to do the same.
‘And now you’re telling me to let it go,’ Marcus said in an accusing tone. ‘Well, I’m not the one having nightmares – am I?’
Jake stared at the doll’s house. He wanted to tell Marcus that he finally understood. For the first time since the accident, Jake felt that he might just be able to forgive Marcus. He looked up, but Marcus was already heading back up the stairs.
The moment was lost.
Jake tucked in the corner of the dustsheet and followed Marcus back up the steps. At the top, he switched off the cellar light and stood for a moment in the gloomy darkness. He’d never known this house to be so still, so silent. It almost felt that with Eleanor gone, the house, like Jake, was still mourning her loss.
Jake swung the cellar door open, expecting to find Marcus waiting for him in the hall. He wasn’t. Jake shut the door, glanced in the kitchen and then strode up the hallway towards the front door, guessing Marcus had gone back to the car.
He guessed wrong.
Jake walked down the grassy bank and entered the gap between the hedges. He stopped at the entrance and looked in; Marcus wasn’t standing there as he had expected. Jake walked in, his attention focused on the memorial stone. He kept being drawn back to this place – he was making up for lost time, for all those visits he knew he should have made over the past few months but had not. Jake stood in front of the flowers, staring at the memorial stone, relieved that Marcus hadn’t come. He didn’t want to talk to Marcus there, in front of this.
‘The flowers are nice.’
Startled, Jake whirled around to see Marcus sitting on the bench set into the hedge.
‘Didn’t expect to see me here, did you?’ Marcus gestured withhis hand for Jake to step aside. ‘You’re blocking my view.’
‘I’m what?’
