‘Well, that’s good. I was starting to think it was a whole Sarah Jessica-Parker/Kim Cattrall situation and you’d just gone off us!’
‘I can call in a favour at work and get you an appointment with Dr Thomas on Monday,’ Alice announced, springing into action and pulling out her phone. ‘He’s one of the best psychiatrists in the country.’
‘A psychiatrist? So, you think I’m crazy?’ My voice was sharp,defensive.
‘Of course not,’ Alice said quickly, her thumbs pausing their furious typing to throw me a reassuring look. ‘But hallucinations are a psychological symptom, Jenny. After an initial assessment, Dr Thomas will be able to put together a treatment plan for you to help stop the visions.’
I fiddled with my fingers some more, my eyes falling once again on Joe’sStar Warsmug.
‘What if I don’t want them to stop?’ I whispered, almost afraid to admit it. But it was the truth. The very thought of not seeing Joe again, real or otherwise, was enough to make me want to curl up into a ball and never emerge. Jacob’s hand came to rest on my jittering knee.
‘Jenny, you know that it’s not real, right? Joe’s gone.’ His words were gentle, careful, as though he were afraid of saying the wrong thing.
‘I know that,’ I snapped, getting to my feet and pacing about the room. And I did know. Deep, deep down. In a place I didn’t allow myself to think about very often, because I feared what might happen if I did. That I’d wake up one day and Joe would just be – gone. I turned sharply, cursing as the loose oversized hem of Joe’s t-shirt caught against Jacob’s wine glass, spilling the contents over the floor.
‘I’ll get it!’ Jacob jumped to his feet, disappearing into the kitchen in search of a towel and a much-needed breather from the tension-filled room.
‘Mum doesn’t know,’ I confessed, in aplease don’t tell herkind of voice as I completed yet another lap around the coffee table.
‘Obviously I won’t tell her,’ Alice snorted, in answer to my unspoken plea, her tone uncharacteristically flustered. ‘She’s already worried enough about you as it is, without throwing this into the mix.’
Guilt knotted my stomach, tugging at my heartstrings. I watched Alice pick at the skin around her thumb, her anxious tic that was normally reserved for the morning of exams or the day Taylor Swift tickets were released.
‘Have you been to Joe’s exhibition yet?’
I paused my pacing, her question throwing me off guard. What did that have to do with anything?
‘I thought as much,’ Alice continued, without even waiting for my answer. ‘Jacob and I went the other week,’ she admitted, her eyes briefly flitting to her lap as though trying to hide her own sadness from me. ‘It was—’ she let out a breath, a full kaleidoscope of emotion flashing across her face, unzipping a slow smile from one corner of her mouth to the other, ‘—you should go, Jenny. I think it would really help you.’
‘Err, Jenny, what is this?’ Jacob’s voice floated through from the kitchen.
‘Just help yourself to anything that’s in the fridge,’ I called back, grateful for the change in conversation. ‘I think there’s a batch of Mum’s sausage rolls in the tin on top of the—’
‘One step ahead of you, sister.’ Jacob appeared in the doorway, battered McVitie’s tin wedged firmly under one arm. ‘But I was talking about this.’
I stopped pacing and eyed the crumpled rectangle of paper Jacob was waving about with his non-sausage-roll-filled hand. It had caught me off guard the other night, stuck smack bang in the middle of the fridge door between Mum’s Venice and Mallorca holiday magnets, demanding my attention when all I wanted was some milk. The insurance cheque. I’d crumpled it into a tiny ball, throwing it in the bin in the hope I’d never have to see it again. Clearly the universe had other ideas.
‘It’s nothing.’
Jacob guffawed. ‘I wouldn’t call £100,000 nothing.’
Alice’s head snapped up from her phone and she skipped overtowards Jacob, plucking the cheque straight out of his hands.
‘Hey!’
‘Jenny, what the fuck is this?’ Alice gawped, her eyes boggling as they took in all the zeros.
I fidgeted awkwardly with the hem of Joe’s t-shirt. ‘It’s Joe’s insurance payout,’ I mumbled, ashamed to admit that I’d financially benefitted from Joe’s death.
‘Why is it all crumpled? Andwhatis that smell?’ Alice’s nose scrunched with revulsion as she inspected the piece of paper dangling between her thumb and forefinger, intent on touching as little of the soiled cheque as humanly possible.
I shrugged noncommittally. ‘I just haven’t got round to cashing it yet.’ Telling them I’d literally thrown £100,000 in the bin probably wouldn’t help with the whole proving-I-wasn’t-crazy argument.
‘Yet. So, you are going to cash it, then?’ Alice asked, her eyes narrowed.
‘Yes.’
No.
