Читать книгу The Day I Lost You: A heartfelt, emotion-packed, twist-filled read - Fionnuala Kearney - Страница 13

He was up hours before anyone else, had mopped the kitchen floor and made a picnic of sorts before there was a sound from Finn’s bedroom. Bea was, as always at the weekends, sleeping in. The food he had prepared was wrapped in foil and packed in a picnic box he’d found in the garage. A tall flask of coffee completed his efforts.

When Finn appeared, his laptop in his hand, Theo was standing on his head in the furthest corner of the kitchen.

‘Morning, son.’

‘You are so weird,’ Finn said through a stretched yawn. He removed a bowl from a cupboard and shook a box of cornflakes at it, poured half a pint of milk over it and went to take a place on the sofa in the den watching television. ‘Why do you even do that?’ he asked, glancing back over his shoulder.

‘Helps me think. Sometimes when things feel a bit upside down, it’s good to look at them this way.’

‘Yeah, right.’

‘Don’t get too comfortable. We’re going out.’ Theo lowered his legs and tucked them to his chest before rolling onto his knees.

Finn groaned. ‘It’s Sunday.’

‘So it is. Lots of people are up and going to church. Lots of people are up walking their dogs. We’re going to the beach.’

His son rolled his eyes, then peered at him over the top of his raised bowl. ‘The beach. In February.’

‘Yes.’

‘Why? It’s freezing.’

‘Because we can. Now shift your butt up to the shower. We should go soon.’

‘I really don’t want to go to the beach, Dad.’

‘No, Finn, you think you don’t want to go to the beach. I can promise you when you get there, you’ll want to be there.’

‘You don’t need to do this, you know.’ Finn spoke with a mouthful of cornflakes.

‘Don’t speak when you’re eating.’

‘This father-son crap.’

‘Finn!’

‘Really, Dad? You say “crap” all the time … I don’t get this sudden … this sudden need to spend time together.’

Theo swallowed hard. ‘My wanting to spend time with you is hardly sudden. We always spend Sundays together. We used to—’

‘We used to do lots of things together when Mum was here, yes.’ Finn had walked away.

‘And what, we should stop that because she’s not?’ Theo stood at the door to the den and tried hard to keep his voice from rising.

‘Yes,’ his son nodded, and opened up his laptop to his world of Minecraft. ‘We should.’

Theo left the room, walked slowly upstairs to his bedroom. He pulled the bedclothes up, picked yesterday’s jeans off a nearby tub chair and hung them in the wardrobe. Next to them, a jumper of Harriet’s hung on a hanger. He tugged it towards him, lowered his face and inhaled her scent. It wasn’t perfume, but the body lotion she wore, and it lingered in all her clothes. Coconut and spiced orange. He dropped the sleeve and grabbed his coat from another hanger. Downstairs he took a hat and gloves from the coat rack near the hall door. ‘I’ll be back in a bit,’ he called into Finn and closed the front door behind him.

In between his and the next-door neighbour’s house was a path. Just wide enough for two people, it led into public woodland. Theo breathed in, blew his breath out in circles. It was cold. A thin dusting of icing-sugar-like frost lay on the ground. The only sounds around on a quiet Sunday morning were those of his heart beating and his shoe soles crunching underfoot. He shoved his gloved hands deep inside his pockets and quickened his pace. This area of green, the walking space, the rural feel of it, in what was otherwise a suburban area, only a few miles from Guildford town centre, was why he and Harriet had settled here. He pulled his phone from his pocket, removed one glove and, without thinking about it, jabbed his wife’s number with his thumb.

‘Theo, everything okay?’

He did love her voice; it was one of the first things he had fallen in love with. She was softly spoken, her expression gentle, a voice that wrapped you up in a blanket. It was something he had seen her use powerfully when in work, lulling her opposition into a false sense of security.

He put his glove back on, stopped walking, and held the phone to his ear.

‘Everything’s fine,’ he said.

‘You sound out of breath.’

‘Just out for a walk. Look, I called because … I have these papers.’ Theo looked skywards towards the slate-grey cloud cover through the canopy of trees. ‘I know you’re not coming back, Harriet. I think I just want to hear you say it.’

There was a silence which made Theo wonder if she was alone.

‘I’m not planning on coming back, Theo.’

His eyes blinked closed. He lowered his neck into his coat, shivered. ‘Right.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Me too. I didn’t fight for you.’ He listened to the sound of clothes rustling, imagined her getting out of bed, moving to another room in her new flat. ‘Separation documents. That’s what they are. They’re not divorce papers and I need to know if I should be moving on with my life. I’m in limbo. We’re in limbo here.’

‘It’s a separation, like we agreed.’

‘I know, but it’s not really, is it? You’re not coming back. It’s the first stage in the process.’

‘Are you all right, Theo?’ Harriet’s voice was edged with concern.

‘I will be,’ he replied honestly. ‘I just wish …’

‘No, no you don’t.’ She sighed loudly. ‘It’s hard, but you don’t wish – you don’t wish this was different. You don’t wish I was coming back. We are broken.’

The wind was high. He wiped his left eye, which had begun to water, with the back of his hand.

‘It’s the truth, Theo,’ she continued.

Theo bent down on his hunkers, clutched his knees with his free hand. The words of her last sentence entered his brain, rolled around like a spin cycle in a washing machine. Faced with them, he couldn’t deny them. ‘Would you mind coming and taking the rest of your clothes?’ he asked. ‘That body lotion of yours hangs around.’

She was silent.

‘Harriet?’ He stood up again, stretched tall. ‘You there?’

‘I’m here. I’m sorry, I could take them when I pick Finn up Friday?’

‘No. Don’t do that. Finn going to yours for the first time with a boot full of your clothes wouldn’t be a good idea.’

‘You’re right. Sorry.’

Theo turned back towards the house. ‘Stop apologizing, Harriet. If we really are both to move on, we have to find the best way forward for him. I’m not sure we’ve figured that out yet.’

‘No, but it’ll come. We have to stick together where he’s concerned.’

He nodded to a dog walker coming towards him.

‘Are you in the woods?’ Harriet asked.

‘Yeah.’

‘I miss them.’

Theo laughed. ‘I’m trying not to resent that remark.’

‘I miss you too. Of course I do. I’m not in love with you any more, Theo, but I will always love you.’

He felt sure he’d heard that line before – some movie or television drama; perhaps a song.

‘I miss my son. I miss seeing Finn.’ Harriet’s voice faltered. ‘Every day I have to convince myself that leaving him with you was the right thing if I had to go.’

‘I think …’ Theo ignored her underlying question. The last thing he needed was for her to fight him for Finn. ‘I think I just needed to know you’re sure. Because you need to be, Harriet. Once these papers go back, once I put them in the post …’

‘I’m sure. I struggle with it, but I’m sure.’

Theo reached the path, stood aside to let the figure he could see coming in his direction pass.

‘Okay, then.’ With those two words, he felt his wife slip away; he felt her slip into the arms of another man he barely knew. He felt himself loosen his grip and let go. ‘We’ll see you Friday, Harriet. Take care of yourself.’

Theo hung up the phone and stood still, the person on the pathway now only twenty feet from him.

‘I thought you’d be in here,’ Finn said.

‘And what if I hadn’t been? Did you tell Bea where you’d gone?’

They both walked towards the house.

‘Of course I did. Besides, I knew you’d be in here. This is where you always sulk.’

Theo faced his son. ‘I do not sulk.’

‘You do. A little bit. The beach is a good idea on one condition.’

Theo raised his eyebrows, not much in the mood for more conditions being placed on his life. ‘And what’s that?’ he asked anyway.

‘We ditch the ham sandwiches and have fish and chips instead.’ Finn shivered on cue. ‘It’s too cold for sandwiches.’

‘We’ll take them and have them in the car on the way down or back. We’ll have fish and chips when we’re there.’

Finn smiled. ‘I’m ready to go. Are you?’

An hour and a half later, they were both sitting on the highest dune at the furthest end of the stretch of strand at West Wittering. The light was dull, the sun trying to break through the abundant clouds above them. An Atlantic wind whipped around them but Theo didn’t care. The chips were hot, the fish was fresh and crispy, and his son was huddled next to him, munching.

‘You can just see the Isle of Wight, see the outline?’ Theo pointed and Finn nodded. ‘Do you remember the time we all camped there one summer? Your mum got drunk as a skunk!’

Finn nodded again.

‘I know you miss her. You’re bound to miss her. I … I just want you to know that I know.’

Theo noticed the chips couldn’t go into his son’s mouth quickly enough, as if Finn didn’t trust himself to reply. He pulled the blanket he had brought around Finn’s shoulders. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Thanks for doing this today.’ More nodding. ‘I used to come here a lot as a boy, before my father died.’ He followed his son’s gaze, looked out to the grey surf.

‘Why do people have to die, Dad?’

It was such an unexpected remark that Theo said nothing, allowed the question to linger.

‘Anna’s dead, isn’t she?’ Finn added.

Theo thought some more before replying. ‘More than likely, but until a body is found …’

‘No one could survive seventy days buried under snow, not even if they were in a hole of some sort.’ Finn had counted the days.

‘The human instinct is to survive against all odds.’ Theo picked up a chip and placed it in his mouth. It was already cool.

‘You’re a doctor. What do you think?’

When Finn stared up at him from his huddled stance, Theo saw fear and confusion and remembered what it was like to be young and afraid. He felt bad for not recognizing that two epic events had happened within such a close space of time. Harriet is his mother. And she had left him. Anna had been his beloved babysitter for years. And she was probably dead.

He hugged his son close. ‘I think we don’t know until we know. We have to have hope.’ Theo felt Finn’s body hold back tears. He held him as tight as he could without making him want to pull away. In the distance, the Isle of Wight had disappeared into black clouds. ‘However awful things might seem, we have to have hope.’

Finn’s lower lip trembled. ‘Did you like her, Dad? Anna?’ His voice caught on her name.

‘Of course.’ Theo angled himself to try and catch his son’s expression. ‘What a strange thing to say. Now …’ He loosened his grip on his son and gathered the rubbish into the plastic bag he had brought. ‘You put this lot into that bin over there, then I’ll race you to the car.’

Finn grabbed his arm. ‘Dad?’

‘Yes?’

‘Mum … She’s not coming back, is she? Like, never.’

Theo drew the cold air through his nose slowly, and exhaled it even slower. ‘No, Finn. I don’t think she is.’

‘See, I do hope. I keep hoping that Mum will come home. I keep hoping that Anna’s alive but …’

Theo paused before speaking again. ‘I know you do.’ He took one of his hands and squeezed it hard. ‘But we’re here. Alive and kicking. And your mum may be living somewhere else now, but she loves you very much and you can see as much of her as you want, any time. Any place. We will both make sure of that.’

Theo let the statement rest with his son for a few minutes, then turned and play-punched him. ‘So, what about that race?’

As Finn walked towards the bin ten feet away, Theo sprinted down the dune. ‘But you have to give me a head start!’ he yelled back through the wind as he slowed down and backed himself slowly up the beach. When he saw Finn running towards him, his hands waving dramatically, he turned around and ran again. The wind lashed his cheeks, made his eyes water. It is good to be alive, he thought, as he filled his grateful lungs with the sea air and ran, aware of his son’s laughter just over his shoulder, gaining on him, getting ready to overtake. He slowed and watched Finn pass. His son seemed to be running in slow motion, his limbs all angled, his hair, salt sprayed and stuck to his head, his head glancing back occasionally, his arms pumping like train pistons. ‘Did you like her, Dad? Anna?’

At the car, Theo panted loudly, leaned his body forward, his hands on his waist. ‘Not easy to run with all these layers,’ he protested.

‘You’re just old,’ Finn grinned.

‘I’m forty-five!’ Theo panted the words as he opened the car.

Inside, Finn rubbed his face warm with the palms of his hands. ‘That was good, Dad,’ he said. ‘But next time let’s wait for some better weather.’

‘Nah.’ Theo reversed the car away from the café, down towards the barriers that allowed paying visitors entrance to the beach to park. ‘The crowds come with the sun. We practically had the whole place to ourselves.’

Finn unravelled his white earphones for the journey home. ‘It was good, Dad,’ he repeated. ‘Some father-son-together crap.’

Theo frowned at his son’s language, but decided against a rebuke which, wired into his phone, Finn wouldn’t have heard anyway. He eased the car through the narrow barrier as Finn drummed his fingers to the music already pulsing in his ears and ignored the question repeating in his own.

‘Did you like her, Dad? Anna?’