drops his hand, sits back and closes his eyes. ‘Fair dos. I miss you. I miss us. That’s all.’
She turns away to the sink and busies herself with the kettle as she steadies her breathing. His suggestion’s a surprise, his lack of fight even more so. She wishes she could ignore the clutch of concern mixed with ache in her chest. She starts to count to ten but turns after five, returns to her chair and takes his large hand. ‘Are you OK, Will?’
‘Yeah. I’m OK.’
His drained handsome face doesn’t match his words; she can feel herself falling.
‘Are you really OK?’
He lifts her hand to his lips. ‘You’ve no idea how much I miss you,’ he sighs.
Will lies on his front; he always lies on his belly after sex. He closes his eyes, sighs with a smile and nods off. In the old days Jen didn’t like it; his turning away made her feel slighted and used. She wanted to be cuddled and kissed, to be told how great their lovemaking had been. Perhaps it was because sex in a bed was so rare; she counted it up once: sex in a bed with Will before marriage to Ian and after. The after far outweighed the before. In her marital bed too. Yet she never felt guilt, at least not the guilt she should have. What did she and Will always say? That it wasn’t really betrayal because they’d been together forever. But of course that wasn’t strictly true.
She leans over, inhaling the familiar smell of mild sweat and deodorant, kissing the back of his broad shoulder. ‘I have to leave at three to collect Anna from school.’
He immediately turns, his face closed and sleepy. ‘But we haven’t had a chance to talk.’ He hitches up the bed and puts his arm around her, pulling her close. ‘I shouldn’t have broken up with you before uni,’ he says into her hair. ‘I have no idea why I did it. I should have begged you back before … before it was too late.’
Before marrying Ian Kenning at twenty-one. Giving birth to Maria three months later.
Like his visit, the words are a surprise; Will hasn’t said them for a long time, but still she doesn’t reply. There’s no point reminding him that he thought the grass was greener, that he wouldn’t have as much fun in his fresher’s year with a girlfriend holding him back.
That he broke her bloody heart.
‘Tell me about Penny,’ she says instead, needing to know sooner or later. She takes a breath and steels herself. ‘Tell me what happened at the wedding; tell me why.’
He’s silent for a while, then he kisses her forehead. ‘I had to pay for the cost of the door the other day. Thank God Dan came with me to the room. My legs were like jelly. Another minute and who knows?’
‘Do you really think she would’ve done it?’ Jen asks, but Will stares ahead, saying nothing. ‘It’s OK,’ she adds, her heart racing with the sudden need to know everything. ‘We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.’
Will inches down the bed, pulling her with him. He looks at her thoughtfully, then leans forward with a gentle kiss. ‘I don’t want to talk about it, if I’m honest. But then I’m offended no one is asking me about it. It just adds to the weird embarrassment of it all. She’s remarkably fine, actually. Her doctor arranged a home treatment team for the first few days, prescribed medication, and now she’s having counselling, on her own to start with and then with me, if she wants. Of course, it should be her bloody mother, but I doubt she’d agree …’
Jen’s heart slows. She pictures Penny in her underwear, pale-faced and dead-eyed, on the hotel window ledge. Over the past couple of weeks, she hasn’t let herself dwell on reasons why she would do something so extreme and so public, but still there’s a huge sense of relief. ‘Oh right, so she did it because of her mum?’
‘Not directly, but in Penny’s head … God, I don’t know what goes on between them. Penny says it’s bad. In her face all the time. Constant criticism, nagging, pressure. Comparing Penny to her bloody perfect brother.’ He stares at the ceiling, a pensive frown on his face. ‘Of course, she doesn’t do it when I’m there. Or if she does, it’s more subtle, disguised as concern. You know – she only wants what’s best for Penny, she only wants to help.’
Jen nods, surprised if she’s honest. Her girls were bridesmaids at Will and Penny’s wedding, so she saw a fair amount of her mum in the run-up. She was a bit distant, if anything. Friendly enough, but mad busy with all her volunteering commitments. But in fairness, she never hid her preference for Penny’s brother. ‘Boys are so much easier, Jen,’ she’d say. Which was a bit rich said to a mother with three girls.
‘So her mum thinks she’s done nothing wrong?’ Jen asks eventually.
Will pauses and rubs his head. ‘I don’t really know if she has. Penny’s an adult, not a child anymore. She can’t blame her mother forever. Can she? I really don’t know, Jen. We’re all in our thirties. Shouldn’t we be past all that parental angst by now?’
He falls silent again and Jen drifts for a while. Parental angst isn’t something she likes to contemplate; thoughts of her father are best hidden deep. But her mum Nola is a star; a constellation in fact.
‘I’m trying, Jen. I’m trying to be supportive.’ Will’s clotted voice jerks her back. ‘I’m going through the motions, but if I’m honest, I don’t get it. I mean, what the fuck did Penny think she was doing? At someone else’s wedding? Disappearing without saying a word, going into our hotel room, locking herself in. If Dan hadn’t kicked in the door, who knows?’ He stares at the ceiling and rocks his head. ‘But then again, even if she’d jumped … We were on the third floor, for fuck’s sake, not the thirteenth.’ Abruptly leaning forward, he puts his face in his hands. ‘I didn’t know it was coming, Jen. She never said a word. Just that blank polite face she’s had for months. She might do it again. How will I know? I have to work; I can’t be with her all the time, watching her, hiding the window keys, counting the kitchen knives. It’s a bloody nightmare.’ Then, with a shuddery sigh: ‘I know she’s the one who’s ill and needs help. I know I’m being selfish, but it’s doing my head in.’
Jen puts her hand on Will’s back and rubs gently. ‘Maybe the counselling will help you as well as Penny,’ she says after a time. ‘Perhaps you have to say how you feel, you just have to be honest.’
Will turns his head and smiles wryly. ‘Not completely honest, though, eh?’
Before leaving the house, Jen opens the bedroom window and changes the bedding. Smoothing the duvet cover, she contemplates how she feels about Will’s unexpected visit. Wistful, she supposes. There are other words to describe the act itself. Almost immediately gratifying would be apt today. Not that sex with Will wasn’t always satisfying in the end, but it was more routine, the slow burner of regular sex. But it has been a while since they were last together. There was a period after Anna’s fourth birthday when he’d drop by almost weekly. He was auditing then and they’d go to bed for his lunch hour and chat before making love, rather than the other way around. Then he met Penny at a medics’ ball; she’d gone at the last minute to make up the numbers on the table. The lovemaking seemed to intensify then. Perhaps they both knew the end was imminent. Handsome, gregarious and charming, Will had plenty of girlfriends over the years, but Penny seemed to stick.
Fighting a sudden urge to sob, she strips the pillow, puts the soft case to her face and breathes in his smell. When pregnant with Holly, Will sent her an email out of the blue. It was a period when she was consumed with the highs and lows of motherhood and she’d seen
