‘Every time you make one of your arch comments, I feel like I can hear her laughing like a drain. Thanks to you, I’m proud of her. You’re a connection to the Susie I didn’t get to be close to.’
Finlay only just gets these words out before his own tears take over and we lean against each other, holding onto each other, like the ground beneath us might move.
As we steady ourselves, we realise how cold and dark the garden has become.
‘Have you had attacks like that before?’ I say, quietly, wiping under my eyes. ‘That was a panic attack?’
‘Yeah but not for years, and not many. With the cost of American healthcare, I soon taught myself breathing techniques, so I didn’t land with a trip to A&E. He gave me an unexpected jolt, is all. I’ve never liked being inside these walls again.’
I say: ‘Of course. He gave me a jolt.’ There’s a pause. ‘There’s something I still can’t work out,’ I say. ‘Why are you helping him? Why not fly back to NYC saying see ya later, electrocute yourself in the bath for all I care? I would.’
‘For closure. Never got it with my mother, won’t get it with my sister, and realised when Susie first said my father’s memory was fragmenting that the bastard would evade me ever confronting him. I got the hatred and the anger and the self-righteousness out of my system in my twenties. I understand better how I remove the noose of Iain Hart from my neck now. It turns out that Christians were on to something, with forgiveness. If I treat him well, find a home, make sure he has end-of-life care – it’s ultimate proof to myself that I’m not him. My conscience will be clear when he dies. That feels like a victory.’
‘You’re a better person than I am,’ I say.
‘Oh, I’m not,’ Fin says, turning dark blue eyes on me, and I wilt. Everyone should be looked at the way I’m being looked at right now, once in their life.
‘Right. I need a minute alone to get myself together, do you want to say goodbye to him?’ Fin says, standing up, brushing his hands. ‘Here’s the keys to the Merc. I parked a few streets away and went on a run. Never visit here without a getaway car.’
‘I’m not walking out of the front door and leaving you alone with him. Not for a second.’
‘Come here,’ Fin says, and hugs me hard enough to squeeze the air out of me. ‘If he tried to swing for me now I’m six foot and he’s senile, it’d end badly for him. I’m not in any physical danger. I had a shock earlier, that’s all.’
‘I know I’m a pathetic protector and I’m wearing a skirt with dancing squirrels printed on it … but … let me rescue you!’ I blurt, half crying, half laughing.
‘Ah, but, you see – the thing is, Evelyn Harris. You already have,’ Fin says, putting his hand to my face.
As I pass the front room, I hear the burble of a television show and can’t stop myself from walking in and looking at him, one last time.
Mr Hart glances up, face wreathed in smiles. ‘Eve! You two still out there? What are you gabbing on about?’
‘He told me it wasn’t him who was the poison. You are,’ I say, under my breath.
‘I’m sorry?’ Mr Hart says, turning back to the TV.
‘I wish you were,’ I say.
43
We don’t speak much on the drive to my house, but when we park up at mine, Roger appears in the window, pawing at the glass, somehow managing a feline frown. What time do you call this, young lady. And who is he, might I ask?
‘Hello, you didn’t mention you had a lodger,’ Finlay says. ‘He’s a handsome swine, yours?’
‘No, I don’t know how Roger “Piecrust” got in there. He won’t leave,’ I say, smiling. ‘Twee name not entirely my fault.’
‘Is that from some show I never saw?’ Fin says.
‘Long-ish story. For another time. Your sister is involved.’
‘Remember who the killer was in Twin Peaks?’ Fin says. ‘The bad guy was the dad. Periodically possessed by a demonic entity. Otherwise seemed the perfect loving father.’
‘Shit …?’
‘That was why I was trailing my coat about why you chose the theme music.’
‘Pure coincidence, unfortunately. Except Susie had a thing about being Laura Palmer. Now I’ll forever wonder what she was seeing there. Fin, I still have her phone. Do you want that?’
Fin turns the engine off and unsnaps his seatbelt, shifts to look at me. ‘No, really. It wouldn’t be right, or do me any good. If anyone should have her things, it’s you. As we’ve said, you were the love of her life.’
Finlay Hart looks at me steadily, while my insides unwind.
I stare at his hand resting on the gear stick.
‘Do you want to come in and meet Roger?’ I say, my breath feeling like it’s blocked in my chest with anticipation and fear.
‘Yes,’ Fin says, still looking at me. ‘Thing is, though. There’s a problem with that. Remember in Edinburgh I said, what if I dropped the act, the second-guessing? What if I told you the truth about what I’m thinking? What if I stopped Gatsby-ing and risked someone really knowing me, and rejecting me?’
‘That’s rich, you talking about rejection! You said that right before you looked at me like you might kiss me, then went scuttling off in horror at the thought of it.’
Fin bursts out laughing, one of his eye-creasing laughs that changes his whole face.
‘I didn’t feel any horror at that idea, quite the opposite, but don’t you see how bad it would’ve been if I had? I bullied you into helping me search for my father in another country, I’d got you a hotel room. You’d been weeping, shortly before. Can you imagine, if anything had happened, what you might’ve wondered I’d been up to all along? Or the advantage you might feel I was taking in comforting you?’
‘I never thought of that. I didn’t doubt your motives at all.’
‘I know. I wanted it to stay that way.’
I smile, and marvel at how my opinion of Finlay Hart has undergone such a revolution. I would trust him with my life now. Which is just as well.
‘Honesty, right, I’ll go first, then you can have a turn,’ Fin says, and I brace. ‘I’m trying to reconcile all the following things. If I come in now, I think you know, I won’t want to leave again.’
I hard swallow.
‘I want you to say you feel the same way, but I don’t want to hurt you: I have to get on a plane to America in a few days’ time, even though I don’t want to. I can’t stay here because my job isn’t here. I don’t want to tell you to come with me, even though I passionately want you to come with me, if that’s what you want. Tearing someone else’s life up by the roots like that isn’t fair. I don’t know how we make this work, but I don’t want to not try, either. So yes, I want to meet Roger. But meeting Roger has a lot riding on it. Because if this is just going to be a very eventful few days, I feel like we both should agree that. Not that it will make my leaving feel possible. OK. Now you.’
There’s a pause where I clear my throat and hope my voice works.
‘Yeah, same,’ I say, casually, and in the tension breaking we both laugh so much we have tears forming.