He glanced up at a photo on the cabinets to their right that Laurie hadn’t noticed until now, a barrel-bellied kid Jamie next to an older brother with a broad toothy grin, both in grey V-neck school sweaters and ties.
Eric raised his glass to it in a toast, and Laurie found herself desperately swallowing over and over to stop herself starting to cry. She didn’t look at Jamie or Mary.
A tear rolled down Eric’s cheek and Laurie felt shocked, despite herself, as she thought by now the Carters weren’t going to do conventional sadness. Jamie’s mum poured herself more whisky and Jamie put his hand on his dad’s arm and nobody spoke for a moment, because nobody could.
‘Maybe I should join that religion that Tom Cruise is in, what is it, Scientology?’
‘I don’t think there’s a Scientology church in Lincoln, Dad,’ Jamie said. ‘You might have a Wagamama but don’t get ahead of yourself.’
‘It was a delight to have you there, tonight, Laurie,’ Eric said, turning to her. ‘We’re very proud our son has convinced such an impressive woman to be by his side. I mean at this point we were so desperate to meet a girlfriend we’d have made our peace with Ann Widdecombe, but you’re really something special.’
‘Dad!’ Jamie said in outrage, as Laurie laughed heartily.
They said their goodnights and Laurie found it peculiarly awkward when they got to the bedroom. More so than she had at any time throughout the visit. Was it the near kiss? Was that a near kiss? She thought about Emily’s wisdom. Sooner or later, one or the other of you is going to wonder if you mean it.
She didn’t wonder that, but she did wonder if the line between things they needed to do and things they wanted to do for solace, was getting blurred. Her mind kept spooling back to that moment, imagining them not being interrupted, imagining how it would’ve felt to kiss him and then claim it was part of the act. Laurie wanted to know what it felt like to kiss someone who wasn’t Dan.
It would’ve been too much, she concluded, to accidentally tap off and then not be able to get away from each other.
Sex was obviously out of the question with his parents sleeping yards away, but the thought of it was too much anyway. Laurie didn’t want a confused pity shag because Jamie’s emotions were in a tumble dryer, and him to sorely regret asking her here, and there to be another man she was desperate to avoid at her office.
They danced around the arrangements for going to bed, Laurie changing in the bathroom.
‘I thought your dad did really well,’ Laurie said, quietly, once the covers were up to her armpits, ‘The atmosphere tonight was lovely.’
‘Yeah.’
He was oddly clipped. Don’t make the almost-kissing thing weird, she silently begged. We can get past it if we pretend it didn’t nearly happen.
‘You seemed to handle it well?’
‘Mmm.’
She thought a further silence indicated subject closed, or Jamie nodding off, until he made a heaving noise that was, unmistakably, a sob.
‘… Jamie?’ Laurie whispered into the darkness. She stared at the pattern of street lights on the bedroom ceiling.
‘Sorry, shit …’ he said, trying to steady himself with a series of sharp gulps. Like someone trying not to hiccup by holding their breath. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘You’ve come here to help me out, and now this …’
‘Hey, don’t be silly.’
‘I’m just … I’m not ready to live in a world that doesn’t have him in it.’
Laurie moved the pillow barrier out of the way and pushed her arms around him as he sobbed. She thought he might resist, but he wrapped himself around her.
‘It’s OK to be sad,’ Laurie said, hotly, stroking his hair, his head resting against her chest. ‘You’re allowed to be really sad, and not apologise for it.’
She could feel Jamie’s tears making her shoulder wet and his hand gripped her waist tightly as he sobbed near-silently, face buried her neck. She squeezed him, to let him know he wasn’t expected to stop.
‘There’s something I’ve never told anyone. I thought I’d left it behind, compartmentalised it. It’s been crucifying me since I got Dad’s news.’
‘Do you want to tell me? I won’t judge you,’ Laurie whispered, into the darkness. The darkness helped.
‘It’s about Joe. We were playing a game, a stupid game of chicken, running into the road, dodging cars. My parents know that part. What they don’t know is that I was taunting him, winding him up, saying I’d won.’ He had to pause, and gasp. ‘Saying I’d won the game. It was my fault. It was my fault Joe ran back into the road and got hit, Laurie.’
‘Shhhhh.’ She held him as his body convulsed again. ‘Jamie, you were a child. You could’ve just as easily died. You didn’t mean to hurt him.’
‘Should I tell him? Dad? Before he dies? He should know, right? He deserves to know.’
‘No, because he won’t care about that detail. He’ll care that his son who he loves very much is torturing himself. What I’ve seen of your parents shows they want your dad’s remaining time to be about love and happiness, and not anger or recriminations.’
Jamie mumbled something that sounded like agreement.
‘You have survivor’s guilt. I think you push yourself super hard to try to be both sons, to make them doubly proud.’
Laurie hadn’t known she’d thought this until she’d said it, and yet as she said it, she knew it to be true.
‘But they’re already proud of you,’ she added. ‘You’re enough as you are.’
Jamie hugged her tighter.
‘I can’t begin to imagine how terrible it was for you. And your parents.’ God, Jamie must have been with his brother, he must have seen it …? The guilt he must have had to carry, as a nine-year-old.
‘It changed us completely. There was life before Joe was killed and life after. I think a lot of the pulling through my parents did was for my sake. They didn’t want my childhood to be a vale of tears.’
Jamie’s breathing steadied.
‘I try not to think about it for the most part. That’s what living life is, isn’t it? Coping,’ Jamie said.
‘Yes.’ God, yes.
‘Thank you for what you’ve said. I mean it. I’m going to think about these words and try to remember them when things get shaky. If someone as intelligent as you thinks this, it can’t be completely wrong.’
He had too high an opinion of her brains, but let him find the comfort there.
‘I really do.’
How had a lift breaking down ended with Laurie in a bedroom in North Hykeham, sleeping with and yet not sleeping with a colleague, consoling him about bereavements, both past and future tense?
It was so strange and yet the strangest thing of all was that it didn’t feel strange. For the first time since Dan left her, Laurie hadn’t thought about him much at all. If she could be helpful to Jamie in a time of need, it was therapeutic for her.
Something else dawned on Laurie. She understood Jamie, at last. He hadn’t developed his self reliant, streamlined, take no passengers persona because he was superficial, arrogant and selfish. He wasn’t, as she’d assumed, playing life on the easy setting.