‘Simon’s house. Come along, if you want.’
He glances at me. ‘Do you want me to?’
‘I don’t mind either way.’ And, honestly, I don’t. I just want to get out of this car and back to Daphne.
He lays one hand on the steering wheel and nods. ‘Well, I don’t think it’d do anyone any good if I came.’ Once again, I can hear the self-pity dripping from this statement, and it makes my skin crawl. I’m prone to self-pity too, and I hate myself for it. I must have got it from him, because I definitely didn’t get it from Mum.
He sniffs and straightens his back against the seat. ‘So, Ben, listen. If you need anything, or you want to meet up, or—’
‘Well, you’ll be in New York,’ I interrupt.
‘No … Well, yes, I will be. For the next few weeks. But I mean, you can call me if you like. I can give you my direct line.’
‘Your direct line?’ The phrase is so ridiculous it almost makes me laugh out loud. It’s always been like this: me calling him, trying desperately to forge some kind of relationship. ‘So, now Mum’s gone, you’re … stepping up, is that it?’ I ask him. ‘You’re finally ready to be my dad?’
‘No, I just …’ He exhales heavily and starts chewing the nail on his little finger. It’s the exact same thing I do when I’m anxious. Daff is constantly moaning at me about it, batting my hand away from my mouth.
‘Look, I know I fucked up, Ben,’ he says slowly. ‘I made a hash of everything, especially with you. But after your mother and I split up, I did try to see you. I tried. But she didn’t always make it easy.’
I keep my voice steady as I look him in the eye. ‘I don’t want to get into some big fight today. But if you blame my mum for anything, ever, then we won’t speak again. OK?’
He rubs the back of his neck and nods. ‘OK.’
I open the door and put one foot out onto the pavement.
‘Take care of yourself, Ben,’ he says.
‘You too. Good luck with the play.’
He smiles at me sadly. ‘I’ll see you.’
I get out and shut the door behind me. I know there’s a good chance that I will never see him again, and for the first time in my life, that doesn’t make me feel bad or frightened or like a total failure. In fact, I don’t really feel anything towards him at all.
I pull my coat collar up and walk into the whipping wind, listening to the big maroon Renault pull away behind me. It’s a freezing December day, but the sun is beginning to creep shyly out from behind the clouds.
Suddenly the desire to see Daphne, to be with the people I really love, grips me so tightly that I break into a run.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The rest of the day is … well, not good, obviously. But better.
I certainly get through the wake with a fair bit more poise and dignity and social interaction than I did last time. And by the time it’s all over, and the black suit is off, and I’m lying in bed next to Daphne, I really feel like I have resolved something – with both my parents. Even if neither of them will ever know about it.
I can feel Daff’s body start to relax as she drifts into sleep beside me. But my stomach is still churning like crazy. Not just because it’s 11.49 p.m. and I have no clue where I’ll find myself in ten minutes’ time, but also because of everything I’ve realised or remembered or learned over the past few days.
That night in the bar at uni when I felt this instant connection with a girl I’d just met; that moment in the maze where I snapped the branch on purpose so she’d find me. The discovery that she’d given up her Rising Star evening to come and pick me up when I was down; the blinding misery I felt waking up in Alice’s bed in Paris. Some of these memories have made me feel good; some have made me feel sick with shame and guilt. But all of them have served to reinforce one thing: it’s always been Daphne.
Always.
I keep thinking of what I said to my dad back in the car: She’s pretty much kept me together over the past couple of weeks. I don’t know what I’d do without her. It’s true. I would be lost if I didn’t have Daff. I’d fall to pieces, I know I would. But that’s not a relationship, is it? That’s … dependency.
She said earlier, when we were sitting in the churchyard, that we were a team. Well, for years, she’s been doing all the teamwork. If I want to be with her, I need to earn it. I have to stop taking her for granted and start pulling my weight.
I wasted so many years trying to salvage my relationship with my dad – a relationship that wasn’t even worth saving. But my marriage to Daphne is. I’ve got to make things better. I know that now.
The clock on the bedroom wall now reads 11.54 p.m. I’m only two years away from the present at this moment. Will that be where I find myself in five minutes’ time? My whole body tingles with excitement at the thought. I can’t wait to get back to 2020 and start rebuilding my life.
The first step will be to have a perfect Christmas Day with Daff. And then, after that, look for a new job, maybe even restart the conversation about having kids … and who knows what else? For the first time in a long time, the future actually seems like an inviting prospect.
Daff wriggles next to me and nuzzles further into my neck.
I pull her close and kiss her cheek gently. ‘Everything’s going to be OK, Daff,’ I whisper. ‘I promise. I love you.’
‘Love you too,’ she murmurs. ‘See you in the morning.’
On the wall, 11.57 becomes 11.58.
I hold my arm up so that my watch hovers right next to the clock in my eyeline, and wait for the time to match up.
Chapter Thirty-Six
I must have been subconsciously bracing myself for the hard wooden attic floor, because the soft mattress feels strangely disconcerting beneath me.
I know I’ve jumped again, because the dizziness and motion sickness are both in full effect. But when I open my eyes and sit up, I see I’m still in the same bed, in the same bedroom.
It’s light outside now, though, and Daphne has disappeared. I can hear the gurgle and splutter of the coffee machine from downstairs. I reach across to the bedside table and open my phone. The date reads: 25 December 2020.
The realisation fizzes through me: I’m back. I’m definitely back.
But how did I get down from the attic? And when did Daff get home? There’s a blank space between me falling asleep while poring over that stuff in the biscuit tin, and me waking up here now. And that blank space feels extremely unsettling.
The watch is still fixed tightly around my wrist, its hands stuck at one minute to midnight.
My heart starts hammering, but as I step out of bed, I decide to worry about filling in the gaps later. The only thing that matters right now is that I’m back, and I can start making things right with Daphne.
I get dressed quickly and head downstairs, but as I pass the living room, I spot the Christmas tree through the half-open door. It’s fully decorated, with a stack of neatly wrapped presents underneath it. My heart sinks. Daff must have got up early to do the chores I was supposed to be doing last night. After everything I’ve just been through – and all my resolutions to make things better – are we right back where we were before? Am I about to walk into the kitchen and straight into another fight?