The Sun in Her Eyes (30 page)

‘What? You knew Mum?’ I gape at her. I thought she was just conjecturing. ‘How?’

‘We went to primary school together,’ she replies. ‘Small towns,’ she adds offhandedly. ‘Can’t beat ’em.’

I’m astonished. How have I never heard this before? ‘Did you know Dad?’

‘No, no, not until well after your mother had, you know…’

‘What was she like?’ I could never imagine I’d be asking Liz this question. Liz! Of all people.

‘She was quiet,’ she replies. ‘We used to call her Mousey.’

I frown.

‘It wasn’t very nice of us,’ she concedes, looking slightly humbled. ‘But she was so shy. She wouldn’t say boo to a goose. I sure as heck don’t think she did
anything silly behind Len’s back, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

‘It did cross my mind,’ I mumble, still stunned by the revelation. ‘Why did you never tell me you knew her?’

‘You never asked,’ Liz replies drily. ‘And we’ve had our run-ins, haven’t we? I didn’t think you’d appreciate me telling you that your mother and I
weren’t the best of friends.’ She catches a glimpse of my face. ‘I’m sorry,’ she mutters, a touch ashamed.

Maybe it’s because of the day I’ve had, but her words strike an exceptionally raw nerve with me. ‘So you bullied my mum at school and then went on to bully me?’

‘Amber,’ Liz says, looking horrified.

I see red. ‘
Have you always been a bitch
?’ I stand up and stare down at her, but a commotion from the doorway brings my rant to a halt. I turn to see Dad in his dressing
gown, leaning heavily on his walking stick.

‘What’s going on?’ he demands to know.

‘She’s just told me that she bullied Mum in school!’ I feel dizzy as my voice goes up a notch.

‘Oh rubbish,’ Liz interrupts, brushing me off as she wearily gets to her feet.

I ignore her. ‘And then she went on to bully
me
!’

‘I couldn’t bully you if I tried!’ she shouts. ‘You’re nothing like your mother. You take after him.’ She points at Dad, who, despite his hunched-over
demeanour, looks actually quite fearsome. ‘And I
didn’t
bully Katy,’ Liz continues vehemently. ‘She was just quiet, that’s all. Just because we weren’t
friends, doesn’t mean I treated her badly.’

‘You’re lying!’ I yell, feeling completely out of control.

‘Amber!’ Dad raises his voice.

‘Why can’t you see it?’ I shake my head at him, tears filling my eyes again.

‘You give as good as you get,’ Liz interrupts, flopping back down on the sofa. She sighs heavily. ‘I thought you and I were past all this. I thought we were okay,
now.’

‘Not when you tell me you bullied my mother.’

‘I didn’t say that!’ she cries, looking up at me with exasperation. ‘Len, tell her! Do
you
think I bullied Katy?’

‘No!’ he exclaims, hobbling into the room. ‘Amber,’ he says, his voice firm, despite the slurring. ‘Where is this coming from?’

I have to force myself to be patient with him, to not interrupt him when he takes so long to speak. It’s exceptionally difficult tonight.

‘I’m upset about Doris,’ I reply, sniffing.

‘She came back in tears,’ Liz points out.

‘Why?’ Dad asks in confusion. ‘Is it Ethan? What’s he done?’

‘No, Dad, leave it!’ I cry with alarm. ‘It’s nothing to do with Ethan!’

‘I told you to be careful,’ he says.

‘Careful about what? God, Dad, I’m not a little girl! I’m a grown woman! You don’t have to warn me to be careful about going out with my friends.’

‘I think I do,’ he says, his speech becoming increasingly difficult.

‘Well, you’re wrong.’

‘Are you sure?’ he asks.

I sigh. ‘Dad, you’re tired. Come on, it’s too late for this. I’m knackered, too. We’ll talk in the morning, okay?’

‘I think that might be a good idea,’ Liz agrees, getting to her feet. ‘I’m sorry, Amber,’ she says. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. I really
didn’t
bully Katy,’ she insists.

I nod. ‘I’m sorry, too.’ I know I’ve been dragging her over hot coals for no good reason. It’s not her fault that I’ve got myself into this state.

‘Apology accepted,’ Liz replies brightly, letting me off the hook. ‘Come on, Len. Let’s get you to bed.’

I barely sleep that night, too freaked out by what’s happening. In the morning I wake up and hug Lambert to my chest for comfort.

I’m still sleeping with him. If only I had stuck to sleeping with
just
him.

I can’t stop thinking about what Ned’s face would look like if I told him I was pregnant with Ethan’s baby.

Not if… When.

I tumble out of bed, run to the toilet and heave into it.

How could I have been so stupid as to not recognise the signs of morning sickness? It’s not like I haven’t been here before.

I feel utterly drained as I return to bed, picking up Lambert again. I stare into his glassy black eyes.

What am I going to do?

A memory flickers at the back of my mind, but before I can fully focus on it, there’s a gentle knock at my door.

‘Come in,’ I call, sitting up as Dad enters. ‘Watch out for the mess,’ I warn. He doesn’t usually come in here, so it’s the one place I can wreak my havoc.
‘Hang on, let me—’

‘Stay there,’ he commands, using his walking stick to help him tread cautiously over my dirty clothes and the other wayward items on his way to my bed. My photo albums are heaped in
a pile on the floor – I was looking through them in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep.

Dad sits down on the end of my bed and turns to me, exhaling loudly. ‘How are you?’ he asks.

‘I’m sorry about last night,’ I reply quickly. ‘I was in the wrong.’

He shakes his head, his face taut. ‘I’m worried about you.’

‘I’m okay now, I promise.’

The truth will come out soon enough, but I’ll avoid it as long as I can, like the coward that I am.

‘Have you changed your flight?’ he asks.

‘Not yet, but I will.’

‘Don’t,’ he says, surprising me. ‘Let’s go see Doris in Clare.’

I begin to shake my head, then stop. ‘Yes!’ I nod as a smile spreads across my face. ‘Yes, that’s a great idea!’ I enthuse.

‘Then you can go home to Ned,’ he says.

My face falls. ‘I don’t want to go home yet.’

‘Why not?’ he asks.

I need some space. I can’t see my husband. I don’t know what I’m going to do about the baby growing inside me…

‘I’m not ready,’ I reply.

‘It’s not about me?’ he checks. ‘Because I’m okay.’

I nod. ‘I know.’

I could have said it was about him – about still wanting to be here for him – but I can’t bring myself to lie about that. ‘I need some more time, Dad,’ I tell him
disconsolately.

He looks concerned. ‘You and Ned… Going through troubles?’

I hesitate and then nod. ‘We have been for a while now.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

I can see from his expression that I’ve hurt his feelings. ‘Come on, Dad,’ I say resignedly. ‘You’ve had a bit too much on your mind lately. I didn’t want to
burden you.’

Then he asks the question I really don’t want to answer. ‘Is it Ethan?’

I hastily look away, not wanting to meet his eyes.

‘You still love him,’ he says.

I’m floored. ‘You knew?’

‘Always,’ he replies.

I draw a sharp intake of breath. ‘I’m very confused,’ I admit, my voice wavering. ‘But I don’t want to talk about it, I’m sorry,’ I whisper.

‘Not good enough for you,’ he says, his brown eyes full of compassion as he reaches out with his strong left hand to pat mine.

No, no man is ever good enough for a father’s daughter, I think wryly. He looks down at Lambert and picks him up.

‘I remember this,’ he says with a frown, and I’m grateful for the diversion. ‘Katy gave it to you.’

‘Did she?’ Mum gave me Lambert? ‘When?’

‘Not long before she died,’ he mumbles. ‘You had him in the car when—’

‘When we had the accident?’ I can’t help finishing this particular sentence.

‘Yes,’ he confirms.

Suddenly I recall being on that hospital bed, waiting for Dad to come and collect me and hearing his inhuman sound of grief outside in the corridor. I had Lambert with me. I clutched him to my
chest. Yes, I remember.

‘What else can you tell me about the accident?’ I can’t keep the plea from my voice. ‘How did it happen?’

He flinches, the memory still painful for him, and I instantly feel guilty. ‘She drove into the light,’ he says.

‘The light?’ I’m puzzled as to what he means. Surely he’s not implying in a religious sense – I know he goes to church, but that would be distinctly out of
character.

‘Yes,’ he replies. ‘Very bright sun, missed corner and crashed into a tree. Was an accident.’

My grip on Lambert tightens.

‘Lucky you weren’t killed too,’ he adds with difficulty.

We both fall silent for a long moment. He’s the next one to speak.

‘You need to go home to Ned. Talk to him.’

‘I still need more time away from him,’ I reply, shaking my head.

‘Not much longer,’ he warns, patting my hand again.

He appears uncomfortable, as if he has something else he wants to say, but he averts his gaze and I don’t press him. He’s tired. We both are.

When he’s gone, I lie back down on my pillows, in no hurry to get up and start the day.

I stare at Lambert again.

What other secrets are hidden behind your glassy black eyes? Did you see Doris? Did you hear what Mum said?

I rack my brain and try to picture the woman who came across the car crash. Can I find another elusive memory, one that’s escaped me so far?

I visualise the inside of a car. How small would I have been? I try to picture the bright sunlight, the large tree looming. Can I hear the sound of metal crunching, of glass breaking? Can I see
Mum in the front seat? I hear her screaming,
‘NAUGHTY GIRL!’
but there’s nothing else. No kindly stranger unbuckling me from my seat and carrying me out of the car. She
must have taken Lambert, too. Was he still in my arms? Had Mum breathed her last breath by then? Did
I
hear her last words? Why can’t I remember
anything
about the
accident?

Some memories are buried too deep. Perhaps seeing Doris again will bring them to the surface. I just hope they’re not too painful to bear.

I’m desperate to find out what she has to say. I hope she’ll be okay about us going to visit her instead of the other way round. With sudden determination, I get up and call Barry to
make the suggestion.

He’s delighted with the plan so we decide to stick to tomorrow: Tuesday. Adrenalin pulses through me as I hang up the phone, then my thoughts turn to Ned.

With all of the drama of yesterday, I never called him last night to wish him a happy Easter. And he never called me.

The last time we spoke, I said I wanted more time to think. Maybe he’s giving me space, but he did threaten to jump on a plane and fly over here. What if he’s doing just that? What
if he’s on his way right now?

A cold shiver goes down my spine. This would be a very bad thing. What if he sees me being sick and guesses that I’m pregnant?

My head is reeling, and despite the fact that he’s the last person I want to talk to right now, I decide to give him a call.

I’m full of relief when he answers. ‘Hi! It’s me,’ I tell him.

‘Oh, hi.’ He sounds a bit surprised.

‘Happy Easter,’ I say cagily. ‘Are you in Brighton?’ I can hear a commotion in the background. Please don’t let him be in an airport…

‘Yes,’ he replies flatly. ‘Everyone’s here.’

I close my eyes and let out a deep breath. Thank God.

‘Everyone except you,’ he adds.

I’d like to get off the phone now.

‘You didn’t try to get a flight, then?’ I ask flippantly, for want of something to say.

‘No. Like you said, they were all booked up.’

He sounds so hurt that my throat unexpectedly swells. He
did
try to fly out to see me.

‘So I never quite managed to pull off my grand gesture,’ he says bitterly. ‘Then I thought, well, as you’re coming home on Friday anyway…’ His voice trails
off.

‘Ned…’ I quickly draw breath then allow my words to tumble out. ‘I’ve decided to stay a bit longer.’

‘
What?
’ He sounds shocked. ‘Amber,
why
?’

‘Something’s come up. I haven’t had a chance to tell you.’

‘What is it, for Christ’s sake?’ There’s a muffled noise in the background and I hear people talking – their voices rising and falling and then sudden silence with
the sound of a door closing. I take it he’s left the room and gone somewhere quiet.

He remains silent while I fill him in about Doris.

‘I see,’ he says finally. ‘Wow. Are you okay? Do you have any idea what she has to tell you?’

‘I’m okay. Curious, more than anything. But I have no idea at all what it’s about.’

‘Does your dad?’

‘He says not,’ I reply.

‘When are you seeing her?’ he asks.

I panic. If I tell him it’s tomorrow, he’ll say I can still fly home on Friday, so I pretend it’s not set in stone.

‘I’m hoping I might be able to go to Clare myself in the next few days.’

‘So you might still be able to fly home on Friday, then?’

Dammit. ‘It’s not that simple,’ I reply quietly, wishing I’d outright fibbed and said we’re meeting next week instead.

‘
Why
isn’t it that simple? It’s not like your dad and Liz need you to be there any longer – in fact, they’d probably like to have their home back to
themselves, thank you very much. I’m beginning to think you’re avoiding me.
Are
you avoiding me?’ he demands to know. ‘Has something happened out there?’

‘No,’ I reply quickly – a little too quickly. ‘No, it’s nothing. I just… I just need space, that’s all.’

‘I’m trying to give you space.’ He raises his voice. ‘I’ve left you alone for days and you haven’t called. I’ve tried to respect that.’

‘I’m calling you now.’

‘Days after you received the letter.’ His voice sounds strained. ‘God, Amber,’ he starts, and my chest feels constricted because I know he’s getting emotional.
‘I miss you. I love you. Can we not get past this? Can’t we try again? I want to have a family with you. I love you.’