‘Are you OK?’ Emma asked as she came into the office with a coat and two pairs of boots.
Angie sighed and would have said no, of course not, but that wasn’t going to help either of them, so she simply shrugged and tried for a smile.
‘I thought this might fit Douglas,’ Emma said, holding up the coat. ‘If it’s too big he can always use his belt to keep it together. It’ll make him look a bit of a dick, of course, but as I don’t think he ever looks in the mirror that shouldn’t be too much of a problem.’
Angie had to laugh.
‘Oh, wow,’ Emma murmured, glancing at her computer screen. ‘I’ve got a wave,’ and dropping the coat and boots on the floor she sat down, reaching for her mouse.
‘A what?’ Angie asked, frowning.
Emma’s eyes remained fixed on the screen. ‘A wave, from an admirer,’ she explained. A moment later she let go of the mouse and turned guilty eyes to Angie. ‘Sorry, bad timing, I …’
Angie shook her head. ‘Don’t be sorry. There’s no reason for your life to go on hold just because mine is falling apart.’
Emma flushed unhappily.
‘That came out badly,’ Angie sighed. ‘Why don’t you go ahead and check him out?’
Emma watched her sister as Angie made a pretence of carrying on with some work.
Though Angie could feel the scrutiny she didn’t acknowledge it, for she wasn’t yet ready to admit that she’d opened the court letters. She realized this meant she was in some form of denial, but better there for the moment than in the clutch of terrifying reality.
They couldn’t leave Willow Close, they just couldn’t. It was their home where Grace and Zac had always lived, where all their memories had been made, where Steve’s spirit still kept them going.
‘Angie,’ Emma probed gently.
Angie bit her lip and tried to smile. ‘So tell me about this dating site,’ she encouraged. ‘What’s he like, the guy who gave you a wave?’
Emma pulled a face. ‘A bit of a jerk,’ she admitted. She let a few moments pass and said chattily, ‘What if there’s someone out there who’s right for you, but he doesn’t know any other way to meet you?’
Angie’s eyes widened with as much surprise as annoyance as she said, ‘I’m hardly what you’d call a good catch right now, and anyway, don’t you find it a bit galling, or maybe demeaning, to think that a man has to be the answer to everything?’
Emma bristled. ‘That’s not what I think. Not even close, but what’s wrong with someone who makes you laugh, who thinks about you and how to make you happy?’
‘You’ve been watching too many rom-coms.’
Ignoring the put-down, Emma said, ‘Do you really think Steve would want you to carry on like this?’
Wishing with all her heart that Emma hadn’t mentioned Steve, Angie forced herself to remain silent as a ravaging, desperate grief rose up to swamp her.
‘What if,’ Emma persisted, ‘the answer to all your …’
‘Em, stop,’ Angie broke in raggedly. ‘Even if I wanted to meet someone, which I don’t, and even if he happens to be on that website, which I doubt, you have to admit that now really isn’t the time. So you go ahead and wave, use your bloody knickers if you want to, just please get off my case.’
Emma fell silent, so did Angie, but as the minutes ticked by Angie’s struggle to hold back her emotions started to fail. She was afraid to take a breath in case it turned into a sob, could barely move, aching with dread, guilt, grief, and despair.
Emma got up from her desk, but realizing her sister was about to hug her, Angie put up a hand to stop her. She couldn’t handle sympathy or tenderness right now; it would be the end of her. ‘I’m fine,’ she managed to say, and to try and prove it she quickly typed a search into Google. When the results came up she clicked a profile on the home page and turned the screen so Emma could see it. ‘How about him?’ she said recklessly.
Emma blinked first in surprise, then in confusion.
‘It’s Martin Stone,’ Angie told her. ‘I ran into him this morning at the retirement village building site. He knew Steve.’
‘Well he would, being who he is,’ Emma said carefully. ‘So why are you …? What are you saying?’
‘Nothing.’ Angie shrugged, feeling stupid now. ‘It’s possible we can get Dougie and Mark Fields a job on the site,’ she explained. ‘We’re waiting to hear.’
‘That’s good.’ Emma still seemed puzzled. ‘His dad’s name was Dougie,’ she stated, making an absurd connection. ‘Remember he was the mayor who did so much for this town like revamping the old cinema, and bringing in one-pound bus fares for every journey. He got the planning department to …’
Angie closed the screen down.
Emma frowned. ‘Why did you do that?’
Angie shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I’m sorry.’ She pressed her hands to her face. ‘I’m all over the place at the moment,’ she confessed. ‘I can’t seem to get my head straight.’
Realizing it was time to let the subject of Martin Stone go, Emma returned to her desk and another silence fell as they got on with their work.
Half an hour later, as she and Emma locked up and started through to the car park, Angie noticed the misty rain settling over her sister’s hair turning the stray strands into a sparkling cobwebby net. It reminded her of when they were young, walking to school in winter, or making dens at the end of the garden. She thought of how much they’d meant to their mother, how safe they’d always felt with her, and how she’d done her best to take care of Emma after their mother had gone. She loved Emma so much, and was so glad, relieved to have her it was close to making her cry, for without her she’d be totally alone. She just didn’t want to be a burden on her, making her worry about things she couldn’t change, or feel she had somehow to come up with the answers that were beyond them both.
‘I wonder if he’s married,’ Emma said as she unlocked her car.
Knowing exactly who she was talking about, Angie’s eyes flashed, but she had to laugh. ‘Of course he is,’ she replied, ‘and anyway, the way my luck’s going right now the only match I’m likely to get in the next few days is Liam’s DNA to that murder in Bristol.’ Even as she said it, she felt herself spinning off into a realm of madness. How could she even begin to joke about something like that; how could she even think of it without completely falling apart?
Twenty quid for topless shot. #SAVINGGRACE
Fifty quid to get your kit off. #SAVINGGRACE
You’re mad asking for suggestions. Look what you’re getting. #SAVINGGRACE
Run away and join circus. #SAVINGGRACE
They’re looking for dancers in Vegas. You’d be brilliant. #SAVINGGRACE
How many creeps does it take to change a lightbulb? Let us know when they’ve screwed you. #SAVING GRACE
‘That’s not even a joke,’ Lois muttered angrily.
‘But