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The Girl Who Lied(125)

By:Sue Fortin


‘Ah, sure, you’re not too big for a hug.’ He stretches out his other arm and embraces Fiona. ‘And you,’ he says looking at me. ‘You’re not too big for a cuddle either.’

I dive in for the best group hug of my life.





Chapter 43


After a quiet afternoon at Fiona’s and a family tea together, I drive Mum up to the hospital.

‘I think I’ll stay the night with your father,’ says Mum, as we pull up outside.

‘You sure?’

‘Yes, I want to tell him what’s happened. I don’t want any surprises for him. If it sets him back at all, at least he’ll be in the right place and I’ll be here.’ Mum unfastens her seat belt.

‘Mum,’ I say. ‘You don’t have to feel guilty about what happened, you know. We all understand.’

‘And the same applies to you. We are very lucky to come out of this all intact, apart from your father, but nothing that won’t mend, by the looks of things. It could have been a lot worse.’

‘I know it’s been forced on us, but I’m glad it’s out in the open now,’ I say. ‘Fiona and I had some romantic notion that we could keep the secret forever, but I think both of us knew deep down that we couldn’t. We were just putting off the inevitable.’

‘I know. I tried my hardest to protect you all,’ says Mum, looking over and placing her hand on the side of my face. ‘I really did. I would have done whatever was needed.’

I rest my hand on hers. ‘Me too,’ I whisper.

I leave Mum at the hospital an hour or so later. Dad was quite tired this afternoon, but we did have something resembling a conversation. He hasn’t got the concentration at the moment to hold a long discussion, but he asked me if I was okay. I got the feeling it was a more in-depth question. I told him everything was fine and couldn’t be better. I think he knew what I meant. Mum is going to tell him this evening. An abridged version of events. Myself, I have one final loose end to tie up.

As I park the car in the bay in front of the café, I look up at the flat above the bike shop. There’s no light on. I go round the back and up the steps to try the door anyway. I knock loudly a couple of times, but there’s no answer. I’m not sure I want to go in the pub, not right now. I may be ready to face Kerry again, but I’m not ready to face any of the villagers or questions they might throw my way.

I take out my phone and call Kerry’s mobile.

As it rings in my ear, I hear the sound of a phone ringing down in the street. I lean over the railings and there, under the streetlight, is Kerry. He’s looking up at me as he takes his phone from his pocket and answers.

‘Hey,’ he says.

‘Hey, back atcha.’

‘I was wondering if you’d call by,’ he says, still standing under the amber glow of the light.

‘Is there any reason why I wouldn’t?’

‘Have you forgiven me?’

‘Forgiven you?’ I say. ‘There’s nothing to forgive.’

‘Goodbye, then? You’ve come to say goodbye.’

‘I wasn’t planning to.’

‘So, what are you here for?’ I can hear a smile in his voice and the corners of his mouth tip up as proof.

‘I’ve come to say thank you.’ I’m smiling as I speak.

‘Is that right?’ He begins to walk to the bottom of the steps.

‘I always pay my debts,’ I say. ‘In full.’

‘I have some of my own to repay,’ he says, as he strides up the steps and comes to a stop right in front of me. We both still have our phones to our ears. ‘And how long will that take?’ he says. ‘Full repayment, that is.’

I close the gap between us. Our faces almost touching, our mouths separated by only our breath.

‘How long?’ I say. ‘A long time. A very long time.’ I drop the phone from my ear. ‘What about yours?’

‘A lifetime?’ says Kerry, his whisper matching mine.

‘Sounds good to me.’

In one swift movement, he pulls me into his arms, his kiss is gentle, and then as I respond it becomes more urgent. Reaching round, Kerry somehow unlocks the door before we practically bundle our way into the flat, down the hall and into the bedroom.





EPILOGUE


‘Yours is the light by which my spirit’s born: You are my sun, my moon and all my stars’

E. E. Cummings





‘It’s only me, Mum,’ I call, opening the front door to the two-bedroom bungalow my parents now live in. I go into the sitting room, where Mum is helping Dad on with his coat. ‘Great, you’re ready,’ I say, kissing both my parents in turn. ‘How are you today, Dad?’