‘How’s Sophie?’ I ask.
‘Starting chemo. I’m going over to visit next weekend. Should be interesting. We’ve talked on the phone, but I haven’t seen her since she moved to Wales. She’s talking about moving back to Limmingham. I think she’s finding it hard on her own out there.’ She pauses before going on, tentatively. ‘And Dan?’
I clasp my hands together and say nothing. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see we’ve been joined by my shadow from the ticket queue. He lights up a cigarette, leans against the railings and stares at the pier.
‘I’m so sorry about what happened, Maya. I wasn’t thinking.’
‘There’s no need to apologise.’
‘I shouldn’t have turned up like that. Did you sort it out with him?’
I falter, fiddle with the umbrella. The moment has finally arrived.
‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ I begin, searching for exactly the right words and finding nothing particularly helpful. ‘He’s had an accident.’
Too blunt, by far. I watch as shock takes hold of her face. Lips part and eyes widen. Before she panics, I need to allay her fears. Speaking quickly, I fill her in on what happened, tell her there’s no need to worry, reassure her that her brother’s alright. For all I know, I could be talking complete and utter bollocks, because the truth is I have no idea how he is at the minute. I’m simply working on assumptions. The shock seems to deepen. It’s joined by confusion, along with a good dash of anger, and I know exactly why that’s arrived.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I just couldn’t … I should have called you. I know that.’ And I also know I’m babbling. ‘He’s your brother and you had a right to know, but after what happened, I thought I should get his permission first, but he was unconscious and I had to wait, and I thought you had enough to deal with.’
‘It’s okay.’
‘It’s not, Layla. But I was caught between a rock and a hard place.’
She shakes her head.
‘It’s alright. I understand.’ Reaching into her handbag, she pulls out a fresh tissue and wipes her eyes. ‘But he’s alright now?’
‘On the mend. Past the worst of it. It’s just broken bones. He’ll be fine. He’s still in hospital …’
Absent-mindedly, she taps her umbrella.
‘I should send him a card … so he knows I care.’
‘No. Listen to me. This isn’t a good time for you to make contact. You need to be patient.’
‘You’re right. What am I thinking of? If I send him a card, it’ll only end up in the bin.’
And now, out of nowhere, I’m angry with Dan. For the life of me, I can’t work out why he won’t face his sister. She’s just about the nicest person I’ve ever met and as far as I know, she’s never done anything to merit his contempt. I swallow back the irritation, reminding myself I have no right to be angry. After all, I’m not in possession of all the facts.
‘I could give it to you,’ Layla suggests. ‘You could wait for the right time.’
I shake my head.
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘We’ve split up.’
She stares at me, perplexed.
‘He finished with me,’ I explain. ‘Because of what happened. Because I got in touch with you. When he woke up, he put an end to it.’
‘Oh God.’ She raises a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh no, Maya. What have I done?’ The poor woman. If it’s not bad enough that her brother’s in hospital and his relationship’s apparently in tatters, she’s now convinced the entire mess is her fault. ‘I only wanted to make things better … for all of us. We all feel like there’s something missing. I know we do. Something here.’ She touches her chest and drifts into thought. ‘That bastard.’
For a split second, I think she’s referring to Dan, but then she pulls a photo out of her handbag.
‘He caused a lot of pain.’
She hands it to me. A picture of a man. Thick-set, dark-haired and bleary-eyed, he’s smiling at the camera … but I can see the cruelty in his eyes.
‘My dad. You see the resemblance?’
It’s obvious. While she has the same bright blue eyes as Dan, the rest of her features are clearly influenced by her father.
‘Two peas in a pod,’ I murmur, without thinking. ‘No wonder Dan lost it.’
She blinks at my words, and I wish I could take them back.
‘Why?’ she whispers. ‘That’s all I ever wanted to know. Why did he treat us that way? Why was he such a pig? I never got the chance to find out. None of us did. I should have talked to him in those last few weeks. He was different then.’
‘Different?’
‘Quiet … miserable. You could almost see the shame in his eyes.’
‘He was dying.’
‘I don’t think it was that. He changed after he got beaten up. He said he didn’t know who’d done it, but I think he did. I think he finally realised he was a low life piece of shit. I should have made the most of it.’ She becomes silent for a minute. ‘It doesn’t matter now, does it? He caused all that pain, fucked everything up, and now I’ve fucked it up even more. I’m sorry.’
Tears well in her eyes. I search through my handbag for more tissues and hand them to her, knowing exactly what’s going to happen next. My brain’s just flicked the ‘fuck-it’ switch and my mouth’s planning on letting me down in style. I’m losing the will to deceive, because it’s exhausting. And besides, I can practically see the guilt gnawing away at my companion. If I leave her like this,
