The Memory Keeper by Corin Burnside

Author:Corin Burnside [Burnside, Corin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers
Published: 2024-04-02T17:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

Jennifer

Scott’s story left me wondering how anyone could come back from such physical and mental trauma. Selfishly, I was secretly relieved that at least Ben hadn’t had to endure something so hideous.

I found myself in awe of the young Marine’s resilience and strength. He managed to present himself as someone who didn’t let his past prevent him from doing what he wanted. But of course, that wasn’t the truth of it; he had had no choice but to give up doing the thing he loved most. The strength of mind to leave it behind, carry on and rebuild his life showed the metal of the man.

I didn’t realise until a couple of weeks later, that he and Rosie were still in touch and had met up at the local pub a couple of times for a drink. I raised an eyebrow when she mentioned it, on her way out one evening.

‘What?’ she said. ‘He’s a friend, that’s all, and far more interesting to talk to than most of my old school-mates.’ She looked a little wistful. ‘He reminds me of the students from uni. Like he hasn’t spent his whole life in this backwater.’

I smiled. It was a good sign that she was missing her university friends, but I knew better than to push her.

‘Scott’s a good lad, I’m glad you two get on well,’ I said. ‘Just …’

She put a hand up, palm out. ‘Don’t, Mum, okay? Just nothing.’

I nodded and let her go, hoping it wouldn’t end in tears … two damaged people, what could possibly go wrong?

Over the next weeks, Rosie looked better, less pale, more like her old chatty self, though grief hit her, just as it hit me and Peter, at the most unlikely of times. The smallest of things triggered extreme reactions in all of us. Since the bank holiday weekend, we had all managed to keep the channels of communication open, at least on the surface. Peter and I had stopped tiptoeing around each other, he drank less, and I came home earlier and spent the evenings with him.

We began taking the dogs out together after work. It was easier to talk while walking, without the pressure of being sat together. While our relationship was nowhere near back to where it should be, it was a vast improvement on the frozen silences of the past six months.

After being persuaded to make a pitstop at a local pub on the way home one evening, I realised how much I missed physical contact with Peter. Our sex life had become non-existent, and we barely shared a peck on the cheek anymore. Sitting in the beer garden on our own, with the low spring sun on my back, I leant into him and kissed his mouth. He pulled away a little and then kissed me back with a passion that surprised me.

‘I miss you,’ I said, when we parted.

He put a hand up to my cheek for a moment, looking into my face, as if seeing me for the first time, then stood up, took my hand and pulled me up.

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