Free The Moment You Were Gone by Nicci Gerrard Page A

a bit of travelling to “broaden my mind”, a steady girlfriend, all that kind of middle-class crap.’
    ‘And then this.’
    ‘I know it’s not much, really.’
    ‘It’s enough,’ she said, remembering her miscarriage when Ethan was a toddler and her sense of precariousness, of a blithely planned future crumbling in front of her.
    ‘Well, I’ve not got terminal cancer or walked across a continent to find a safe haven or lost my parents in a fire or anything dramatic. It’s nothing historic, just the same little things that happen to everyone. If they’re lucky, that is. But I was thinking last night how unfamiliar everything looked now, like when you drive at night and you haveto really concentrate because you don’t know what’s round the corner any more. Everything looks different. You can’t think about much else. Wow, I’m really tired, you know.’
    He pulled up the sash window and the sounds of the campus poured into the room. He lit another cigarette and drew on it deeply; she saw the hollows sucked into his cheeks. Then he smiled at Gaby through the blue smoke. ‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘I’ll be fine. And you’ve got to go now.’
    ‘I can stay as long as you want. We could have a walk and get a bite to eat …’
    ‘Nah. I kind of want to get on with things.’
    ‘But –’
    ‘Come on, Mum. Goodbye time. I’ll be back before you know it anyway – you’ll hardly have time to clean my room, if that’s what you were planning to do, before I come and mess it up again.’
    ‘Are you all right for money?’
    ‘We’ve been through this.’
    ‘OK. But if you need anything …’
    ‘Yeah, yeah.’
    ‘And, Ethan …’
    ‘What?’
    ‘I don’t know what I was going to say.’
    ‘I do, though. You were going to say, “Take care, and don’t worry, and time heals, and work hard but not too hard, and ring home often but not so often that you’ll start worrying I’m wretched, and eat healthy food sometimes, and make new friends, and don’t smoke so much or take too many drugs, or any drugs, and be careful on your bike.”’
    ‘You forgot “And I love you very much. And I’m very proud of you.” I was going to end on that. Unironically.’
    He stubbed out his cigarette on the windowsill and chucked it outside. ‘It’s been a nice childhood,’ he said. ‘Don’t cry.’
    ‘I’m not sad, just emotional. Anyway, you’re crying too.’
    ‘Of course I am.’ He put his arms round her and lifted her up so that her feet dangled above the ground and one shoe slipped and hung from her toe. Then he lowered her and let her go. ‘See you,’ he said.
    Gaby walked through Exeter in the drizzle, not sure where she was headed. The streets were full of young students, jostling and laughing, moving in clotted groups, and among them she felt muted, like a charcoal figure among all the vivid oil-painted ones. She had the sense that nobody could see her, and that if she opened her mouth to speak, nobody would hear the words. Her body was heavy and slow; her sinuses ached with unshed tears and her throat hurt. She wished she could speak to Connor. She wanted to hear his voice as a reminder of the world she was returning to.
    The station was a few minutes away, and when she looked at her watch she saw that if she hurried she could still get the 15.01 express to London. But she didn’t want to hurry – or, at least, she couldn’t seem to make herself do anything more than dawdle along the crowded weekend streets. Each step seemed to take a long time; she heard her feet slap against the damp pavement, and she moved as in a dream past shops and cafés. Sometimesshe glimpsed her reflection, among all the other reflected figures, and was surprised how upright, energetic, full of purpose she looked.
    Without knowing that she was going to, she turned up an alley and entered a dark little café. The humid warmth embraced her, the hiss of the espresso machine and the melodic chink of cups. She ordered a