Page 125 of How We Began

“You’ve grown up, Lilah.” She gives my leg a pat. “But you’ve got a bit more to do. This Ben and you, it doesn’t sound run of the mill to me.” I’m not sure what a run of the mill relationship is, but maybe she’s talking about the kind of thing I had with John, where sparks didn’t exist and it didn’t feel like I was going to die every time I couldn’t talk to him or touch him.

“I can’t keep him, Mum. I’m not strong enough to deal with it.” I pulled the duvet up. “Hell, look at me! He’s only been gone a week and I’m a mess. I’ll always be paranoid about what he’s up to because I think I’m not good enough for him.”

“Rubbish, Lilah! You’re good enough for anyone you want. You just can’t see it. Now, Darling, let’s get dressed and go find Daddy.”

I groaned and hid my head in the pillow. I couldn’t face Dad, but Mum just sat there watching me until I finally got up and went to splash my face with cold water.

Then I put on a brave face to see Dad who was sitting downstairs on Mum’s floral sofa in the living room. My composure lasted a whole second until I crumple and threw myself into his arms.

“Dad, I am so sorry,” I blubbed. “I didn’t realise what you did for me. I just thought I was never good enough to make you proud.”

Mum tutted in the background. “Well done, Jack. You have made our daughter have no self-confidence at all.”

A flicker of frustration crossed Dad’s face, and just for once I didn’t think it was aimed at me. “Lilah, I’ve only ever been proud of you. I just couldn’t let you go.” He cleared his throat. “And I was wrong to try and make you come back to the bank. Let’s just forget all about it.”

“It’s okay, Dad,” I had a thought. “Can I stay here for Easter Sunday?”

My question was met by a pair of relieved smiles.

“That would be lovely! What’s your brother doing?” Mum asked.

“I’m not sure, but, actually, could we keep it just us.”

I can’t be around Tristan and Meredith all loved up right now.

“Lilah.” Dad hesitated. “Shall I try and stop the flat being sold.” He shook his head and then leaned closer and kissed the side of my head. “I’m sorry, I’ve been a total pillock.”

I snorted a laugh. “Actually, Dad, you know what? I think Tristan and I have it sorted.”

I then spent the next half an hour telling them in great detail of the place we are buying. Mum got all excited and grabbed her home-decorating magazines and we spent the evening going over possibilities for the new place. Mum’s ideas are probably slightly out of our budget though.

I’d never have thought that I’d be spending Easter with my parents. Now that I’m here, I can’t think of anything better. Well, actually I can, but I push that thought and all other thoughts to do with Ben and babies from my mind.

31st March

Easter Sunday. The day when we celebrate the death of Jesus Christ by gorging ourselves on chocolate. I’m not sure what the religious significance of chocolate is, but I’m pleased Mum has a stash of the good stuff on hand.

We’re having a very naughty breakfast of Bloody Mary’s (and, yes, they are very bloody), with dark chocolate when the doorbell rings. Mum and I stared at each other in shock. We were both sitting in our pyjama’s, hair all over the place. Not even hygiene is more important than chocolate. Dad was dressed, so he went to answer the door.

“Tristan,” I guessed. “He’s probably jealous he’s missing out.”

Bloody child.

Nope. Not Tristan.

“Hello, Mr. McCannon.” I heard from the hallway. “My name is Ben Chambers. Is Lilah here?”

What the fuck?

Mum stared at me with an open mouth for a moment. “Yes, Lilah. This one sounds terrible. You must let him escape.”

I couldn’t even think of a witty response, as my mind spun into free fall and my legs started shaking, even though I was sitting down. I swallowed as Ben strode down the hallway towards the kitchen, very commanding and self-assured, until he came to a stop by the kitchen table.

“Lilah! What are you doing here?” The blues searched my face intently.

“Spending Easter with my family.”

He raised an eyebrow at my use of the word ‘family.’ “Where the hell is your phone?”