Page 156 of Pretty Mess

“I don’t think you were born then, dear. And I’m rather older than your brother.”

“Oh god, you’re right. I never think of age with us. You’re just you, and I’m just me.” I reach up and cup his face, surprised at how he nestles into my palm. It’s so trusting and almost innocent that I feel a fierce wave of protectiveness. I remember his grandfather and the mystery of their relationship. “What about your mum’s family? Couldn’t she have gone to them?”

“She did. He turned her away, telling her she was on her own. She’d made her bed, and she and her child should lie in it. By all accounts, he was a very stubborn man.” He smiles, but it isn’t a pleasant smile. “I say by all accounts, because I don’t know him.He had me in his house and didn’t even know who I was. I was a stranger to him.”

“Didn’t he recognise your name?”

He pats my hand. “I don’t think he ever knew my first name, and I took my godfather’s surname many years ago.”

“I’m so sorry I tried to lecture you that day.”

He looks astonished. “You were right to do so.”

“No, I wasn’t. I don’t blame you for wanting to raze that fucking house to the ground,” I say fiercely. “In fact, I’ll bloody help you.”

“You are a loyal friend, Wes. It’s why people love you so much.”

I squeeze his hand. “You don’t have to tell me any more, if it’s hurting you. I don’t want that.Ever.”

He moves back and kisses my palm. His dark head is bent over my hand, examining it as if he’ll discover the secrets of the world in the lines there. Then he squeezes it. “Don’t let go.”

“Never.”

He faces forward again. “It seemed a long time to me as a child, but I think her deterioration was actually shockingly sudden. She couldn’t cope without him, you see.” He shoots me a glance out of the side of his eye. “He was her mirror image, and she was broken into pieces without him. She wanted no part of the world if he wasn’t there. That’s love, I suppose.”

I know there are many types of love, but this doesn’t seem particularly healthy. I keep my mouth shut. It’s becoming horribly obvious why Mac steers clear of any and all emotion. I wonder where his mum is and if they still have a relationship. “So, then what happened?”

“Ah, now we come to the bit I really don’t remember much about, and I have to say it’s a memory I willnotbe looking to get back.” My stomach tightens uneasily. “I remember her tellingme to get in the car. I remember trying to fasten my seat belt because she was drunk.”

“Oh god.”

He nods. “In all honesty, she was drunk most of the time. The coroner said she was seven times over the legal limit, and he was amazed she could stand, let alone drive. I just knew she was cheerful for once.” Dread steels over me as he carries on talking. His voice is now completely monotone and almost robotic. “We were staying with my godfather in his old house in Monaco. She took the coast road which is very steep with hairpin bends. There have been many accidents there. We were just one of them.”

“Oh god, babe. I’m so sorry.”

He carries on talking as if he hadn’t heard me. “I remember the car swerving and the sight of the sky. It seemed so wide and blue. And then nothing. Apparently, when the medics found us, I was sitting by the car. I’d been thrown free. I have the faulty seat belt to thank for that.”

I note that he doesn’t say he was sitting with his mum. Even then, he must have steered clear of her, and the fact that a child wouldn’t seek comfort from the one person meant to provide it makes my heart hurt.

He gestures to his stomach. “That scar you mentioned.”

“Oh god, was that from the accident?”

He nods. “A piece of metal was in my side. They took it out in the hospital. My mother died instantly of a broken neck.”

“Mac.”

He startles as if coming out of a dream.

“It sounds like she was out of her mind with grief. Accidents happen.”

He stares at me. “Accidents?”

Something cold travels down my spine. “Yes?”

He shakes his head almost pityingly. “It was deliberate, Wes.”

“What?” I gasp.