I cry like I’ve seen mourners cry on the news at bomb sites. I cry in a way we Brits tend to find overly dramatic, incredibly awkward, and not a little unseemly. If he didn’t band his arms even more tightly against me, I would certainly fall to my knees. I’m practically bent over with the relief of it all and the grief of it all, with a tidal wave of emotions I can barely make sense of. Emotions I’ve pushed down and down and which now have me in their chokehold. Emotions, it seems, that have no intention of going back in that very effective bottle of mine.

As I fall apart in spectacular, horrifying style, Brendan holds me under the water, rocking us gently, whispering words of reassurance and praise, the same words I’ve whispered to Tabby over and over this week, words with whom parents have comforted their children through the ages.

That’s it. Let it all out.

Such a brave girl.

I’m so proud of you.

You did it.

It’s over now.

Everything’s going to be okay.

You don’t have to worry.

I’m here now.

You’re not alone anymore.

I’m not leaving you, I promise.

CHAPTER 46

Brendan

Idon’t know whether to be terrified or relieved that Marlowe has broken down so spectacularly. I think I’m a bit of both.

I’ve never seen her like this. This isn’t a chink in her armour: it’s as if every last wall has come crashing down, allowing the beautiful, brave woman within to bare herself. To recognise her needs and to let them sing. Her physical nakedness seems symbolic of this emotional collapse.

Impulse control has never been my thing, but the force that propelled me to get on that plane, to go to her, wasn’t a mere impulse—more an instinct of rightness. And while I may have second-guessed that instinct most of the way over the Atlantic, I couldn’t be more relieved that she’s unburdening herself on me so freely.

I won’t flatter myself that she trusts me now, that she’s forgotten the things I tried to make her do—things that make me burn with shame now that I know the full picture. It’s more that I’m here, that she needs someone to parent her after going through God knows what without any real support. But I’d like to think it’s also a testament to the relationship we’d built before I got the fear and behaved like a twat. Transactional it may be, but it’s given us a level of familiarity, of intimacy that stands us in good stead now.

I’d like to think she wouldn’t jump into the shower with just anyone.