‘He was always saying there must be something behind the picture. I’d love there to be more of a story for you all. But there’s not. I even went all the way to Bangkok to try and figure it out—’

‘Wait, Chloe. Jack was always saying there was something behind the picture?’

‘Always.’

Trish and John share a glance.

‘Knowing Jack,’ she says, ‘he probably meant there was something behind the picture.’

‘Huh?’

‘Our darling boy was a great many things,’ John says, tenderly, ‘but he was not cryptic. There was nobody more transparent than Jack. He simply said what he meant. But I don’t mean to patronise, love. I’m sure you knew that.’

‘So you think Jack meant that there’s something – an actual something – behind the picture?’

Trish brings her shoulder to her ears, slowly, then releases, turning back to play with Freddie’s hair.

Something behind the picture?

Some … thing?

If so, what?

42

‘Well it’s obviously gonna be a ring,’ Beth says, her hair and body wrapped tight with towels.

‘Don’t be daft, pal. Jack wouldn’t put a bloody ring behind it.’

‘You won’t know ’til you look.’

‘Beth. Please.’

‘What?’

‘Jack wasn’t corny like that.’

‘To be fair, babes, you only knew him for five minutes. Oops. I mean months.’

God, she is such a brazen little bitch, isn’t she? Sitting on her throne – yes, a throne – stylishly placed beside the bay window of her new home in a building called (no word of a lie) ‘Princess Mansions’.

‘Watch your gobby mouth,’ I tell her. ‘You’ve only been with Paul Rudd for five minutes and he’s already got a key.’

‘I can always change the locks, can’t I?’

The drive from the Carmichaels’ back to Beth’s took forever. I got every single red light. I want to be home. In my home. Our home. Whatever Jack put behind that picture is exactly what I’m ready for. I’m sure of it. Beth can see I’m itching.

‘You better get going,’ Beth says, unravelling the towel from her head and shaking out her wet hair. ‘Paul Rudd’ll be here in a mo and last time he came over, he had a rose between his teeth.’

‘Gross.’

‘You know I love that shit.’

‘Do I look okay?’

‘Honestly, you need your roots doing. But I’m sick of telling you. Why?’

I want to feel good when I look behind the picture. Can’t pinpoint why. That sounds insane in my head, so imagine how Beth would react if I told her.

‘Oh, babes. It’s your birthday. I thought we were ignoring it, but are you feeling a bit …’ she lowers her voice, scrunches her petite nose, ‘old?’

‘We’re still ignoring it.’

‘’Cause you definitely look younger than thirty-seven. By a couple of years at least.’

‘An honest compliment. Ta. Right, I’m off. Be careful with Paul Rudd.’