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Back The House by the Sea Save as PDF
Chapters (71)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. 58
  61. 59
  62. 60
  63. 61
  64. 62
  65. 63
  66. 64
  67. 65
  68. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  69. MORE FROM LOUISE DOUGLAS
  70. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  71. ABOUT BOLDWOOD BOOKS

I couldn’t get comfortable that night, and I blamed Joe for that too, because I was the one who had reached the shaft first, I was the one who had fallen, I was the one who’d broken my hip and all the bones in my leg and my ankle. I’d rolled from one side to the other, shifting my weight, trying to find a position that didn’t hurt. The bed was too small, the room too small, I was too hot; Joe, beside me, snored drunkenly. His sweat stank; he hadn’t brushed his teeth for days; he was disgusting; he disgusted me. I welcomed the hate; I embraced it. That night, we lay together, in the dark, so close you could hardly fit a cigarette paper between our bodies, and yet we were a million miles apart, and even if I’d had any idea how to bridge the gap between us, I wouldn’t have wanted to. I hated him because of what Anna had done. Because of Anna, Joe and I had lost Daniel, and everything else we had, everything that was meaningful or precious, everything we had nurtured and worked for, turned out not to mean anything or be worth anything after all. It was Anna’s fault, but Joe could have stopped it happening. He could have.

I had risen early the next morning and left the flat. I didn’t take anything. I didn’t leave a note, I just went, and after that I only communicated with Joe through solicitors. In my half sleep, ten years later, I felt regret I hadn’t felt before. I saw how easy it would have been for me to turn towards Joe, instead of away from him. How little effort it would have taken to try to make things better, how few gentle words. But I hadn’t seen it then and neither had he. It was too late to try to change things now, pointless apologising for what we had and had not done or said a decade before.

20

Joe was already up when I woke the next morning. I heard his footsteps on the landing, muffled sounds from one of the bedrooms. I lay for a while, but soon curiosity compelled me to get up. The door to the master bedroom was open.

‘Joe?’

He didn’t respond.

I crept along the landing and looked through the open door. There was no sign of Joe, but the curtain that separated the alcove from the rest of the room had been drawn back.

I walked forward, slowly, floorboards creaking beneath my bare feet.