A LIFE MADE OF LAVA

by Del, Lissa

  “I bet she’s a farter,” I whisper.

  Nick only smiles as he takes my hand in his own, a dry, comforting warmth against my clammy skin. His thumb traces lazy circles on my palm but I can hear the gentle, persistent tapping of his foot against the tiled floor, a symptom of the distress he is hiding so well. He stays far longer than necessary, but I don’t tell him to leave. Hospitals frighten me now, more than before. Every time I enter one I wonder if it’ll be the last time. Thankfully, my brain doesn’t have much time to conjure up the worst. I don’t know what that nurse snuck into my IV, but I feel myself becoming sluggish, my eyelids too heavy to hold open. Finally, I doze off.

  ‘Evie,” Nick whispers, his hand still holding mine.

  “Hmmm?”

  “I’m going to go.”

  “M’kay.”

  “I’ll be back soon,” Nick promises, through the haze of medication. “I’ll bring the kids through at visiting hours.”

  I try to smile, but I’m not sure if it shows.

  27

  Julia

  The kids are quiet, which is never a good sign. They’ve been subdued since Nick and Evie left for the hospital and I found Jesse crying in his room shortly after. He won’t open up about it, though, well at least not to me. I feel helpless and my cheeks hurt from trying to fake-smile the children’s fears away. I’ve made hot chocolate and popcorn, offered to play board games, and, in desperation even brought out Evie’s secret stash of candy, but although they eat and drink everything, it doesn’t rouse them from their melancholy.

  It’s that much harder to reassure them because I’m worried about Evie, too. It’s been four hours since she left. If everything was fine, surely she’d be back by now? Thinking of Evie brings a nasty serpent of guilt to life in my stomach. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to get things back to normal, back to when Nick and Evie were just two good people I adored equally, two people who I admired and respected and would do anything for. So far, it hasn’t worked. Nothing seems to be able to dull the inner monologue that has been on a constant loop in my head since last night.

  What are you doing, Julia?

  It had been an innocent mistake. Nick had offered to help me with the dishes and somewhere between teasing me about my inability to rinse properly and finding a roach in the bottom of the pasta pot, his hand had brushed against mine. That contact had jolted me, far more than it should have. He’d seen it, too, I know he had. His eyes had widened at the sight of my face and he’d dropped the drying-up cloth and stalked out without saying another word. Whether it was out of pity or anger, I don’t know, and I don’t know which would be worse.

  Or maybe he didn’t notice and my guilt is messing with my head. Either way, I can’t understand why it happened. Why did his touch jolt me so violently? Because you like him, the inner voice whispers evilly, and I flush with shame and despair because what kind of monster could have feelings for a man whose wife is dying? All in all, this has been a shitty day.

  When Nick gets home, his face is grey beneath his suntan.

  “How did it go?” I whisper, conscious of the children in the next room.

  “She’s got pneumonia. They’re keeping her in for observation.”

  “For how long?

  “A day or two. She’ll be fine,” he adds for my benefit and the snake in my belly twists painfully. “She said to tell you she’s sorry but you’ll have to cook and clean while she binge-reads Jilly Cooper.”

  Typical Evie.

  “God broke the mould after making her,” I say without thinking, but Nick smiles.

  “No doubt about that.”

  I’m infinitely relieved that things don’t seem to be weird between us. As Nick plays games with the children to keep their minds off Evie’s absence, I wander around the house, picking up stray toys and straightening beds that I’ve already straightened. I’ve almost managed to convince myself that I imagined what happened last night when Kat and Ian arrive.

  “We were just on our way to see her,” I hear Kat telling Nick, “but we thought we’d pop in to see how you were doing? Do you need anything, is there anything we can do?”

  “I’m fine, Kat. Julia’s here and she’ll do the school run tomorrow as usual. Thanks though.”

  “Where is Julia?” Ian’s voice is sharp, pained.

  “Upstairs, I think.”

  I move away from the top of the stairs so they won’t see me.

  “Hey kids!” Kat must have entered the living-room, but her voice carries to where I stand, clear as day. “What are you guys doing?” I hear mumbled replies before Kat continues. “Sounds like fun.” A pause. “No, I don’t really know how to play that, but you carry on.”

  I smile to myself. Kat really is awful with kids but I like her because she’s honest and direct.

  “Nick, can I talk to you for a second?” It’s Ian’s voice, closer than Kat’s, and then the sound of retreating footsteps. They must have gone into the kitchen. Kat comes upstairs and I nip into the bathroom so that she doesn’t catch me eavesdropping.

  I flush the toilet and then wash my hands before opening the door. Kat is standing right outside it.

  “I thought I heard your voice,” I say. Her painted lips split in a knowing smile that makes me wonder how discreet I’d been entering the bathroom. “I’ve been meaning to thank you,” I say quickly, before she can question it, “for putting my dad on the company’s private health benefits.”

  Kat shrugs. “It’s standard for all employees.”

  “Yes, but not all your employees are in desperate need of a new prosthesis.”

  “I noticed his limp is becoming more pronounced. Is it bothering him?”

  “A bit,” I admit, then quickly add, “not enough to interfere with his duties, but it’s not comfortable. He endures it, but a replacement would do wonders for his quality of life.”

  “I’ll make sure our policy covers it,” Kat says. “And if not, I’ll upgrade his plan.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Your dad’s turning my yard around. It’s the least I can do. Besides, he’s already saved me so much money it’ll pay for itself.”

  She looks set to say something else, when the sound of raised voices interrupts.

  “Is that Nick?” I ask, horrified. Without even thinking I rush down the stairs.

  “You don’t get to have an opinion!” Nick is roaring as Kat and I skid to a halt at the kitchen door. “Now get out of my house before I throw you out!”

  “Nick!” I hiss, casting a concerned glance over my shoulder to where the children are sitting at the table, their eyes round with fright. Nick seems to come to his senses, but he’s shaking with rage.

  “Don’t threaten me,” Ian warns.

  “It’s not a threat, Ian,” Nick murmurs, so the children can’t hear. “It’s a promise. Now get the fuck out of my house.”

  I turn my back on the cold fury that is so out of character and smile at Jesse, Dylan and Casey.

  “Let’s go and play outside!” I announce brightly.

  Kat catches my eye. “That’s a fabulous idea!” she says, “come on boys, you can teach me how to kick a ball.”

  Jesse skulks out, but Dylan pauses, eyeing Kat’s stiletto-heeled boot with dubious suspicion. Casey takes my hand as we go, her small fingers clutching at mine for security.

  “Daddy said ‘fuck’,” she whispers.

  “Yes, he did,” I tell her, crouching down so my face is on the same level as hers. “But I’m sure it was an accident.”

  “It’s a grown-up word,” she tells me conspiratorially, as if I might not know.

  “It is a grown-up word,” I say, “but it’s not a very nice word. I don’t think you should say it.”

  “I don’t!”

  “Good girl.” We’ve reached the patio. “Why don’t we sit here and watch aunty Kat play ball with Jesse and Dylan.”

  Casey giggles.

  “What?”

  “She’s
not our aunty.”

  “Well, not technically, but she’s like an aunty, don’t you think?”

  Casey looks over at Kat as if trying to decide and we both jump at the sound of the front door slamming. I resist the urge to check on Nick, but I notice Kat throwing dark looks inside while she tries to keep up with Jesse’s impressive footwork.

  When Dylan scores his third goal, the ball rolling so slowly between Kat’s feet that I probably could’ve sauntered over and stopped it myself, Kat throws up her hands in defeat.

  “You win!” she says. She leaves the game to the boys and flops onto the sofa opposite me. Casey is playing on my phone, but I reach for it anyway. I know it isn’t good for her to spend too much time on electronic devices, even if it is the easiest way to distract her when we need to.

  “Case, why don’t you go and get your brush and a hair-tie and I’ll do an Elsa braid in your hair,” I tell her when she opens her mouth to protest.

  “Okay.” She hops down and toddles off. I watch her go, craning my neck to see if I can catch a glimpse of Nick.

  “I suspected that might happen,” Kat says, following the direction of my gaze. “Those two have been circling a blow-out for years, it was bound to happen. It’s also why I told Ian to bring his own car,” she adds, smug in the knowledge of being right, even under the current circumstances.

  “Do you have any idea what it’s about? I’ve never seen Nick lose his cool like that.”

  Kat leans forward. “What do you think it was about?” She fixes me with that cool stare as if daring me to act ignorant.

  “Evie,” I answer, without any hesitation. “Ian’s in love with Evie.”

  Kat sits back, her fingers picking at a loose thread on the cushion beside her. “He’s always loved her,” she confirms. “Since the very beginning – before she and Nick even got together, I think.”

  “Does Nick know?”

  “Of course he knows. Anyone with eyes can tell how Ian feels about Evie, even Evie.”

  It’s no surprise that Evie knows. Shrewd and smart, she doesn’t miss a thing.

  “How does Nick stand it?”

  Kat glances at the sliding-door. Nick is somewhere beyond the glass, in what mood neither of us know. “He knows she loves him,” Kat murmurs. “It’s only ever been him. He’s never had any competition. And neither has she.” She holds my gaze at that, and I feel like there’s a hidden message in her words. Never have I been so happy to see Casey as she toddles up to me with her pink hairbrush and a handful of colourful hair-ties.

  “Is this the first time they’ve come to blows over it?” I ask, pulling Casey’s hair back and brushing it out.

  Kat sighs. “Yes. Sadly, I think the time is coming for our little foursome to part company. The sicker Evie gets, the more desperate Ian becomes. Somehow, in his head, he’s convinced himself that he would be better for her – that Nick isn’t doing enough.” She laughs, and it’s a hollow, brittle sound.

  “Nick would do anything for Evie,” I snap, filled with anger at Ian for thinking otherwise.

  Kat smiles, a sad smile filled with pity. “I know he would,” she says. “And so does Evie.”

  28

  Nick

  Evie is awake when we arrive for the evening visiting hour, and her colour is already much improved. She makes the usual motherly fuss over the scraggy bouquet of flowers which Casey picked herself and which Julia saved from being utterly awful by tying it together with a pale pink ribbon.

  “Did you pick these yourself?” Evie asks, as if such a thing couldn’t possibly be true. Casey nods proudly. “They’re beautiful!” Evie announces. Evie’s never cared if the kids denuded every plant in the garden so long as they were having fun. Flowers are for picking, she insists.

  “This is my friend, Mrs Hinchcliff,” Evie adds, gesturing at the large woman still occupying the bed opposite. Mrs Hinchcliff is smiling, her treble chins curved softly upward.

  “It’s wonderful to meet you,” she says, in a voice like gravel. “I’ve heard so much about you children already, from your mom. Now, let me guess.” She taps her topmost chin with a podgy finger before pointing it at the kids in turn. “Jesse. Dylan. Casey?”

  Casey giggles.

  “How did she know?” Dylan whispers, his eyes wide.

  “Maybe she’s magic?” I mock-whisper back.

  Jesse sniggers.

  “Are you sick?” Casey asks from the safety of Evie’s lap.

  “I was,” Mrs Hinchcliff replies, “but I’m better now. I’m going home tomorrow.”

  “Speaking of going home,” I say, turning my attention back to Evie. “Did the doctors say when you could come home?”

  “Probably on Tuesday or Wednesday. Unless you want to break me out?”

  Dylan narrows his eyes and peers around, as if contemplating how to do just that.

  “You stay here until you’re one hundred percent well,” I tell her. “We’ll be fine.”

  The arrival of Mrs Hinchcliff’s family – two sons, one daughter-in-law and an impish-looking child who is so stick-thin it seems impossible that she could be any relation to the titanic woman – results in curtains being drawn to afford both families some privacy.

  “What happened?” I ask, jerking my head toward the closed curtain in the direction of Mrs Hinchcliff’s bed.

  “Gallstones,” she whispers back. “She had her gall bladder remo-” she cuts off abruptly. The kids are all listening. “Anyway, she’s fine now,” she finishes lamely.

  It’s only well after the other visitors have left, and Casey and Dylan have upended a bottle of sanitizer all over the floor, that the nurse insists we leave.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I tell Evie, squeezing her hand. I hate leaving her. She looks so small in the stark white bed, I want to pick her up and whisk her home like one of Jesse’s knights, raise the drawbridge, draw my sword and challenge anyone who tries to take her from us. Still, she looks better than she has in weeks. The fluid IV must be giving her a lot more than just antibiotics and there’s a rosy sheen to her cheeks that’s been missing for some time.

  I turn back as I reach the door. “I’ll miss you,” I say softly.

  Evie’s face splits into a devilish grin. “Speak for yourself. I get time to myself to binge-watch Game of Thrones while you and Julia deal with the kids. It’s like a mini getaway, and I don’t even have to cook.”

  “Yeah, well you better not get used to it,” I tease. Evie gives me a cheerful wave and then I’m out in the hall, the kids trailing behind me.

  The kids are more cheerful on the drive home now that they’ve seen Evie and know she’s okay. The chorus of three high-pitched voices all trying to be heard is welcome, but I still heave a sigh of relief when I pull into the driveway. Julia comes out to the car to help bring the children inside.

  “I’ve made something super special for dinner!” she sings, trying to lighten what she has assumed will be a far more sombre mood. The smell hits me the second I walk into the house. I’d recognise the smell anywhere – the smell of perfectly roasted beef. It’s one of my favourites. I peek through the glass door of the oven.

  “No way! Are those Yorkshire puddings?”

  Julia smiles. “They are.”

  “I haven’t had Yorkshire pudding in years!”

  “What’s a your-sure pudding?” Casey demands.

  “A piece of heaven, Case.” I lift her up so she can see.

  She side-eyes me. “It’s a muffin?”

  “It’s not a muffin. It’s so much better than a muffin. You’ll see. I haven’t had roast beef since my dad’s birthday,” I tell Julia. “And my mom always overcooks it.”

  “No pressure,” she laughs.

  “They’re definitely muffins,” Casey sniffs, unimpressed.

  “How’s Evie?” Julia asks, pouring an entire jug filled with stock into the pan of meat juices. The kids love gravy.

  “She’s fine. She might have to stay an extra night, but she looks
better already.”

  “Oh, good. I’m so pleased to hear it.”

  Knowing that Evie is doing better, that the kids are in a good mood and the prospect of enjoying my favourite supper has raised my spirits but I must stink like a pole-cat with all the running around I did today.

  “Do you mind if I take a quick shower before dinner?” I ask, giving Julia an apologetic look. “Of course.” She doesn’t turn around, but waves the wooden spoon over her shoulder. “Go ahead.”

  As I bound up the stairs I hear Casey remarking that Julia’s muffins are enormous and the sound of Julia’s laughter echoes my own.

  We sit at the table. I pour myself a glass of wine and one for Julia.

  “Evie always says that it’s the least the chef deserves,” I tell her when she hesitates. “Although, in Evie’s case, it’s a bottle, not one glass.”

  The Yorkshire puddings disappear faster than Jesse’s sense of humour on chore day, and, to my surprise, Julia keeps the conversation flowing easily. She really is remarkable with the kids, I find myself thinking. I should know by now that Evie is always right.

  In the time that it takes to read the kids their bedtime story, the kitchen is spotless.

  “I would’ve done that,” I tell Julia, who is packing away the last of the dishes.

  She ignores me. “Are they sleeping?”

  “Yeah. Jesse’s reading, but he’s tired. He’ll be out soon.”

  I refill my glass and look up to find Julia staring at me. Her brown eyes look black in the artificial light, all pupil. It’s unnerving. “What?”

  “I… I wanted to know if you were okay. You and Ian, well, things got pretty heated today and I know it’s none of my business but Kat mentioned how he feels about Evie.”