The Marriage - K.L. Slater (story books to read .TXT) 📗

had been holding back since we’d picked him up, and that it would be momentous.

My eyes met his and I saw dread there, a silent pleading. His face looked thinner, paler, and I knew whatever he was about to tell us would change everything.

Finally I let go of the breath I’d been holding and Robert sat back down. ‘Well all right, if it can’t wait. Lord knows, I haven’t missed this sort of drama in the house.’

‘Look, I want to say thanks. For everything you’ve both done. Especially you, Mum.’ Tom spoke as if he’d rehearsed the words. ‘Whatever you think of me when you hear what’s coming next, I do appreciate your efforts and I’m sorry for bringing shame on the family.’

Was he talking about the night Jesse died, or was it to do with what he was about to say?

His voice sounded so thin and shaky, I squeezed my thighs together under the table, trying to give myself some fortitude. ‘You’ve never brought shame on us,’ I said faintly.

A thick silence fell over the three of us then like a blanket of snow arriving without warning. Tom stared down at the table as if he’d forgotten we were there at all, and Robert sat perfectly still, staring ahead.

‘You don’t know this, Mum, but about two years ago, I started to take part in a programme at the prison. Have either of you heard of restorative justice?’

He looked up. At me and then at Robert.

‘I have, yes,’ Robert said shortly. ‘All about making amends for your crime, isn’t it?’

‘That’s part of it.’ Tom turned to me. ‘The programme focuses on reconciliation with victims and their families, Mum.’

I frowned. ‘But Jesse isn’t here to reconcile with any more.’ The smell of the lasagne, the burned rosemary scattered on the table, was making me feel nauseous.

Tom looked down and knotted his fingers together. I became aware of Robert’s breathing growing heavier.

‘Bridget joined the programme too,’ Tom said carefully.

‘What? How do you know that?’ I was failing to make sense of the information. I knew I was missing something big, but the connection wouldn’t come.

Tom continued. ‘We both agreed to give the programme a go. Once a fortnight we met up and with the help of the programme leaders we—’

‘You’ve been meeting up with Bridget?’ I whispered. ‘How is that allowed in prison?’

‘That’s what this programme is all about, Mum. Recognising the harm I did and trying to put it right with Jesse’s family – his mum.’

‘Well now I’ve heard it all,’ Robert snorted.

My entire body felt rigid. Frozen. ‘I can’t believe they’ve had you going cap in hand to that woman.’ I had to force the words out and swallow down the fire that burned in my chest and throat.

‘It was voluntary. Nobody forced me to do anything.’

‘What happened to Jesse, it was an accident. You said so yourself! You didn’t mean for him to die.’

‘But he did die,’ Tom said simply, turning his palms upward as if he wanted to show me he wasn’t hiding anything. ‘Accident or not, Jesse isn’t here any more because of me. Don’t you see that?’

‘He came at you with a knife and so it was self-defence! You should never have received such a long sentence.’

‘The jury decided it was my fault that Jesse died that night and found me guilty.’ Tom chanted the words sing-song style, clearly fed up with telling me the same thing again and again. ‘I had the choice to walk away when things became heated outside the nightclub, but I didn’t. I take full responsibility for that and I’ll never forgive myself for it.’

I stared at the wall. I’d visited Tom twice a month for the duration of his sentence, and I knew nothing about this ridiculous programme. I knew nothing of Bridget secretly attending the sessions. I had noticed a change in him, though. He’d been more upbeat in a way I couldn’t put my finger on. He’d looked brighter, sat up a bit straighter, though I’d put it down to his release date drawing closer. I’d assumed it was because he was finally coming home to us.

When Tom was sixteen, he’d started training at a local boxing club. It quickly became clear to the coach there – a local man called Kenny – that he had the skills and dexterity to become an excellent amateur boxer. He started training several times a week, but the thing was, he never told us. He’d taken part in his first two amateur fights before someone asked Robert if the hot young boxer beating everyone he fought was his son.

Robert seemed impressed, said he hadn’t thought Tom had it in him, but I’d disapproved. I found boxing a barbaric sport, but more to the point, why on earth hadn’t he told us what he was doing? I’d felt perplexed why he would enter into something so serious without consulting us. I never got an answer.

‘You’re finally seeing what I’ve known all along, that our son has a sly, secretive side,’ Robert had said.

Tom had continued to box and had been successful, but it had ultimately been his downfall. The court treated the single punch he’d administered to Jesse as an intentionally lethal blow, and he’d received a far tougher sentence because of it.

Tom was still looking at me, his cheeks flushed. ‘There’s something else, Mum,’ he said, falteringly. ‘Something that’s going to come as quite a shock. I’m sorry about that, but I—’

‘What’s that?’ Robert tipped his head, listening, and Tom stopped speaking, swallowing hard.

Then I heard it too. A tentative knock.

‘Someone’s at the door,’ I said, standing up, my hands flat on the table. ‘I’ll go. I’ll get rid of them.’

‘No, no … I’ll go. Let me.’ Tom moved quickly into the hallway. ‘Wait there, both of you. I’ll be back in a moment.’

Robert gave a derisory sniff and threw me his ‘I told you so’ look.

We sat in silence as the front door opened and closed. I heard Tom’s voice,