The Reunion

desperate to get Andrew to race him?’ Natalie looked over at him, but Dan didn’t meet her eye. ‘You probably didn’t. After all, he missed that bit out in his own
fictional
account of what happened that day.’
    ‘Please, Nat.’ Andrew reached over the table to take her hand, but she withdrew it.
    ‘No, Andrew, I’m sorry. It’s about time everyone here really did face up to things. Like the fact that Conor wasn’t a saint, or the fact that Jen punished us,
all
of us, by leaving the way she did…’ Jen looked stricken, but Natalie didn’t care. She was past caring, she was tired of feeling sorry for Jen, for Jen’s loss. What about her husband’s loss? No one ever talked about that. Andrew’s loss was just as deep, unfathomable, endless. His best friend, his career, his prospects, his future, the wonderful life he should have led, the one he deserved.
    ‘I didn’t mean to punish anyone, Nat,’ Jen said, her voice just starting to waver. ‘That really wasn’t what I intended. It wasn’t rational. I broke down. I’m so sorry that you feel as though I punished you, or Andrew, I’m so sorry…’
    ‘Jesus Christ,’ Lilah snapped. ‘Jen, you don’t have to apologise, not to her, not to anyone. For God’s sake, Natalie. What is wrong with you?’
    Natalie pushed her chair back and got to her feet. She was shaking a little, she thought that she had better leave the room, right away. She wanted to get away from them, she wanted to be outside, in the cold, to hear the wind screaming rather than the voice in her head, her own voice, shrill, hectoring, ugly. She wanted to feel the snow on her skin, cleansing and pure, like an ice bath.
    ‘Honestly!’ Lilah exclaimed. Natalie could hear the scrape of chair legs on stone, the click, hiss of a cigarette lighter. ‘You ought to be ashamed.’
    Natalie stopped, halfway between the dining room table and the back door. For a few moments, she didn’t move a muscle, then slowly, deliberately, she turned to face Lilah.
    ‘I’m sorry?’ she asked, her voice dangerously soft. ‘What did you say?’
    Lilah simply shook her head, didn’t reply.
    ‘I should be ashamed? What should I be ashamed of, Lilah?’ No answer. The rage surged through her, bitter, like bile. That secret she’d been keeping, that power she had, it was time to wield it, and damn the consequences. If she didn’t say something now, she’d carry it forever, and it would stay there, lodged in her chest, heavy as lead, corrosive like acid. ‘It’s funny to me, it really is, to hear you talk about shame,’ Natalie said. ‘You of all people, Lilah.’ Lilah got to her feet, walked around the table and came to stand in front of Natalie, barely two feet away. Her chin was tilted up a little, defiant, but Natalie could see that her hands were shaking.
    Natalie gave Lilah a cold, bloodless smile. ‘She says she doesn’t, but I think Jen blames Andrew for what happened. I think she blames Dan, too. I don’t think she blames you though, does she?’ Lilah couldn’t hold Natalie’s gaze any longer, she looked away. There, she was vulnerable now. If Natalie really wanted to, she could rip her throat out.
    She wanted to. ‘I blame you, though,’ Natalie said. She watched the shadow pass over Lilah’s face, the panic; she looked like a woman drowning, a woman sinking into quicksand. There was an odd silence in the room, as though time had stopped. No one was moving. It was so still that, even from a couple of feet away, she could hear Lilah’s breathing, shallow, raspy, catching. Like a death rattle. ‘I blame you, Lilah, because Andrew wasn’t supposed to be driving the car that afternoon, was he? It was his celebration, remember? So you were the designated driver. Only you couldn’t drive, could you, Lilah, because you’d been sneaking double vodkas into your orange juice and snorting coke in the ladies. Did you know that, Jen? Did she ever tell you about that?’ Jen said nothing, she didn’t move. ‘No, I bet she didn’t. I don’t think she told anyone about it. She certainly didn’t mention it to anyone when Andrew was being sentenced for causing death by careless driving. Not that it would have changed the verdict, I understand that. It might have changed some people’s views on things, though, mightn’t it? At the very least people would know that Andrew didn’t just get behind the wheel after two pints because he was a fucking idiot. He did it because he knew