The Day I Lost You: A heartfelt, emotion-packed, twist-filled read. Fionnuala Kearney
Jess
There are always before and after moments. Profound instants when, one second, life is a clear, high-pixel image and the next, it’s grainy, less focused.
The day it happened, the seventh of December 2014, had been a normal day – nothing unusual about it. A band of low Arctic pressure produced the sort of cold that froze my fingers through gloves and numbed my toes through sheepskin-lined boots. The winter sky – a perfect, crisp blue – was marred only by wispy white plane trails latticing through it.
Theo and I were on the Irish coffee stall at the Christmas fair all afternoon – the most dreadful baristas, unable to produce a straight line of cream along the top of the coffee and a little too liberal with the alcohol. It was the season of goodwill. Fairy lights flashed: home-made crackers with loo-roll centres were snapped; high-pitched carols were sung; crumbling, puff-pastry mince pies were trodden into the polished parquet floor of the school hall, and the heady scent of festive cinnamon and cloves filled the air.
I remember it being a fun-filled afternoon.
When I got home, I flicked the kettle on and turned the thermostat up. I sat a while, my hands wrapped around a cup of black tea, staring into the garden in the fading light, my feet tucked up underneath me. Much as I loved her, days without Rose were precious. I had so little time to myself that merely sitting, being, just the act of doing nothing was a joy. Right up until the moment the doorbell rang, it’s the ‘ordinary-ness’ of that day that I recall.
When the door pinged, I still didn’t stir – not until I heard Doug’s voice through the letterbox. Then I leapt from my seat.
‘Jess. It’s Doug. Can you open the door?’
I made my way to the hall, heard him moving about in the porch; foot to foot. Doug has not come to my door for a very long time.
From my jacket pocket, my mobile phone trilled. Seeing his number, I realized he would have heard it ring too.
‘Open the door, Jess. It’s important.’
I answered the phone and hung up immediately.
‘What do you want?’ I spoke through the four solid panels.
‘I need to speak to you. Please.’ His voice seemed to break on the last word and I opened the latch.
Doug, my ex-husband, the man whom I apparently ‘strangled with my love’ was standing there, shivering.
‘Can I come in?’
I looked over his shoulder, expecting to see Carol, his wife, there.
‘What do you want,