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“She’s fine. Fighting fit.”

“How much longer is it now? Can’t be much.”

“Anything from two to four weeks, apparently. She’s due on the 20th, but they say first babies could go a week or two over.”

He nodded. “That’s right, I remember now. Vinnie’s having his birthday party tomorrow night, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, at the café. Costume party. Don’t ask why, I have no clue. Jas’s idea, apparently.”

“You still planning on going?”

Not him, too. “It’s his thirtieth. Of course I’m going.”

“Good. No use mooching around the beach like you did last year.”

I started to object, but before I could get a word in, Henry held his hand up.

“You can’t kid a kidder, boy. Emily might be out there somewhere, but Vinnie’s right here. You owe it to him to make an effort, especially after last year. He can’t help when his birthday falls, and that’s never going to change. Best you get used to that, and stop letting your brother down. He wouldn’t let you down – just remember that.”

I stared at Henry across the table. The old man was infuriating, especially when he was right. Suddenly, my appetite seemed to vanish. I picked at my chocolate éclair.

It was true, I’d briefly entertained the idea of not going tomorrow night, or slipping away early, but Vinnie’s little speech this morning had washed all thoughts of that from my mind. After everything Vinnie and Jas had done for me over the past few years, I was ashamed of myself for even thinking it. Henry didn’t need to lay on the guilt.

“You’re not being disloyal to her for picking up and moving on,” Henry said, in his usual matter-of-fact manner. “We all have to do it.”

First Vinnie, then Henry. Either it was a conspiracy or a coincidence, but it felt targeted either way. It felt like, one by one, everyone was giving up on her. I was the last bastion of hope.

Even as the words came out of my mouth, I knew I was going to regret them. Henry was far wiser than I could ever hope to be, yet my knee-jerk reaction was still to defend the concept of hope that I wasn’t even sure I believed in anymore.

“Come on Henry – moving on? Is that what you call going to the police station every Tuesday?”

My heart pounded but Henry wasn’t even rattled. He put down his cup of tea and stared at me over the table, his eyes steely blue, so like Bridget’s.

“Moving on and giving in are two entirely different things. My granddaughter is still out there, somewhere. Cops come and go from that place, but as long as I’m alive, Latimer and the others will keep her picture up on that board and they’ll remember her name. I may not be able to do much for her, but I can do that.”

I felt like I was ten years old again. A stupid kid, one who opened his mouth before he had a chance to think it through. One of Henry’s favourite quotes came back to me.

Better to be thought a fool, than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.

This time next year, I should just lock myself in my house and unplug the phone. I wasn’t fit to be around people. Meeting Em’s double at the café today had only succeeded in making me crazier than usual.

“I’m sorry,” I said, suitably contrite. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” Henry snapped, picking up his cup once again and taking a quick sip. “I’m always right.”

Without breaking into a smile, he winked at me, indicating the half-eaten chocolate éclair on the table in front of me. “You going to eat that? I hate to see good food go to waste.”

Not so fast, old man. I picked up the éclair and took a large bite. Henry shook his head, as if I was a giant pain in the ass. He got up to retrieve the beaten-up aluminium teapot from the kitchen counter, muttering under his breath as I chewed. Pouring himself a refill, he sat down again.

“Bridget has the birthday memorial at the beach again tomorrow morning. You coming to that?” he asked, deftly changing the subject while subtly letting me off the hook at the same time.

I nodded, finishing my mouthful before I spoke. I knew better than to talk with my mouth full in front of Henry. It was one of his pet hates.

“Yep. She told me she switched it to the morning so it wouldn’t interfere with Vinnie’s party, which makes sense, I suppose. I haven’t seen Alex lately, have you? I’m guessing he’ll be there, but she didn’t say.”

“It makes no difference if he’s there or not – you’ve got as much right to be there as he has.”

“I know. But… you know what he’s like.”

It was hard to believe that Alex and I used to be good mates. These days, he treated me like a suspect. If it wasn’t for the fact he was Em’s brother, I would’ve sorted the situation out long ago, but I just felt like doing something about it now would only make things worse. Henry and Bridget had enough to deal with without Alex and I at each other’s throats. Until I could figure out another solution, I’d resigned myself to that fact that I had to just take it on the chin. I tried to stay away from him as much as I could, but Raglan was a small town.

“Don’t let him scare you away. That boy has problems, no two ways about it. But they’re his problems, not yours. He’s going to have to deal with them himself. God knows, we’ve tried to help him but there’s only so much we can do.”

Alex was unpredictable, that was for sure. He had a nasty habit of lighting up at the slightest thing, especially when he’d been drinking, which seemed to be all the damn time lately.

“Bridget wants you there,” Henry said. “I want you there and I’m sure Jasmine and Vinnie want you there. That should be enough.”

“I’ll be there, don’t worry.”

This little ritual that Bridget had orchestrated over the past few years wasn’t really my thing. It seemed to help her though, and that was the only reason I went along with it. Bridget had more right to call the shots than I did. I was just the boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. God, what the hell was I anyway? Was there even a word for it?

My own way of marking Em’s birthday was more private. My grief wasn’t a spectator sport, it was something between me and Em and I wanted it to stay that way.

Maia’s face flashed through my head.

I’d better tell him. I didn’t want his death on my conscience, too.

“Looks like Bridget’s got a new helper at the café,” I said, playing with the lid on my paper coffee cup as I looked across the table at him.

MARLOW WAS NOTHING
if not persistent. He lounged at an almost obscene angle on the bar, grinning at the pretty blonde tourist who was doing her best to get rid of him politely.

“Any minute now,” Vinnie said, taking another sip of his beer as we all watched the drama play out for the third time that night.

Marlow’s eyes slid down to the girl’s cleavage with less subtlety than a sledgehammer to the face.

“For Christ’s sake,” I groaned, hanging my head. “Every
single
time! Has he learnt nothing? I can’t watch, it’s too painful. Tell me when it’s over.”

I took a huge gulp of beer, avoiding the spectacle. Vinnie and Joel continued to watch Marlow with a combination of awe and disgust. I’d known him forever, but the dude had very few boundaries. Apparently, the pretty blonde had picked up on that. Suddenly, she got up, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she grabbed her bag. Marlow grinned up at her from his seat at the bar, clearly missing the signs. His face fell as she walked away, and he glanced over at us wearing a lost expression that set Vinnie and Joel howling with laughter. I felt sorry for him, in a way. He tried really hard, but I think that was the problem. He came across as desperate, and that was definitely not a selling point. Luckily, he bounced back pretty quickly. It was one of the things I admired most about him.

“Frosty bitch,” he said, collapsing back into his chair across from me and picking up his beer. “She doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

“Pretty sure she does, that’s why she left,” Joel chuckled. “Dude, anyone’d think you’d never seen tits before, the way you keep staring at them.”

“What do you mean?”

“Wait –
have
you seen tits before?”

Marlow’s cheeks lit up bright pink, making him look at least ten years younger.

“Not that I don’t love tits as much as the next guy, but look who just walked in,” Vinnie said, nodding in the direction of the bar.

I followed his gaze and my smile dried up, along with my thirst. Alex leaned on the bar, waiting to be served. Fan-bloody-tastic. The very last thing I needed tonight was his bullshit, especially after the day I’d had.

“All hail the Prince of Darkness,” Joel quipped.

“Just ignore him,” I said. “I’m gonna get going anyway.”

“How much longer are you gonna let this shit go on?” Vinnie warned, eyes narrowing. “I keep telling you – you need to stand up to him. He needs to hear it straight. If you won’t do it, I’d be glad to –“

“To what? What can you tell him that I haven’t told him already?”

Vinnie took a sip of his beer, sucking it in through his teeth slowly. “Well, maybe he just needs to hear someone else say it.”

“You?” I said. “Dude, you’re my brother. You’ve been sticking up for me since forever – it’s practically your second job. You seriously think he’s gonna listen to a word you say? You’d be wasting your time.”

“He’s a bloody dick,” Marlow said, leaning back in his chair. “Someone needs to knock some sense into him.”

“Are you offering?” Joel asked. “Because I’d seriously pay to see that.”

“I’m not denying the fact he’s a dick,” I said. “He is. I’m just cutting him some slack, that’s all. He’s had a rough few years.”

“
He’s
had a rough few years?” Vinnie huffed. “And, what, you’ve been skipping through daisies by comparison? You’re letting him treat you like you’ve done something wrong. You haven’t. He needs to get that through his thick head and back the fuck off – that’s all I’m saying.”

For God’s sake. It was like talking to a revolving door. I took a gulp of beer.

“Did you ever stop to consider that by letting him get away with treating you like shit, you’re just playing right into his hands?” Vinnie was on a roll. “He thinks, because you’re letting him do this, you’ve got something to hide. This bullshit – this taking a pop at you every time he’s had a drink, or even a bad day – I mean, Jesus, are his ears painted on? How many times does he have to hear it?”

I shook my head, my patience with this subject wearing thin.

“Y’know, that’s not even what pisses me off the most anymore,” Vinnie said. “The issue for me is why you let him do this to you in the first place. You’ve got nothing to hide. When are you going to stand up for yourself?”

“Oh right,” I said, frustration and anger warring inside of me. Wasn’t my word good enough? “So I should just throw a few punches and that’ll sort it out? How do you think that’ll make Bridget and Henry feel? I’m trying to spare them some heartache.”

“Spare them some heartache? Don’t you think they’d rather see you happy than have this black cloud hanging over your head because that jumped-up little arse-wipe is making your life a living hell?” Vinnie said, indicating Alex with a nod of his head.

Did he really think that Alex was to blame for the hole in my heart, in my soul? “Do we have to keep doing this? ‘Cos I’m over it, to be honest. Can we change the subject please?”

“Fine. Whatever.”

I picked up my beer and drained it. Let Alex blame me for what happened – he was entitled. I wish I could argue with that, but the cold hard truth was that deep down, sometimes I blamed myself, too. I could’ve done something, anything. I should’ve stopped her. I could’ve changed things. I should’ve known. She’d still be here if it wasn’t for me.

“Bridget’s taking in waifs and strays again,” I said, attempting a subject change. “She has a new kitchen-hand, at the café. I stopped in on my way to Henry’s this afternoon, and I met her. She seems nice.”

“Nice? Define nice,” Marlow said, immediately interested.

“I don’t know. She’s nice. She’s… actually, she looks a lot like Em. As in, when I saw her, I think I did the classic cartoon double-take. Which was really smooth.” I felt like an idiot all over again, just thinking about it.

“Really?” Vinnie said, leaning forward, Alex all but forgotten. “What’s her name?”

“Maia something – can’t remember a last name. But y’know how they say everyone’s got a doppelganger?” I said slowly, aware I might come off sounding like a total fruitcake.

“A what?” Marlow stared at me blankly.

“A doppelganger – a double. Someone else in the world that looks exactly like you.”

“Like me?”

“Jesus, Marlow, keep up. Her – Maia. She looks like Em – and not just a passing resemblance, either. Even Bridget commented on it. It’s kinda freaky, actually.”

“Shit, really? That is weird,” Vinnie said, taking a slow sip of his beer.

Joel cringed. “Poor Bridge. Last thing she needs – a reminder.”

“I would’ve thought so, too. But she hired her, I mean, on the spot. Said she thought it was a sign, or something. You know how she is about signs and shit.”

Everyone mumbled their agreement.

“What’s her name again?” Marlow asked.

“No, dude,” Vinnie said quickly. “Just… no. Hands off. Walk away. Find another victim. This is not the droid you’re looking for.”