What Goes Around: A chilling psychological thriller by Julie Corbin Page B

and Ben. And a granddaughter called Molly.’ I pour our tea and push both pieces of cake towards David. ‘I’ll just have the small end of the fruit cake.’ I scoop some into my mouth and watch as he takes a forkful of Victoria sponge.
    ‘I’ve never kept a relationship going beyond three months,’ he says.
    ‘Why do you think that is?’
    ‘I don’t know.’ He sighs. ‘Maybe because I’m unlovable.’
    ‘Nobody’s unlovable, David. But sometimes we might push people away. We don’t mean to but we do.’
    ‘Do you?’
    ‘I don’t think so, but then I was in therapy for years as part of my training and I still see my therapist once a month. I never forget that I’m a work in progress. We all are.’
    We lapse into silence for a minute. I sip my tea and David eats more cake.
    ‘Our childhood wasn’t easy,’ he says.
    ‘You’re right.’
    ‘Have you let go of it?’
    ‘Mostly.’
    ‘Leila.’ He leans forward. His expression is animated. ‘I want to confront Gareth.’
    I nod. ‘I understand that. But remember we agreed to put Gareth behind us.’
    ‘An unspoken agreement maybe but—’
    ‘It wasn’t unspoken,’ I counter. ‘I distinctly remember us discussing it.’
    That makes him hesitate. He finishes the cake and then says, ‘Who does Alex think his dad is?’
    He already knows the answer to this but I tell him again. ‘I told Alex his father was a man I loved but had lost touch with. That was when he was about ten. He hasn’t asked me since then.’
    ‘Do you think it was good to lie?’
    ‘Of course it wasn’t good to lie! But he was ten years old. Do you think I should have told him the truth?’
    ‘I could have helped you break it to him.’
    ‘I would never have agreed to that! Truth can destroy people.’
    ‘If I had known …’ He shakes his head and pushes the plate away. ‘I just … I’ve wasted years! Years and fucking years. Gareth’s cruel, crazy shit … and it’s like I’m just waking up. I’ve let stuff hold me back and— Fuck, Leila!’
    ‘David, I understand. I do.’ His eyes are full of tears. He’s my little brother and I want to comfort him. ‘When you begin therapy, you experience an opening-up and it feels both good and bad, especially if you’ve felt trapped or stuck for some time. You want to instantly act upon it, take a short cut, jump forward to where you want to be.’ I look around the room for inspiration and find it in a poster about world ecosystems. ‘It’s like you’ve glimpsed a new way of being, but as yet the picture is incomplete. Just imagine that there’s an elephant behind a curtain and you’re only allowed to view a small section of the elephant and what you see is its trunk and nothing else. You won’t have a sense of the whole beast. You haven’t seen the tiny tail or the huge ears. So if you were to act on that understanding you would be limited. Do you see what I mean?’
    ‘You’re saying I should wait until I see the whole elephant?’
    ‘Yes. Exactly. You need to be patient. You will have realisations and you’ll want to act upon them at once, but you mustn’t.’
    A muscle twitches on the right side of his face, pulling at the corner of his mouth. I gently touch his cheek and he leans into my hand to rest his face in the cup of my palm. We sit like this for a moment and then our attention is caught by a group of young children jostling for seats at the table next to us. ‘I’m so sorry!’ a young mother says as her son elbows me in his rush to sit down. ‘He’s overexcited.’
    ‘No problem. We were just leaving.’ I stand up. ‘We’ll give you some more space.’
    David and I hug and agree to meet again soon, and this time I watch him as he walks away. Three times he turns round and we both wave. He is reluctant to leave me and part of me is reluctant to let him go. My maternal instinct was activated at such a young age and I feel the pull of that now. I want to run after him, invite him home,