Read The Accidental Life of Greg Millar for Free Online

You should enjoy it. That’s it.’
    ‘And Brendan?’
    ‘You know how close I was to Brendan. I miss him, too. And I miss him for you. I miss you being together. But do you think , for one second , he’d want you to be miserable for the rest of your life because of him? Really, do you? Because you know the way he loved you. And he wouldn’t want that. He’d want this – happiness, a future. I know he would. I feel it, Lucy.’
    I want to believe him. So badly.
    ‘When you met Greg, you were in pretty shitty form, weren’t you?’
    I remember back. ‘Yeah.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘You know why. It was Brendan’s birthday.’
    ‘Well, have you ever thought that Greg might have been Brendan’s present to you?’
    I squint at him. ‘Come on.’
    ‘Were you supposed to be at that meeting with Orla?’
    ‘No.’ One of our designers, Jake, had rung in sick.
    ‘And what a coincidence, you and Greg meeting like that – in traffic, on your way to the same place.’
    ‘Life is full of coincidences.’
    ‘Why did you even talk to him in the first place?’
    ‘You know why. He was driving like a maniac.’
    ‘Which upset you because of Brendan. So, really, it was fate, something set in motion in another world.’
    ‘You don’t believe that. You, of all people.’ The world’s greatest cynic.
    ‘So, how did I think of it, then?’

    I can’t work. I leave the office and walk. Before long, I find myself lighting candle after candle in the Pepper Canister church. I try to talk to Brendan, but find I’m talking to myself. Not even the tiniest flicker of a candle flame in response. Nothing. I leave the church, and walk back to my car. Half an hour later, I pull up outside my sister’s house. If I’m not going to hear a spiritual voice, at least I’ll get a sensible one.

6.
    I don’t make a habit of asking Grace’s advice. It’s not easy to listen to someone who never makes mistakes. But now I’ve asked and am waiting for an answer, watching her carefully from the other side of the ironing board. She is ironing and beautiful. Like an ad for it: You, too, could look like this, if you had an iron. Hard to believe we’re from the same gene pool. Why have I come? Do I real ly need the Voice of Reason?
    ‘They’re not easy, you know, children,’ says an amazing mum. Grace gave up her career as a doctor to stay at home with her kids.
    ‘But Shane and Jason are adorable,’ I say.
    ‘Not twenty-four hours a day, they’re not. What we’re having here is a rare moment of peace.’ Jason’s asleep and Shane’s at Montessori .
    ‘I know it’s hard, but they’re young. They get easier. Don’t they?’
    ‘They’d better,’ she laughs, lifting the iron. Jets of steam shoot out and up into her honey-blonde hair. It won’t frizz. ‘Look, Luce, you’re my little sis, so I’m going to be straight – as long as you don’t tell Mum . . .’
    I look at her as if she’s just insulted me; I never tell Mum anything I don’t think she’ll find out.
    ‘Parenting is the hardest, most thankless thing I’ve ever done. I’m not complaining; it was our decision. They’re our kids and we love them. But his wouldn’t be yours. You’d get all the has sle – probably more – but none of the good things that come with a child being a tiny piece of you. Have you thought that they mightn’t accept you?’
    ‘Maybe not at first. But in time . . .’
    ‘They might drive you apart. It happened to Colette.’ Her best friend, who fell in love with a divorced father of two.
    ‘She had to put up with manipulative teenagers; that’s different .’
    ‘All children manipulate their parents. They develop it into an art form. Trust me, even babies manipulate their parents.’
    Jason’s up a lot during the night. Grace is tired; that’s all this is.
    ‘What about discipline?’ she continues, lifting the iron and drawing her head back to avoid the steam. ‘If you got married, who’d discipline them? Have you