‘You’re getting divorced?’ Ellie squeaked. For all her mother’s stubbornness and the seemingly endless, cyclical nature of their discord, she never imagined for one moment that her parents’ marriage would end in permanent separation. But her dad had alluded to it, and now her mum. Perhaps this was really going to happen after all. Ellie wasn’t sure what to feel about that. She had known kids at school whose parents had split and they had consequently suffered from all sorts of issues. But Ellie was an adult now – surely a parental divorce shouldn’t really affect her any more. So why did the idea make her feel so utterly bereft?
Miranda didn’t reply. Instead, she pulled a pair of mugs from a high cupboard and set about making tea.
‘Mum!’
When Ellie’s mother turned to face her, she wore the expression of a woman who would rather burn at the stake than give an inch. In fact, Ellie mused vaguely, Joan of Arc probably looked a lot like Miranda Newton did right now as they tied her up. ‘There doesn’t seem to be any point in delaying the inevitable any longer.’
‘The inevitable!’ Ellie almost shouted as Miranda set a mug down in front of her. ‘When was this ever inevitable?’
‘Since your Dad was too stubborn to see what he’d done wrong.’
‘Well, it takes one stubborn old goat to know one,’ Ellie muttered. She dragged her drink across the table and cupped her hands around it, staring into its depths. Right now, she didn’t trust herself to look her mum in the eye.
‘Pie will be another hour or so. Do you have time to stay?’ Miranda joined Ellie at the table with her own drink.
‘How could you do this?’ Ellie asked, not moving her eyes from her mug.
‘We can have chips or just some green beans with it, I don’t mind either.’
Ellie’s head snapped up. ‘Would you just listen to yourself! Argh! You’re so infuriating!’ She let out a sigh. ‘Does Dad know your plans to side-line him permanently?’
Miranda traced a finger down the side of her mug, catching a tea drip. ‘The conversation didn’t exactly get that far.’
‘You put the phone down on him before he’d even said two words, didn’t you?’
‘Three, actually.’
‘It’ll destroy him, you know. He’s hanging on by his fingertips now.’
‘A self-made mess. We were happy and he had to go churning things up.’
‘He thought you’d be as excited as him.’
‘Then he clearly didn’t know me, even after all these years.’
‘Mum…’ Ellie paused, her gaze for a moment drawn to the frosty twilight beyond the window. ‘Is there a chance that this whole stand is on principle, rather than being about what you do or don’t want? You two talked about travelling the world for as far back as I remember.’
‘And we always agreed we didn’t have the money. They were dreams, Ellie, pie in the sky, the sorts of plans that every family discusses and few ever get to make real.’
‘Dad thought he could make them real for you.’
‘At the expense of our security.’
‘Mum… please think about this. Look at Hazel. Imagine what regrets she has now and it’s too late to do anything about them. Sometimes security is good. But if it’s at the expense of having a life, sometimes you have to be prepared to take a risk and step into the void. You never know, you might find you like what’s there.’
‘That’s another thing – how can I leave my sister at a time like this and go swanning off to Australia? Your dad has no siblings and he has no idea what it feels like.’
‘Nobody realised just how ill Hazel was when Dad first made his plans. And I’m sure he’d wait until…’ Ellie’s sentence trailed off. Everyone knew that Hazel’s end was near, but to say it out loud made it too real.
‘And then do you really think I’ll be in the mood to go?’ Miranda snapped. ‘You always did take his side over everything.’
‘I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.’ Ellie took a gulp of her tea and turned her face to the window again. The wind was getting up. Her mind, out of sheer habit, wandered to how the weather conditions would be affecting Ben. But then she remembered that Ben would be indoors now, ensconced on a sofa somewhere with Gemma, and that cruel fist of longing squeezed her heart again. She shut the feeling out.
‘Hazel has spoken to her palliative care nurse and made arrangements to go to the hospice,’ Miranda said, cutting in on her thoughts.
Ellie turned back to her. ‘I thought she’d agreed to stay at home.’
‘So did I. But I saw her earlier in the week and it seems she changed her mind.’
Ellie thought back to when she had last seen her aunt. The question of the hospice had not come up. A needle of guilt stabbed at her. Perhaps it hadn’t come up because Hazel was too busy listening to Ellie’s complaints, instead of Ellie listening to those of a woman whose only choices left now were the location of her death and who to leave her worldly goods to. The sad fact was that Hazel had been right – Ellie and her mum, however noble their intentions – were simply too busy with their own lives to give her the time and care she really needed. The truth stung.
‘Do you want me to go and talk to her, see if I can get her to change her mind?’ Ellie asked half-heartedly. If she knew anything about her aunt, it was that she could be as stubborn as Miranda. Which was very stubborn indeed. She wasn’t sure there was any point trying to talk her round but it felt like the right thing to offer.
‘No…’ Miranda sighed. ‘I don’t suppose you’ll budge her on this.’
Ellie regarded her mother thoughtfully for a moment. ‘She’ll be looked after there, at least. She’ll need twenty-four-hour care soon, and much more specialised than either of us can give,’ she said, trying, but failing, to make herself feel better about the idea.
‘I could have done that,’ Miranda said.
‘Perhaps Hazel wanted to retain the little dignity she had left by not burdening you with that. Perhaps she wanted to be remembered as your big sister, and not a chore that you had to perform out of some misplaced sense of duty.’
‘Misplaced?’
‘Alright then, maybe misplaced was the wrong word. But we’ve been so busy worrying about what’s best for Hazel that we’ve forgotten she has a will of her own. What we think is best is clearly not the same as what she thinks is best. Perhaps we ought to just accept her decision and leave it at that.’
Miranda sighed. ‘They won’t care for her like I would.’
‘Probably not. But it’s Hazel’s choice.’
Miranda was silent as she stared into the distance, seemingly lost in thought. After a few moments, she drained her cup and took it to the sink. ‘You never said if you wanted chips or vegetables.’
Ellie gave her a faint smile. ‘That’s a serious question? When have I ever chosen anything over chips?’
Despite her own misgivings and her mother’s advice to the contrary, Ellie decided to call on her aunt the next day anyway, on her way to cover a Fattest Pig competition at a farm about five miles or so out of the town.
Hazel opened the door with a faint look of surprise. ‘I didn’t expect to see you at this time of the day.’
Ellie nodded and followed her inside. ‘Mum told me about the hospice.’
‘You’re not here to bundle me in a car boot and take me away to keep me in your kitchen cupboard are you?’
Ellie smiled thinly. ‘I wouldn’t dare try. You might be ill but I bet you can still nag me into submission.’
‘Too right I can,’ Hazel laughed. She started towards the kitchen. ‘Can you stay for a cup of tea or do you have to dash off now that we’ve sorted that out?’
Ellie resisted the impulse to look at her watch. ‘Of course I can stay for tea,’ she replied as breezily as she could manage. ‘I can always stay for tea with you.’ She dropped her satchel to the sofa as she passed and hurried towards her aunt. ‘But let me make it. You should be resting.’
‘Oh, I’m sic
k of sitting down all the time. It’ll do me good to potter about a bit in the kitchen. Besides, I have no intention of cleaning it ever again now that I’m not staying here, so who cares if I leave a trail of mouldy teabags along the sink.’
‘Fair enough.’ Ellie watched as Hazel turned slowly back towards the kitchen, grasping the doorframe for a moment’s support as she went. Sometimes, when Ellie looked at her aunt, she couldn’t see the family resemblance at all. But at other times, on days like today, she could see it not in the features or colouring – Hazel, until now, had been heavier than Miranda, with darker eyes and skin – but in the determined set of her jaw and the defiance in her expression. Ellie knew then that Hazel wasn’t going into the hospice because she was giving up; it was quite the opposite. She would go fighting, never becoming a chore that Ellie and Miranda might be reluctant to undertake. Hazel was far too proud for that. While she would fade, at least nobody she loved would find her passing a relief.
‘Your mum will come round to the idea,’ Hazel said, breaking in on Ellie’s thoughts as she flicked the kettle on.
‘I don’t suppose she has a choice.’ Ellie took a seat at the table. She had to check herself as she watched Hazel struggle around the kitchen, desperate to leap up and take over the task but mindful that she shouldn’t.
‘No. But she will anyway. And I actually feel like a huge burden has been lifted from my shoulders now that I’ve made up my mind and set things in motion.’
‘When will you move?’
‘As soon as my nurse has put the paperwork through and got everything sorted. It shouldn’t be too long now.’
‘You want some help sorting out and packing?’
Hazel lowered herself into a chair. ‘I wanted to talk to you about that. There’s not a lot of point in me keeping all this stuff.’
‘What are you going to do with it?’
‘I suppose you and Miranda might want some of it?’ Hazel looked almost hopeful, as if a decline of her offer would be painful.
‘Your furniture, you mean?’ Ellie asked doubtfully.
‘And any other bits – equipment, linens… photo albums… anything really. I’ll only need a few personal belongings. As long as I have my iPad and some spare knickers I’ll be happy.’
‘I’ll ask Mum and get some time off work. We can make a day of it – go through everything, decide what we’re going to do with it all, eat copious amounts of ice-cream and giggle at photos of your ridiculous eighties perm.’
Hazel reached across the table and grasped Ellie’s hand. ‘I’d love that.’
Ellie smiled. ‘Then, consider it a date.’
Eleven
‘Hi Rosie, how’s it going?’ Ellie wiped a stray blob of mayonnaise from the corner of her mouth and swallowed the mouthful of sandwich she had just bitten off as she picked up the office phone. Her expression darkened as she listened to what the Echo’s receptionist had to tell her.
‘Where is she now?’ Ellie asked finally.
‘I’ve put her in one of the smaller conference rooms,’ Rosie replied.
‘I’ll be right down.’ Ellie dropped the receiver into the cradle and let out a huge breath. What did Gemma want now? Hadn’t Ellie written enough stories about her? She turned to Ange, momentarily disconcerted by the fact that her colleague appeared to be Googling Midlands witches covens, but then shook herself. If it came to it, at least Ange might be able to put her in touch with someone who could work a good hex. Right now, knowing who was waiting downstairs for her, that almost sounded like an appealing prospect. ‘Ange, I’ve got to pop down to one of the conference rooms to see someone. I’m expecting Patrick to phone about another Businessman of the Year nominee. If he does will you just get the details of where I have to meet him?’
Ange didn’t take her eyes from the screen but gave a vague wave in her direction. ‘No problem.’
Ellie made her way down to the ground floor, passing the buzzing newsroom and the classified ad department where it appeared some sort of gift presentation was taking place amid cheers and crying. She barely gave it a thought as her mind worked overtime on more immediate and pressing matters.
As she arrived at the glass-walled room, she could see that Gemma was busy on her mobile phone. Ellie pushed the door open and she looked up.
‘One minute,’ Gemma said, holding up a finger. She tapped out what Ellie presumed to be a message to someone before locking the screen and dropping the phone back into her bag. Ellie waited patiently, bristling slightly at Gemma’s rudeness. No one was attached to her mobile more than Ellie, but when someone walked into a room to greet her she would stop whatever she was doing on it and at least greet them in return.
‘Would you like to sit down?’ Ellie said, smoothing her expression. She indicated a table and chairs next to a whiteboard. ‘Rosie could get us coffee if you like.’
‘I don’t need to sit down,’ Gemma said. ‘It won’t take long.’
‘OK. What can I do for you?’
Gemma perched herself on the end of the table and rested her feet on a chair. Ellie tried not to raise her eyebrows. Perhaps Patrick was right after all – this was a very different girl to the Gemma she’d met before.
‘I had an interesting conversation yesterday with someone who lives on Constance Street,’ Gemma began. Then she waited, seemingly for some sort of response from Ellie, who only nodded slowly. She had a horrible feeling she knew exactly where this conversation was going but only hoped she was wrong.
When Ellie offered no reply, Gemma continued.
‘I’ve been told that you’ve spent a lot of time on Constance Street over the past few weeks.’
‘Of course I have. I was covering Ben’s story.’
‘Hmmmm, what about when you visited at night and weekends? What about when you stayed all night?’
‘I have never stayed all night!’
‘But you don’t deny going out of work hours?’
‘I’m a reporter,’ Ellie replied. ‘I don’t have work hours. News breaks, I go, no matter what time of day it is.’
‘Ben on that corner was hardly breaking news, was it?’
‘I don’t see how that’s a decision you could make, to be honest.’
‘It is when it involves my boyfriend!’
‘He wasn’t actually your boyfriend at the time.’ Ellie bit back the rage that she could feel was beginning to cloud her judgement. She took a deep breath. ‘You had left him.’
‘We were always going to get back together, which I seem to remember sharing with you as a matter of confidence.’
‘It did take you rather a long time, though, don’t you think?’
Ellie chewed her lip as she looked at Gemma. They were always going to end up back together. Any woman whose man had put in that much effort would go back eventually. Had Ellie really misread the signs that badly?
‘You were seen,’ Gemma said, breaking in on Ellie’s thoughts. ‘All cosy under that big umbrella, drinking and laughing… You kissed him.’
‘I did not!’
Gemma shook her hair out and stood up. ‘Understand this…’ Her gaze flitted up and down over Ellie. ‘If he did kiss you he was only lonely; it didn’t mean anything.’
Ellie gritted her teeth. ‘He didn’t kiss me. We had a drink and that was all.’
‘I want to believe you, Ellie, and I’m sorry I had to come here and say this. But I wanted to make the situation clear, just in case there was any confusion. He loves me.’
‘It is clear. I know he does, he told me so. In fact, if you recall, he pretty much told the world.’
Gemma nodded. ‘Right.’ She swept past Ellie towards the door of the conference room. And then she turned and smiled sweetly.
‘I hope this is the end of any misunderstanding, Ellie. I like you and you’ve done me such a huge favour by making me see what I was missing without Ben. I would hate to have to make a formal complaint to your editor about you.’
Ellie’s mouth dropped open. Re
plies whirled around her mind but nothing would come out. Without another word, Gemma left, letting the door slam shut behind her.
Ellie sat, her heart now pounding and her shaking legs barely able to support her. Had she just been threatened? Who had told Gemma that she and Ben had been kissing? Ellie had tried to keep her feelings hidden but had they really been that transparent? Could it be that Ellie was not only going to lose a chance of happiness, but her job too, the one she had worked so hard to get? Dragging in a deep breath, she pushed herself upright. Crying was not going to achieve anything and she was damned if she’d cry over anything Gemma Fox had done. Ben was gone now – she had to accept that – but she wasn’t going to lose everything else without a fight.
In the advertising department, it looked as though the presentation was over. People were hugging a heavily pregnant woman. Ellie recognised her as someone she had exchanged a few pleasant words with down in the kitchen from time to time but she couldn’t remember her name and hadn’t even realised she was pregnant until now.
Ellie passed the newsroom next and could see it was still vibrant with activity. It looked as though some international scandal had broken and there was excited laughter as the staff threw around ideas for the best angles to cover it. Ellie saw all this and felt the lump rise in her throat again. The Echo was a small fish – a provincial paper with a tiny circulation but a huge place in the heart of the local community – it wasn’t all high-flying glamour like the TV company Kasumi and Jethro worked for but it was a massively important part of Ellie’s life and she loved it dearly.
Ange looked up as Ellie sat back at her desk. ‘Everything alright?’
Ellie nodded before wrapping up the remnants of her lunch and throwing them into the bin. ‘When is Vernon due back?’
Ange shrugged slightly. ‘Not sure. He said he’d be late though. I expect you could phone and leave a message for him; he’ll call back when he gets a free moment.’
Ellie considered her options. Should she speak to Vernon herself – pre-empt any complaint before it was made? But that might open up a much bigger can of worms that could have been left well alone if Gemma didn’t complain. The answer was simple: she had to stay away from Ben at all costs.
Worth Waiting For: A heart-warming and feel-good romantic comedy Page 16
