The Last Piece of My Heart

by Paige Toon

  Sara calls me afterwards.

  ‘You are very good at this,’ she says. ‘Very amusing. And you came across really well when you were discussing Beau, too. The presenter loved it.’

  This comment makes me feel a bit icky.

  ‘I’ll keep an ear to the ground for any more opportunities, but well done,’ she says.

  ‘Thank you,’ I reply. I’m glad of her praise, but I’m not falling over myself to repeat the experience.

  ‘Who’s next on your list?’ she asks. ‘Seth should be interesting.’

  ‘Er, yeah, Seth would mean going to Canada, so I think he’ll have to wait. I’ve got too much on at the moment with Nicole’s book.’

  ‘Is anyone here in London?’

  ‘Vince and Liam are,’ I tell her reluctantly.

  ‘Are you catching up with either of them while you’re here?’

  ‘I don’t have the time.’

  ‘Oh.’ She sounds put out. ‘Well, don’t leave it too long before you post again. You need to keep the momentum going after Beau.’

  ‘Mmm,’ I reply noncommittally. Vince or Liam? Neither, thank you.

  I looked Vince up online when Elliot first suggested I approach Sara with the book idea. He’s still a landscape gardener in north London, but with his own business now. There was nothing on his website about his personal life, but hopefully he’s happily married and will welcome the opportunity to put the past to rest.

  Or there’s the other possibility that he’ll fly off the handle when I tell him that I’m writing a book about all of my ex-boyfriends and he has a starring role.

  Guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

  I’m as keen on crossing that bridge as Billy Goat Gruff.

  I don’t feel a whole lot more enthusiastic about meeting up with Liam again. As I’ve said, he’s married with two small children, and the thought of his pitying face makes me shudder. I left you because you can’t have children – but I can! Sorry about that. . .

  I try to push them both out of my mind.

  ‘I have some more good news for you,’ Sara continues. ‘I spoke to Fay earlier, and she loves your synopsis. The baby theme is inspired!’

  ‘Really?’ This cheers me up immensely.

  ‘Seriously, Bridget, I am super-proud of you,’ she continues as I beam from ear to ear. ‘Now all you need to do is write it!’

  I feel a flurry of nerves. I have until the end of January to deliver, which is only five months away. Luckily, Nicki had already written a quarter of the book.

  I’m itching to return to Cornwall so I can crack on, but unfortunately my train doesn’t leave until the morning.

  That afternoon I hang out with Dad at the pub, and at dinnertime he joins me at a table. I love gastro pubs – don’t get me wrong – but I hope the good old-fashioned British public house menu never dies out completely. There should always be a place for frozen scampi and deep-fried onion rings in our lives.

  Elliot FaceTimes me at nine o’clock.

  ‘I’m still at the pub,’ I say, turning my screen around to show him the slot machines, followed by my dad behind the bar. ‘Look, there’s the old man, serving a customer.’

  He says something that I can’t hear so I turn the phone back around and ask him to repeat it. I have to partly lipread because it’s so loud in here. He wants to know when I’m going back to Dad’s.

  ‘Not sure,’ I reply. ‘Have you just got out of the shower?’ His bare chest is coming into shot at the bottom of the screen.

  ‘Yeah. You know I’ve got to leave for work soon, right?’

  He’s not at all happy with me, I realise. I sigh dejectedly and get up, going through to the corridor where the toilets are. It should be quieter back here.

  ‘I was waiting for Dad to give me a lift home,’ I tell Elliot apologetically when the bar noise has been muffled.

  ‘Couldn’t you have walked?’ he asks.

  ‘Do you want me wandering the streets alone at this hour?’

  He’s taken aback by my spiky tone. I’ve never complained before.

  ‘Are we okay?’ he asks after a long, tense moment.

  ‘Yes.’ I shake my head, ruffled. ‘Sorry, it’s just been a bit of a full-on day, that’s all. I’m a bit stressed.’

  ‘Why are you rushing back to Cornwall?’ he asks.

  ‘I’ve got so much to do. . .’

  ‘How can Charlie have a problem with you having a few days off? It’s a bit rich, considering he made you go all the way there to work.’

  ‘He’s not giving me grief about it,’ I tell him. ‘I want to go back. It’s his daughter’s birthday party on Sunday. I don’t want to miss it,’ I admit.

  At the look on his face, I quickly backtrack, coming to my senses. I’m being a terrible girlfriend. ‘What time are you leaving for work?’

  ‘Half an hour.’

  ‘If I walk quickly, I’ll be back in fifteen,’ I say determinedly.

  ‘Forget it,’ he snaps.

  ‘El. . .’

  ‘Seriously, forget it. I’ve got to get ready. Speak at the weekend, maybe.’

  ‘Okay. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  His eyes are a lighter, clearer blue than Vince’s, but at that precise moment they look just like each other.

  That’s the last thought I have before he hangs up.

  Chapter 33

  The closer I get to Cornwall, the happier I feel. Charlie offered to come to Bodmin to collect me, but I know he has Nicki’s family arriving today, so he’ll have enough on his plate.

  I step off the bus at Padstow and take a deep breath of the sea-salty, deep-fried-fish-and-chippy air scented with the tang of vinegar and smile.

  I go straight to Charlie’s.

  Nerves bounce around inside me as I approach the front door. Are they here yet? On impulse, I ring the doorbell.

  I hear footsteps and then the door swings open and Charlie is standing there.

  ‘Hello!’

  He looks heartwarmingly pleased to see me, and I know that I mirror him.

  ‘Why didn’t you use your key?’ he asks, stepping aside.

  Oi, where’s my hug?

  ‘I wasn’t sure if Nicki’s family would be here,’ I admit.

  At that precise moment, a short, stumpy, middle-aged woman emerges from the living room. ‘Hel—lo!’

  ‘Hi!’ I exclaim, feeling instantly on edge at the barbed intonation of her greeting. ‘I’m Bridget.’

  ‘This is Valerie,’ Charlie says, backing closer to the stairs to make room for his mother-in-law. Is she still his mother-in-law?

  She has small, round eyes set within a smooth, unlined face, which is framed by lacklustre, medium-length, dark-brown hair. When she shakes my hand, her fingers are cool.

  Her expression is cooler.

  ‘When did you arrive?’ I ask in as friendly a manner as I’m capable of.

  ‘About half an hour ago.’

  I wonder if she’s lost the ability to smile, and then I remember that her younger daughter died last year and feel a prickle of guilt.

  ‘Are Kate and her family not here yet?’ The house seems very quiet.

  ‘Ian and the boys are checking into their hotel,’ Valerie replies. Ian is Kate’s husband. They have two boys aged five and seven, if I remember correctly. ‘Kate took April with her to get some milk,’ Valerie adds.

  ‘Oh, had we—’ I glance at Charlie and correct myself: ‘Had you run out?’

  ‘Yeah. Have you come straight from the bus stop?’

  ‘Yes.’ I nod and give him a wavering smile. I can feel Valerie’s eyes studying me intently.

  ‘Cuppa?’ he asks.

  ‘We don’t have any milk, remember?’ Valerie chips in tartly. ‘Unless she takes it without.’

  Who’s ‘she’, the cat’s mother?

  ‘Oh, I’m fine,’ I say, glancing between them awkwardly, my gaze eventually resting on Charlie. I nod up the stairs. ‘I should probably
crack straight on.’

  ‘Okay.’ He nods and smiles at me.

  ‘Did I hear that right? Does she have a key?’ I catch Valerie asking impertinently as I push open my office door.

  I really missed April, but I’m nervous about meeting Kate, so, when I hear her return, I don’t rush downstairs. I’m not playing my music today (as if I could relax enough to do that) and my chest actually aches to hear April’s merry little chatter. I can barely stand it, and, before I know it, I’m on my feet and over by the office door. I listen with an odd yearning sensation in my gut as Kate takes April down the corridor to the kitchen. Her husband and sons must still be at the hotel.

  I force myself to sit back down. I hope Kate will be more receptive to meeting me than her mother. Charlie told me that she was the one who persuaded him to say yes to a sequel, so surely she’ll be pleasant, won’t she? She’s always nice to Charlie – I’ve overheard so many of her conversations with him.

  I take a deep breath and slowly exhale, trying to calm my nerves. I’ll just give them some time to settle in. They’re probably having their belated cup of tea. I wonder if Charlie will make me one. When there’s a knock at my door, that’s the first thing I think of.

  ‘Hey!’ I call, swivelling in my chair.

  The door opens and a woman enters. She has dark hair like the other female members of the Dupré family, but hers is streaked with lighter, orangey highlights. Her lipstick is pale pink, but thickly applied.

  ‘Hi!’ I say brightly.

  ‘Hello,’ she replies.

  This is not the face of a friend. It looks like the face of an adversary.

  ‘I’m Bridget,’ I say, trying to stay upbeat.

  ‘I gather that,’ she replies stonily. ‘I’m Kate, Nicole’s sister.’

  She puts emphasis on the last two words of her introduction.

  She looks a lot older than Nicki was when she died, and slightly haggard, as if she’s had way too many late nights and early mornings. Only three years separated them, four now, but it could’ve been ten. Maybe grief has aged her, but it doesn’t seem to have had a similar effect on her mother.

  ‘I thought I’d better come to say hello,’ she says sourly.

  ‘It’s very nice to meet you,’ I force myself to reply.

  She looks around the room, at my desk, up at the bookshelves, back to my computer. Pain flickers across her features and I soften towards her, despite her frosty reception.

  ‘I was thinking about coming downstairs for a cuppa,’ I say gently, saving my work. Earlier on the train, I read through the beginning of Confessions again so it was fresh in my mind. I’ve just started writing a Tintagel-set Morris-and-Kit scene.

  ‘I’d like to speak to you about my sister’s book, actually.’ She sounds terse. ‘Charlie doesn’t seem to know anything about it.’

  ‘He doesn’t ask me much,’ I admit. ‘But I’m in regular contact with Fay and Sara, Nicki’s editor and agent.’

  ‘Nicole,’ she says.

  Is she seriously correcting me?

  She continues. ‘Charlie probably finds it hard to talk about. But he can’t not pay attention. This is so important. I really couldn’t believe he had no idea what you’ve been doing up here.’

  ‘That’s not tr—’ I start to say, but she talks over me.

  ‘I’ll be involved from now on. My sister would’ve wanted that.’

  I’m dumbfounded.

  ‘Is that it?’ she nods at my computer, the Word document open on the screen.

  ‘Yes,’ I reply. I have no idea how to deal with this. Obviously Kate is still devastated by her sister’s death, and I really don’t want to upset or insult her, but she has no business coming in here like this and making demands. I’m being paid by Nicki’s publisher – they have agreed on the synopsis I’ve sent them – and I’m more than happy to answer to Charlie. But I won’t bow down to Kate.

  I need to tread carefully, though. This might be one for Sara or Fay to handle.

  Or Charlie.

  ‘I’ve only just started writing, and I wouldn’t feel comfortable giving it to anyone to rea—’

  ‘How have you only just started writing?’ she interrupts with astonishment. ‘You’ve been here for weeks!’

  ‘I’ve been researching,’ I tell her evenly, standing up. ‘I’m going to make myself a cup of tea. Perhaps we can talk about it downstairs.’

  When Charlie’s in earshot, I think to myself.

  She moves aside grudgingly and follows me down the stairs. My heart is going ten to the dozen.

  ‘There she is,’ Charlie says as I walk into the kitchen, trying to mask my unease. ‘Valerie, watch this.’ He places April on her feet in front of him.

  ‘Hello!’ I say to April, my mood immediately improving at the sight of her. I tense as Kate comes to a stop beside me and folds her arms.

  ‘Go to Bridget,’ Charlie says, giving April a gentle nudge.

  April beams straight at me as she toddles towards me with her arms stretched out.

  One, two, three, four, five, six steps!

  ‘Clever girl!’ I cry with delight, catching her and lifting her up into my arms. ‘That’s the most she’s done, isn’t it?’ I ask Charlie.

  ‘Yeah!’ he exclaims, coming over to join us. He glances over his shoulder at Valerie, who’s sitting on the sofa in the kitchen extension, taking all of this in with an expression I can’t decipher, but it’s sure as hell not happiness.

  I daren’t look at Kate.

  Charlie returns his gaze to me, and I feel a pang when I realise that he’s lost some of his enthusiasm.

  My intestines tie themselves into knots. It’s not fair that they’re making me – or him – feel like this. I’m incredibly sorry for their loss. But I’m just doing my job. I’m certainly not trying to replace their daughter.

  The idea is almost laughable.

  ‘I was saying to Bridget that I’d like to read what she’s written,’ Kate says casually, coming to take April from me. I feel bereft when she’s no longer in my arms.

  ‘Sure,’ Charlie replies, nonplussed.

  I glance at him sharply.

  ‘If that’s cool with you,’ he adds quickly, noticing the change in my demeanour.

  Kate, beside him, looks smug.

  ‘I’d like to read it, too,’ Valerie interjects importantly from her still-seated position.

  ‘You can all read it, once it’s finished,’ I say with forced cheer, trying not to look as hurt as I feel. ‘I’ll have a fair bit of editing to do first, though.’

  I grab a glass of juice from the fridge because the kettle takes too long to boil, and make myself scarce.

  Kate’s husband and sons arrive soon afterwards, and the noise that travels up the stairs is unbelievable. I hate wearing headphones, but I put them on anyway, counting down the minutes until five o’clock, when I’ll be able to leave without anyone commenting on my work ethic.

  Charlie sees me to the door. He seems downcast.

  ‘I’m sorry, was that the wrong thing to say?’ he whispers when I’ve crossed over the threshold and he’s closed the door against his body to protect us from view.

  I shrug at him. ‘Bit awkward,’ I whisper back, still feeling wounded.

  ‘I’ll sort it out,’ he promises.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll see you Sunday?’

  ‘You’re not coming back tomorrow?’ he asks with a frown.

  ‘I’ll work from Hermie,’ I state.

  Am I fuck, coming back tomorrow!

  ‘Don’t leave me with them,’ he pleads in a tiny voice.

  His expression raises a smile. ‘Bye,’ I call over my shoulder as I set off down the footpath. I don’t hear the clunk of the door shutting for several seconds afterwards.

  I’m dreading being back in Kate’s and Valerie’s company on Sunday, but there’s no way I’m missing April’s birthday. The party starts at midday, and I feel a huge wave of relief when Julia tells me that she and Justin have
sorted cover so they can come, too. The three of us walk there together – safety in numbers – and their jolly chatter helps take my mind off things.

  Adam answers the door to us, further improving my mood.

  ‘Hey!’ he says, giving me a hug and turning to shake Justin’s hand and kiss Julia. They already know each other well, judging by the warmth of their greetings.

  ‘Oh, hello!’ Charlie’s mother Pat gushes, coming into the hall. She also does a round of hugs.

  If only Nicki’s family were this welcoming, I think with a sting.

  ‘What can I get you to drink?’ Pat asks us. ‘Can I tempt you with bubbles?’

  ‘Ooh, lovely. Yes, please.’ I’m the first to reply.

  The living room is already bustling with people, old and young. I spy Jocelyn and wave. I’ll make a beeline for her in a minute, but first I need to see the birthday girl – and Charlie. I find them together, chatting to a middle-aged couple who move away as we approach.

  ‘Hey!’ Charlie greets me with a smile. April turns her head to gaze at me blankly.

  ‘Hello,’ I say sweetly, brushing her cheek. Her face belatedly breaks into a chipmunk grin and she reaches her hand out to touch my mouth. I step closer so she can.

  ‘Happy birthday,’ I tell her gently as she flops adoringly against the base of Charlie’s neck, her cheek all squashed up against him as she smiles at me. I pass Charlie her present. ‘You already know what that is,’ I say.

  He lifts up the present and shakes it near his ear, his eyes turning expectantly towards the package. Sure enough, the tambourine inside tinkles cheerfully.

  ‘She’ll love it, thank you,’ he says sincerely.

  ‘There are a few other bits and pieces in there as well. Did she like the mobile?’

  He shrugs. ‘Hard to tell.’

  ‘Have you hung it up already?’

  ‘Yeah. Go and have a look if you like.’

  ‘Tomorrow.’ I tense as, out of the corner of my eye, I see Valerie approaching.

  ‘Here you go, Bridget,’ Pat says, materialising with a glass of sparkling wine. ‘Cheers.’ She chinks my glass. ‘Oh, come and meet Barry.’