by Karen Clarke
‘He was getting his own back for you singing to him last time, but I’m sure he’ll make it up to you next time,’ she’d chuckled, before heading to bed with a book called The Dragonslayer’s Nephew, and it was so nice to see her with something besides food or a tear-drenched tissue in her hand, I didn’t bother to mention there wouldn’t be a next time.
‘I’m the one who’s sorry, for putting you through it,’ I said to Toby.
‘To be honest, I can’t remember that much.’ He winced. ‘I’d barely eaten all day, and the champagne went straight to my head.’
‘I didn’t notice,’ I deadpanned.
‘She’s not a nice woman, is she?’ he said, even though Megan had been relatively pleasant to him. ‘Shame she’s pregnant, because I reckon he’s not that into her.’
I thought of the look on Tom’s face when he saw the scan photo, and my stomach contracted. ‘Babies can bring people together, so I’m sure they’ll work it out.’ I flinched. ‘Toby, I’m sorry. I keep forgetting why your marriage broke up.’
‘It’s fine.’ He gave a sad little smile that tugged at my heartstrings. ‘I think I’m going to try and give things another go with Em.’
‘I’m glad,’ I said, meaning it.
He smiled properly. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever find anyone I like as much as her – no offence – and even if we can’t have kids I want to be with her.’
‘Well, I hope she feels the same,’ I said. ‘Good luck.’
‘Same to you.’ He stooped to kiss my cheek. ‘I’m glad you get the picture.’ He paused. ‘A little art joke.’
‘Ah. Good one.’
He gently flicked my hair before walking away, and was soon swallowed up by a coach-load of tourists embarking by the square.
I turned, half expecting to see Doris avidly watching and taking notes, but saw a small queue of customers instead.
‘Oh god, I’m sorry,’ I said, and managed to sell a good quantity of everything, including the lilies to the lady having a dinner party. It seemed half of Shipley were buying flowers for relatives’ birthdays, or plants to put in their hanging baskets, and, in one case, six yellow roses to say sorry for ‘being a bastard’ to a well-meaning neighbour.
By mid-afternoon, the beach was packed with bodies baking in the sun, and splashing in and out of the sea, while the square was almost empty.
I’d almost stopped expecting to hear from Megan, when a glance at the work phone revealed a voice message that turned out to be from her.
‘Hey, Carrie, if you’re there, just wanted to say no hard feelings about last night.’ Her voice was husky, as if she’d just climbed out of bed. ‘Call back when you can, I need to talk flower arrangements.’
Heart thumping I called right back, refusing to dwell on the thought of her and Tom cosied up together, discussing my outburst the night before, and Tom reaching the conclusion that it was probably safer to stay with the devil he knew.
She picked up right away, as if she’d been waiting for my call.
‘It’s Carrie,’ I said, aiming to keep my voice on an even keel. ‘What is it you wanted to know?’
‘What the hell you thought you were playing at last night?’
I should have known. ‘I’m sorry,’ I began stiffly, but she interrupted with a whoop of laughter.
‘Just kidding, it’s fine,’ she said. ‘In fact, Tom and I talked for ages when we got back and are closer than ever.’ I heard the tinkle of a spoon on a china cup. ‘I was just saying to my girl-crew,’ there were hollers in the background, ‘he’s finally coming around to the idea of leaving his practice in the hands of a manager, so he can be around more when the baby’s born.’
‘But why should he give up doing something he loves?’ I couldn’t help the words shooting out, and could have kicked myself for giving her more ammunition.
‘Maybe he loves me more than his job, Carrie, imagine that.’ Her voice was rich with satisfaction, and an image of a beautiful, silky cat toying with a mouse sprang up. ‘Being the mother of his child has made him appreciate me in a whole new light.’
Someone in the background said something I couldn’t catch. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘I wanted to check where your aunt is getting my flowers from, for the wedding.’ It was as if she couldn’t stop saying the word ‘wedding’. Or maybe that was all I could hear.
‘Why do you need to know?’ There was a disbelieving rumble of voices. ‘Have you got me on speaker-phone?’
‘Just proving to the girls what I’m up against,’ she said, and for a second she dropped the pretence of being nice. ‘They can’t believe I ever used to hang out with someone like you.’
They’re not the only ones, I didn’t say. I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’d got to me – though she probably knew. ‘She’s using All Seasons, her regular supplier,’ I said, as calmly as my thrashing pulse would allow. ‘And a couple of locals who specialise in hand-raised flowers.’
‘Hand-raised,’ tittered one of her cronies.
‘Shouldn’t it be home-grown?’
‘Holy crap, they’ll be covered in soil, Meg. Are you sure you don’t want me to call my florist?’
‘You’d better make sure they’re real, and there won’t be any fake flower piglets, and tell her—’
The last voice was cut off, and Megan’s dulcet tones poured into my ear. ‘All Seasons sounds good,’ she said. ‘So, I guess I’ll see you on Friday.’
I thought she added ‘or not’, just as the line went dead. Maybe she was planning to stay out of my way from now on. I sincerely hoped so.
My head was pounding, and I desperately needed a drink. I was debating nipping to the newsagent’s for a bottle of water, when someone tapped me on the shoulder.
‘Carrie?’
I swung round, and for a moment was blinded by the sun, and couldn’t see who the female voice belonged to. Then my vision cleared, and I found myself staring at a pair of sapphire-blue eyes. My heart gave a leap of shock. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘You said you’d be at the flower stall,’ said Kate Robson, thumbs hooked through the straps of her quilted rucksack. ‘I want to meet my grandmother.’
Chapter Thirty-Two
In shock, I glanced behind Kate in case Peter was hovering out of sight. ‘Are you with your dad?’
She shook her head, her sideways fringe fluttering in a light breeze. ‘My parents don’t know I’m here,’ she said.
A flicker of hope, that something good was about to come out of the last few days, fizzled out. ‘You shouldn’t be here alone.’
She shrugged off her rucksack and dropped it at her feet. ‘Dad wouldn’t have let me come if I’d told him.’
‘Where does he think you are?’ The last thing I needed was a missing teenager on my hands, especially one belonging to a man who had every reason to hate me.
‘I said I was going to the beach with my friends.’ She was dressed in floral shorts, and under her loose-fitting top I could see what looked like the top half of a turquoise swimming costume.
‘Aren’t you a bit young to be out on your own?’ I said, which was rich considering Sarah and I had spent most of our summer holidays out of sight of our parents – though the furthest I’d tended to stray was the grassy hollow at the bottom of our garden, with a book.
‘I’m nearly fifteen.’ She said it kindly. ‘I am allowed out without my parents if I promise to answer my phone when they call.’
‘How did you get here?’ I fretted, already feeling responsible for her well-being.
‘I got the bus,’ she said, as if it was obvious. ‘It took, like, two hours because it went through all these villages, and this old lady couldn’t get her walking frame on, so the driver threatened to drive off and everyone got angry and we said we’d call the police if he did.’ She was animated, as if she’d been on an adventure, and reinforced the image by plucking a complicated-looking water bottle out of her bag, as if on an expedition.
‘So, this is my grandmother’s stall?’ she said, after taking several gulps with her head thrown back. She looked around her as if noticing the flowers for the first time. ‘It’s nice.’
Hearing her say ‘grandmother’ was strange, yet that’s exactly what Ruby was.
‘You look a lot like her.’ The words flew out without permission. ‘When she was younger, I mean. And, yes, this is her stall.’
‘Cool,’ she said. ‘And you’re my first cousin once removed.’ Her gaze swept over the shorts, stripy top, and espadrilles I’d bought from Sassy Lassie, but I was conscious of looking as sweaty as I had when I turned up on her doorstep. Hardly the image of a responsible woman. ‘I looked it up.’ She gave an impish grin. ‘It’s really exciting, don’t you think?’
Her enthusiasm was infectious, but I punched my hands onto my hips and tried to look stern. ‘You really should call your parents, and tell them where you are.’
She shrugged, fiddling with the catch on her water bottle. ‘Look, I heard what you said through the letterbox, and I read the letter you left my dad—’
‘You shouldn’t have done that.’ I wouldn’t have dared, if it had been me, but then I couldn’t imagine something like that ever happening in our household. The only thrilling mail Sarah and I ever had, were cards with money in on our birthdays, from Auntie Barbara in Wales.
‘I know, but I got to it first and after I’d read it I gave it to Dad, and told him to man up and see what she had to say.’
I tried to get my head around this image. ‘And did he?’
She nodded. ‘Mum said there are two sides to every story, and he should get over himself and stop acting like a brat, because that’s not how he’d been brought up.’
‘Wow,’ was all I could think to say. ‘That’s harsh.’
‘She thinks deep down he wants to meet her, but he feels really guilty about betraying Nanna. That was his adoptive mum.’ Kate moved to the workbench and riffled through the tray of ribbon spools. ‘She was a nice lady,’ she said, pulling out a leaf-green length of satin and wrapping it around her wrist. ‘But I expect Ruby’s nice too.’
‘She is.’ I felt a bit choked. How had someone so young got to be so sensible? ‘So, you already knew about her?’
‘We talk about everything,’ Kate said matter-of-factly. ‘My mum says keeping secrets can make you sick, so it’s best to share them and then they’re not secrets any more.’
‘Your mum sounds brilliant.’ I thought of Ruby going into a decline every year, isolated by guilt and sorrow. ‘She should be a psychologist.’
‘She is.’ Kate picked up a spray of purple freesias and ran them under her nose. ‘Do you think my grandmother would let me work here at weekends?’
Her hopeful gaze was suddenly childlike, and I remembered she was only fourteen. At that age, my main concern had been getting good grades at school. ‘Kate, don’t you think your dad should meet her first?’
‘Why?’ She replaced the freesias and dusted her hands together. ‘I can see what she’s like and report back. Tell him how nice she is.’
‘I don’t think he’d like that.’
‘I can go on my own, if you’re busy.’ She reached for her bag, her fringe falling over her face. ‘I’ve got the address, and I know it’s not far from here. Google maps.’
‘No,’ I said sharply. ‘You can’t just barge in, it’ll be too much for her.’
‘But I know she’ll want to meet me.’
‘Of course she will, but not without warning.’
‘I don’t see why,’ she said reasonably. ‘It’s good to be spontaneous.’ Maybe having a psychologist parent wasn’t a good thing, after all.
‘Look,’ I said. ‘Wait until I’ve finished here, and I’ll walk you back to the bus stop.’
‘It’s there.’ She pointed, and I swivelled to see a blue-and-white double-decker, pulling away from the kerb on the beach side of the road. ‘And I’m not going until I’ve seen her.’
‘Go and talk with your parents first, and I’ll tell Ruby you want to meet her and organise it properly.’
Kate hoisted her rucksack onto her shoulder. ‘I’d prefer to do it today, as I’ve come all this way,’ she said politely. ‘I think we’ve all wasted enough time, don’t you?’
I couldn’t really argue with that, but felt compelled to try. ‘The shock might be too much.’
‘Well, you go in first and tell her, and I’ll wait outside.’
I was starting to see she had a stubborn streak, just like Ruby’s. ‘And if I say no?’
‘I’ll shout through the letterbox,’ she said, way too drily for someone so young. It struck me how much more grown up she seemed than Megan, who was twice her age.
‘Fine,’ I said, caving in. I’d done nothing but act on impulse since arriving in Shipley, and maybe this time the result would be a positive one. ‘Give me half an hour to pack up the stall.’
By the time I’d finished, with her help, to a soundtrack of questions about my family, about Ruby’s likes and dislikes, and whether Ruby would mind Kate taking some photos on her iPhone, my head was spinning and Calum had arrived to take over.
If he was puzzled that I’d acquired a helper he didn’t comment, and as he drove off with a cheery, ‘Laters!’ I reluctantly led the way up Main Street to the bakery.
‘She lives here?’ Kate looked delighted, shielding her eyes to peer through the gleaming window. ‘I love bread,’ she said. ‘I have it with every meal.’
Something else in common with her grandmother.
‘It’s round the back,’ I said. The door was propped open to let out the heat, and anxiety rippled through my chest as I stepped inside.
‘Can I look in there?’ Kate stuck her head into the kitchen. ‘Wow, look at the size of that oven.’
‘Maybe another time,’ I said. ‘Are you coming?’
‘’Course I am.’ She followed me up the stairs. ‘Do I have a grandfather too?’
‘No,’ I said, forgetting to sugar-coat my words. ‘She never married.’
Kate fell silent as we reached the landing, clutching the straps of her rucksack.
‘Are you sure about this?’ I took out my key, hand shaking slightly. ‘It’s not too late to back out.’
‘I’m sure.’ She straightened her shoulders; a gesture that was oddly moving. It was a shame her father hadn’t embraced the situation with the same equanimity, but it was probably easier when you were a generation removed, and didn’t have abandonment issues.
I sucked in a breath. The occasion seemed to demand more than the sound of seagulls fighting by the skylight window – soaring violins perhaps, and a camera crew to capture the moment.
‘Wait here until I invite you in, OK?’ Kate pushed her fringe aside and nodded. ‘Will you be alright?’
‘Just do it,’ she said, smiling to take out the sting. ‘It’s cool.’
It was anything but cool in the flat. As I closed the door gently on Kate’s calm but eager face, I was hit by a wall of heat. The windows were shut, trapping the warmth of the day, and the tumble dryer was on. So was the oven. Closer inspection revealed a tray on the side, filled with chopped peppers, onions and courgettes, and there were two chicken breasts on a plate, covered with cling film. Ruby must have got distracted while preparing dinner.
She was probably in the bath, which was no bad thing as she was about to meet her granddaughter for the first time. Better to be damp but clean, than grubby in her old blue dressing gown.
Her laptop was open on the table, beside a notepad covered in doodled flowers. It looked like she’d placed the order for the wedding flowers, and my heart stuttered at the thought. Thanks to Kate turning up, I hadn’t thought about Tom or Megan for at least an hour.
Pushing them aside I crossed to the bathroom, but the door was ajar and I could see Ruby wasn’t inside.
Her bedroom door was shut. She must have gone back to bed. Had something happened? I hovered, my hand on the handle. What if int
roducing her to Kate was a really bad idea? She might be upset that Peter hadn’t come, but surely would see that Kate – apart from being the sort of girl anyone would love as a granddaughter – could be a bridge to her son.
Mind made up, conscious Kate was waiting and probably worrying, I was about to knock when I heard noises: soft female laughter and the rumble of a man’s voice.
‘What the…?’ I flung the door wide and was greeted by the sight of Bob the baker’s hairy buttocks, before Ruby flung the duvet over him. ‘Aunt Ruby, what’s going on?’
‘Carrie, my god, what’s the time?’ She shot up and looked wildly around, as if to make sure she was where she thought she was, before pulling her pillow around to cover her nakedness. ‘I was going to cook dinner,’ she said, shaking her head, ‘but Bob popped in and we got talking and…’ She lowered her lashes, modestly. ‘One thing led to another.’
‘So I see.’ I kept my eyes on her rosy face, pretending not to notice Bob easing his boxers on under the duvet.
‘I took your advice, Carrie, and told him everything,’ she said, as if she couldn’t quite believe it was true. ‘He’s been brilliant.’
‘Clearly.’
Bob reared up like a grizzly bear, flattened his hair with his hands and cleared his throat. ‘So sorry you had to see that.’ He sounded genuinely upset. ‘I wouldn’t want you to think I’ve taken advantage of your aunt. I came up with some milk and some finger rolls, and—’
‘It’s not that,’ I interrupted, edging further into the room. At least the window was open, a faint breeze stirring the curtain, dispelling any lingering trace of their… intimacy. Any other day, I’d have been delighted for Ruby, but of all the times to succumb to Bob’s charms, this had to be the worst. ‘You’ve got a visitor.’
‘A visitor?’ It was as if I’d spoken in tongues. ‘What sort of visitor?’
‘Someone you’ll want to see.’ I stumbled across to the cupboard and started rifling through her clothes. ‘Here, put this on.’ I flung a flower-patterned, wraparound dress down on the bed.
