Mum shrugs. ‘No one seems to know. It’s all very hush-hush.’
‘Mystery and intrigue in Sandybridge, whatever next?’ I grin.
‘Maybe you’d know a bit more if you came back to live here,’ Mum suggests slyly. ‘Would you like to come and live with Granny, Ava?’
‘Mum!’ I hiss furiously.
But Ava has already heard. ‘Yay! Live with Granny!’ she calls, lifting her piece of cake up and waving it in the air in celebration.
‘See?’ Mum says triumphantly. ‘You’re the only one that doesn’t know what’s best for you. Even Ava is keen.’
‘Ava thinks there will be cake for every meal,’ I tell Mum. ‘It’s hardly a glowing recommendation for coming back to live here.’
But I have to admit that returning to Sandybridge this time feels a bit different to all the previous times I’ve come home over the years. I don’t know what has changed, but something has, and I’m keen to find out what.
Thirty
We’re going to spend the day helping Mum in the shop, so having got Ava ready and left her downstairs with Mum – the two of them happily playing a spelling game Mum has bought for her – I’m hurriedly getting myself dressed.
I opt for one of my favourite shirts – the white one with pretty multicoloured buttons all down the front. It’s only Primark, but that’s all I can afford these days; a far cry from the designer shirts I would pay a fortune for when Simon and I were together. When I think how much I used to spend on clothes, I shudder. The price of one designer shirt would feed Ava and me for a month.
But as I go to do up one of the buttons on this Primark gem, I realise the thread is coming loose. Damn, if that button is put under any pressure, my bust will end up popping into view – and that’s the last thing I need today.
‘Mum!’ I call downstairs. ‘Have you got a needle and some white thread?’
‘There’s a sewing basket in the cupboard in Ava’s room,’ Mum calls back. ‘You should find everything you need in there. I think it’s on the top shelf.’
With my shirt half-buttoned, I head across the landing. Even though I haven’t slept in here for over twenty years, and it’s been known as Ava’s room since Mum and Dad happily finished decorating it as a nursery when she was born, I still think of it as my old room. I open the door and, ignoring all Ava’s mess strewn across the floor, I head to the built-in wardrobe and scan the top shelf. There is indeed a wicker sewing box sitting up there. I lift it down and I’m about to close the door and head back to the spare room to sew on my button when I spy something black poking out from underneath a pile of old blankets and pillows.
Remy.
After the last time, when he’d ended up at the shop, I’d asked Mum and Dad to keep him here for me. Even though I’ve said over and over again since I first found him that I’m never going to use him again, I can’t bear to get rid of him just in case…
I hesitate for a moment, knowing that if I pull him out of the wardrobe I’ll be opening myself up to all sorts of trouble again. In one of my last letters from Remy, he’d been all for me marrying Simon – and look how well that turned out.
No, I’m not about to chance any more ‘well-meaning’ advice.
I close the wardrobe and I’m almost at the door when I trip over one of Ava’s dolls lying on the floor. Ava has three favourite toys that go everywhere with her: Maisie – her rag doll; Bunny – her floppy-eared white rabbit; and Charlie – her golden-haired teddy bear, who she named after her favourite uncle and his strawberry blond hair.
I pick up Maisie and I’m about to place her on the bed with the others when I pause, looking down at the doll in my hands. If I hadn’t married Simon, Ava wouldn’t exist. My little girl, who I love so much, wouldn’t even be here.
I think about this for a few seconds; if I could go back, would I choose not to marry Simon, in an attempt to prevent all the heartbreak I’d suffered during and after our break-up? But if I did that, then I wouldn’t have my gorgeous baby girl… and life without her is unimaginable to me now.
Maybe marrying Simon had been the best thing for my future, and Remy’s seemingly incorrect advice was actually spot-on.
I look towards the wardrobe again. Mum keeps going on at me to come back here to live, and I keep saying no. But what’s so great about my life in London? I live in a small flat on a questionable estate, and my rent for the privilege is extortionate, as is my council tax – and it’s definitely not an area I’d choose for Ava to grow up in if I had a choice. London was great when Simon and I had money, good jobs and a social life, but these days, struggling to get by with a small child, city life isn’t quite so wonderful.
Suddenly my mind’s made up. I put Maisie down on the bed and go across the room to the wardrobe.
When I’ve freed Remy from his blanket and pillow prison, I place him on the chest of drawers where he always used to sit when this was my room, then I close the bedroom door quietly, and turn to look at him.
‘So… maybe you were right again,’ I whisper, hoping Mum and Ava won’t hear me downstairs. ‘Perhaps telling me to marry Simon was the best thing for me, because I have Ava now, and she’s the most precious thing in my whole life. But…’ I look back to the door, just in case, ‘that life isn’t so great any more, and I want to make it better, for me and for Ava. So, Remy, I need your advice again. What should I do to make things better for us?’
As always when I ask, nothing happens. So I collect up my sewing box and return to the spare room, where I spend the next few minutes sitting on the bed sewing my button on. Then I brush my hair – now that I can’t afford expensive hairdressers, it’s long again and back to my natural colour, or at least as natural as I’m prepared to let it go; I rely on a box from the chemist’s to colour the stray grey hairs – check myself in the mirror, collect my bag and make my way to the top of the stairs. Where I pause.
I wonder…
I peek through the door of my old bedroom and, to my delight, it’s already there:
Dear Grace,
I’m so pleased you’ve come back to me again.
As I’ve told you in the past, my advice is always given with your best interests at heart. And as you are now beginning to understand, sometimes bad things have to happen before good things can.
My advice to you right now is to stay close by. People who you love need you more than you realise.
Love, Me x
As always I read the letter through twice, and then instead of popping it in my bottom drawer like I used to, I fold it and place it carefully in my bag.
‘Are you ready yet, Grace?’ Mum calls up the stairs. ‘Ava is getting a little restless.’
‘Coming, Mum!’ I call. Ava’s never been good at sitting still for long – according to Mum, she’s a lot like I used to be.
The three of us make our way to the shop on foot. Even though I’ve been expecting to see a few changes, I’m unprepared for what confronts us once she unlocks the door.
The once neat and tidy shelves and cabinets, crammed with antiques and knick-knacks for people to browse over and hopefully buy, are now in a state of chaos. Every surface I look at seems to be covered in a thick layer of dust. The pristine back room, where Dad kept his books and records, is a complete tip, with papers and bills – some of them in red ink – piling up on the little desk where he was often to be found when he was working in the shop.
Mum notices my shocked expression.
‘It’s a bit of a muddle right now,’ she says, hurriedly repositioning a couple of glass vases as if that will make a difference. ‘But I’ve not been myself lately…’
‘Just lately, Mum? Or a bit longer than that?’
Ava runs over to a raggedy Steiff teddy bear and picks it up to cuddle. A huge cloud of dust puffs up around her, and she starts coughing.
‘Don’t touch anything, Ava,’ I tell her gently, taking the bear from her arms. ‘We need to do some tidying up first, then you can play with the bear.’
‘I guess things have been going a bit awry since your dad…’ Mum admits, looking around her as if this is the first time she’s noticed the state of the shop. ‘The business is a lot to handle on your own.’
‘Don’t you have Nadja in to help any more?’ I say, opening up a couple of the little windows at the back of the shop to let some air in. I daren’t leave the front door ajar or people will think we’re open, and I don’t want any prospective customers to see the shop looking like this.
Mum shakes her head. ‘She moved to Newcastle to be with her boyfriend.’
Nadja had been brought in by my parents last year to help out in the shop. She was Polish, and at first I’d been doubtful about her knowledge of British antiques and collectables, but there was no denying she’d been a great help to Mum and Dad as they struggled to cope with the business.
‘When did she go?’
‘About six weeks ago.’
‘Six weeks! Have you tried to get anyone else? Ava, be careful with that!’ I say as Ava begins bashing the number buttons on the till, which is thankfully switched off.
‘No, it’s difficult on the amount I can afford to pay anyone. The shop isn’t doing as well these days. I don’t have the inclination to run the place like I used to, or the energy to seek out new stock.’
‘Then maybe the time has come to sell?’ I suggest, knowing the reaction I’ll get. Mum’s always been as adamant about not selling the shop as I’ve been about not moving back to Sandybridge. We first discussed it shortly after Dad died, but she was insistent she wanted to keep the shop, in his memory.
‘Maybe it has,’ she says to my surprise. ‘I certainly can’t run it on my own any more. Just look at the place.’ She indicates the half-empty shelves covered in dust and sighs. ‘I’m ashamed of it, Grace.’ Then to my horror she begins to cry. ‘What would your dad have thought? This place was his pride and joy.’
Ava jumps down from the till and rushes over to take hold of a now sobbing Mum’s hand. ‘Here…’ She reaches into the pocket of her dungarees and passes Mum a sweet. ‘This will make you feel better, Granny Harper.’
‘Aw, thank you, Ava. What a lovely, caring granddaughter I have. What it is to have family around you.’ She looks up at me imploringly.
I reach into my bag for a tissue, and at the same time I pull out the letter.
… stay close by. People who you love need you more than you realise.
‘OK, OK – you win! I’ll help you,’ I tell her, passing her the tissue. ‘If you want to sell the shop, I’ll help you get it ready for sale. And…’ I glance at Ava, still holding Mum’s hand, ‘if you want to keep it, I’ll help you run it until we can find you some new staff.’
‘You will?’ Mum stops sniffing and looks at me, her eyes wide behind her tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses. ‘Do you mean it, Grace? You and Ava will move in with me and help me out with the shop?’
‘Only temporarily,’ I insist. ‘Until we can sort everything out.’
‘But what about your work in London – your flat?’
‘I’m owed some holiday from work – they’re usually quite flexible about me taking it. And the rent on my flat is paid up until the end of the month, so it’ll be fine. It’s not like it’s a permanent thing,’ I remind her. ‘It can’t be: Ava starts school in September, we have to be back for that.’
‘Of course.’ Mum nods, but she can’t stop herself from smiling. ‘Oh, Grace, just to have the two of you here with me for the summer will be wonderful!’
‘We stay with Granny? We eat cake?’ Ava asks, looking delighted at the prospect.
‘Yes, Ava, as much cake as you like!’ Mum promises.
‘Er… only on special occasions,’ I correct. ‘But yes, Ava, we’re going to have a little holiday here in Sandybridge with Granny Harper, and help her out in her shop. Does that sound like fun?’
Ava claps her hands in excitement. ‘Shop, Granny and cake!’ she squeaks. ‘I love Sandy Bridges.’
Dear Grace,
More people love and care for you than you realise.
I know your heart is still hurting, and therefore is closed to new opportunities.
But watch out for them, Grace. They’re coming to you very soon.
Love, Me x
Thirty-One
‘Hurry up, Ava,’ I say as I wait in the newsagent’s next to an indecisive Ava, who is trying to decide what sweets she wants to buy with the bit of pocket money Mum has given her for helping clean the shop. ‘We need to get back to Granny’s shop so she can go to the auction this afternoon.’
Since my decision to stay in Sandybridge to help Mum out, we’ve been working non-stop, getting the shop in order. Ava and I have helped clean and tidy and catalogue all the stock, and now we’re looking to get new items in. There were a few requests for house clearances that Mum hadn’t dealt with under a pile of other paperwork in Dad’s old office, so I contacted the people, hoping it wasn’t too late. Luckily, for a couple of them it wasn’t. While Mum watched Ava, I went and cleared as much stuff as I could from the houses, keeping anything I thought might be worthwhile to be sold in the shop, listing some of the items on eBay, and giving the rest to the charity shop just up the street from us.
Ava and I have only been here a week, but already the shop is looking in better shape.
Surprisingly, I’ve quite enjoyed helping Mum get the business back on its feet; so much so that when I had to pop to London to pick up some more clothes for Ava and me (we’d only planned on visiting for a few days, so had travelled light), far from wishing I could linger in the city, I couldn’t wait to return to Sandybridge. All the more so since this time I was travelling by train – a journey that was so much quicker than the bus Ava and I had been forced into taking because it was the cheapest option.
‘Grace?’ I’ve been so lost in my thoughts about Sandybridge and the shop that I jump at the sound of my name.
‘Danny!’ I cry, turning around. ‘How are you?’
‘Still not fully functioning, as you can see,’ he says, winking and gesturing down at his legs. ‘Other than that, I’m very well, thank you. How are you?’
‘I’m good, thanks.’
‘And is this beautiful little Ava?’ he asks, looking at Ava – who’s still debating between a packet of Smarties and a Milky Bar, or some Magic Stars and a packet of Cadbury Buttons. ‘I haven’t seen her since she was a baby!’
I nod. ‘Yes, that’s my daughter, the chocoholic.’
‘I’d go with the buttons,’ Danny says to Ava. ‘Always been one of my favourites.’
Ava looks with interest at Danny. ‘Why are you in a pushchair?’ she asks to my horror.
‘No, Ava, it’s a wheelchair,’ I correct her as my cheeks redden. ‘I’m so sorry, Danny,’ I apologise. ‘She’s only four.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Danny tells me, wheeling himself closer to Ava. ‘Ava, this is a special type of pushchair – see?’ He gestures to his wheels. ‘I push myself around in it and, just between you and me, I go very, very fast in it most of the time when I really shouldn’t!’
I smile as I watch Ava immediately warm to Danny. She’s a bit of a daredevil herself, always the first to throw herself around adventure playgrounds and dive into ball pits.
‘Can I have a go?’ Ava asks, her eyes shining; she appears to have forgotten all about her sweet dilemma.
‘I can give you a ride, if you like,’ Danny offers. ‘That’s if it’s OK with Mummy?’
I nod. ‘Sure, but we have to get back to the antiques shop – Mum’s waiting for us.’
‘Then I shall accompany you there, and Ava can ride in pride of place, like a princess with her own carriage!’
Ava sits on Danny’s lap, clutching her bag of sweets, while Danny pushes himself along the pavement next to me, and we head in the direction of the shop.
‘So, how’s things?’ Danny asks as I walk along next to him. ‘Sorry to hear about you and Simon.’
‘Yeah,
well… you know,’ I reply, feeling my face flush. Danny had warned me not to rush into marrying Simon, and now it feels weird discussing my break-up with him.
‘Yeah, I do actually,’ Danny says to my surprise. ‘I guess you heard about me and Rebecca?’
I nod. ‘I’m sorry too.’
Danny sighs. ‘It wasn’t the most amicable break-up. She found someone else.’
Although Danny still pushes Ava along with brisk, strong movements, I’m sure I see his shoulders tighten at this revelation.
‘She seemed so nice, the few times I met her,’ I tell him. ‘You weren’t to know what would happen.’
‘That she would become a lesbian and run off with another woman? No, I didn’t see that one coming!’ Danny says wryly. ‘Neither did I expect that I’d only see my daughter once in a blue moon.’
‘How old is Emily now?’ I ask hesitantly.
‘Eleven,’ he says, ‘and as pretty as a picture. That’s the only way I get to see her most of the time these days – in photos.’
‘I’m so sorry, Danny,’ I say. ‘I know how hard break-ups are. But at least I still have Ava. I can’t begin to imagine how you’re feeling.’
‘How can we ever know what’s going to happen to us?’ he says after a few moments. ‘If only we all had a crystal ball presented to us when we’re born, then we’d be able to predict our future a little better, and maybe we wouldn’t make so many mistakes.’
‘Yeah,’ I reply cautiously, thinking of Remy, ‘that would be handy, wouldn’t it? But sometimes making those mistakes is necessary so we can discover something even better as a result.’
Danny looks up at me from his chair. ‘Are you suggesting we’ve both got married and then split from our partners so that something wonderful can happen to us?’
I nod. ‘Probably. No, make that definitely. There’s always a silver lining to every problem. A rainbow after every storm. A —’
Letters from Lighthouse Cottage Page 21
