Anna didn’t want to cause trouble between her brother and his partner, especially given the hassle they’d put up with over the last six years. Ending the call five minutes later, she sank back into the coffee shop’s leather sofa and let her thoughts wash over her.
She couldn’t be angry with her younger brother. While she had escaped to a place where Senara was unlikely to follow (or so she’d thought), Ruari had stayed in the county, never more than an hour’s drive away from their mother’s latest whim. But he had his partner and two beautiful daughters now and had worked hard to build the happy, secure home he and Anna had been denied as children. He deserved a reprieve from being the blue-eyed boy. Senara was in Anna’s city now – and it was up to her to deal with it.
An hour later, with nothing else to keep her away from her apartment and the unwelcome visitor still encamped there, Anna went home. A suspicious fug of nicotine smoke hung guiltily by the window as she entered, Senara hunched over a black coffee in Anna’s dressing gown, which she’d pilfered from the back of the bathroom door.
‘Morning.’ Gravel grated in her mother’s low voice, followed by a fit of guttural coughing. ‘Hope you don’t mind this.’ She pulled out the lapel of the dressing gown.
‘Help yourself.’
‘I did. So, how comes you’re not at work, maid? Lost your fancy job, have you?’
‘I have some time off.’
‘Ah! Plenty of time to show your old mum round your swanky town then. Convince me how the ’ell you think this place beats Kernow.’
‘I’m not taking you anywhere, except the station.’
Unmoved, Senara picked at her fingernail, dropping a shred of red nail varnish on the coffee table. ‘Like that, is it?’
‘I don’t want you here. I’m sorry.’ It surprised her to hear how boldly she addressed her mother. But she was furious with Senara for abusing Ruari’s care, and her mother needed to hear it.
‘Well, you’ve got me. Thing is, I thought your paper might like a character reference for their latest star. Bit of background, you know. Add a bit of colour. Course, it’ll cost them. But that’s how papers like that work, ain’t it?’
One thing could be said for Senara Browne – she never troubled herself with pretence.
‘They wouldn’t be interested.’
‘Your man Ben would be, I’m sure.’
‘He’s out of the city for work,’ Anna shot back, crossing her arms as a protective shield. Senara’s intention scared her more than the thought of Ben’s follow-up article, which by now would have been read all over the country. There was no telling what lies Senara would weave, if she thought it would bring her more money. ‘You have to go.’
And then, without warning, her mother burst into tears. ‘One day, An! That’s all I’m askin’ for! T’ain’t much to ask. Maybe I miss my girl – have you stopped to consider that? Maybe I want to make things right a’tween us. I turned fifty last week. My life’s headin’ towards the grave and I don’t like all I see back down the road. Your brother’s gone cold on me, too, now. I blame that maid he’s shacked up with – never liked me, she hasn’t. Oh, come on, girl! Just one day. Then I’ll catch the train tomorrow and you won’t have to hear from me again, if you don’t want to. I can make myself comfortable here – I won’t need babysittin’. How about I get us something for tea, eh? You go out and do what you have to, and I’ll sort it for when you get home?’
Anna stared at her mother, suddenly unsure. She knew Senara could cry crocodile tears like a pro when she needed to, but she couldn’t escape the hint of desperation in her mother’s voice. ‘I don’t know . . .’
‘Please, girl? I know I ain’t been a good mother – I’ve had enough folks tell me that over the years. I’ve let you down and I ain’t been there when you needed a mum. It ain’t much, but it might go towards tipping the balance back. I don’t want us at war, Anna, despite what you might think. Let me do this, then I’ll go. Promise.’
It was clear that Senara had no intention of leaving today. A little confused by her mother’s emotional response, weary from lack of sleep and having no will to fight, Anna conceded defeat. ‘Okay. I’ll be out for most of the day, though.’
Senara’s eyes lit up. ‘You take all the time you need. I’ll be fine, here, don’t you worry. Eight o’clock tea, yeah?’
In the corridor outside, Anna turned to look back at her front door. She should be worried: when had her mother ever been sincere about anything before? Anna knew she could have stood her ground, insisted that her mother leave immediately and won the sole use of her home back, but something had stopped her. Maybe it was tiredness, or perhaps a deeper motivation. For too long she’d feared the day her mother might turn up in London – maybe facing that fear with the new confidence she’d discovered in herself would help her to draw a line under the events of her childhood? This evening might be the time she could reveal who she really was, to a mother who had never taken the time to notice. And then, Anna could be free.
Still, the problem of what to do with her unwanted day off from work loomed large. Having banished herself from her own home until the evening, Anna had no choice but to keep busy – but what should she do?
On a whim, she crossed the hall and knocked on Jonah’s door. He was probably out on a project somewhere, like every other self-respecting worker in the city today. Turning away as soon as she’d knocked, she jumped when the door behind her opened.
‘Anna? What’s up, lass?’
She turned back. ‘I’m sorry, Jonah, I’ve nowhere else to go . . .’
Saying it out loud caused the frustration of the past twenty-four hours to flood over her. All of this had been brought about by someone she’d cared for – someone she trusted. Ben had forced a spotlight on Anna that she’d never asked for and now, across the country, readers of the Daily Messenger were forming opinions about her – just as the residents of Polperro had done when Senara crashed Anna’s musical performance so many years ago. It might pass quickly, but what if it didn’t? What if from now on she was known as ‘That Girl with the Parcels’, just as she’d been known as ‘That Poor Anna Browne’, years before? The thought terrified her. And it was all beyond her control . . .
Without warning, she burst into tears, her loud sobs echoing down the corridor. Frustration, weariness and the injustice of it all converged to overwhelm her; with no strength left to resist, Anna let go. Shocked, Jonah didn’t wait for an invitation, wrapping his arms around her and leading her inside.
‘It’s okay,’ he murmured against her hair. ‘It’ll all be okay.’
Thirty-Nine
The comforting warm chin of a concerned Border collie brought Anna’s tears to an end. With a small smile, she reached down to pat Bennett’s soft head.
‘See? No one’s allowed tears for long in this place,’ Jonah smiled, handing Anna a mug of tea. ‘Bennett’s rules, not mine.’
‘Thank you. And I’m sorry about crying all over you again. It’s just been an awful time after the story went out.’
Jonah frowned as he sat beside her. ‘Story?’
‘It’s okay – you don’t have to pretend. I imagine everyone’s seen it by now.’
‘Anna, I haven’t the foggiest what you’re talking about.’
Was he doing this for her benefit? ‘The article in the Messenger – that Ben wrote?’
‘Ben wrote about you?’ His frown deepened at the mention of the journalist. ‘I’ve spent the last week filming in a field, lass. Haven’t seen any papers, and – no offence – the only thing I’d use your paper for is loo roll.’
Anna was relieved to find the only person in the city who hadn’t read about her, but it did mean she had to relive the experience in order to enlighten him. He listened without passing comment, but his expression grew ever darker.
‘And then my mother turned up,’ she added, her heart dipping at the inescapable fact.
‘I thought you said she never left the Duchy?’
; ‘I didn’t think she ever would. But she’s at my place now, planning dinner.’ Anna had told Jonah little about her relationship with Senara, but it was enough for him to understand the gravity of the event. ‘I can hardly believe it.’
‘So, the article kicked her into action?’ He shook his head. ‘Families, eh? More trouble than they’re worth, sometimes.’
‘So now I have time away from work while Ben’s exclusives run, and I don’t know what will happen. I’m just hoping the story will fade and be over by the time I go back.’
‘And if it hasn’t?’
She had wondered the same herself as she hid in the coffee shop this morning. But driving herself mad thinking of every possible outcome would get her nowhere. ‘I’m just taking a day at a time.’
He nodded. ‘I understand. Well, I’ve the day off myself, so let me take you out somewhere.’
‘That would be fantastic. Thank you.’
‘Least I can do for you, lass.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘I’d offer to sort that bloody journalist out for you, but I suspect that wouldn’t help. Just know that, in my mind, I’m currently pummelling his smug little head into the pavement.’
To his credit, Jonah didn’t mention Ben again as he and Anna caught the Overground train to Kew and spent the day wandering around the beautifully peaceful Royal Botanical Gardens. The lushness of the scenery helped to take Anna’s mind off the story and her mother, and Jonah’s matter-of-fact take on it all was comforting.
‘Well, I’ve just spent the last week watching lambs get castrated,’ he grinned, as they ate ice cream in the White Peaks café, gazing out across the manicured lawns. ‘And you think you’ve had it tough. Between that, spending a day-and-a-half getting eaten alive by midges in a field and filming vets with their arms up the backside of heifers, it’s been delightful.’
Anna laughed, imagining Jonah trying to keep a straight face while filming it all. ‘You’re doing your dream job, remember?’
‘Oh aye, the glamour is exhausting.’
‘Well, at least I can say I haven’t had to shove my arm up a cow yet. So, that’s something.’
‘I think you’ll be just fine,’ he said, reaching over the table to squeeze her hand. ‘You have a great deal going for you.’
Surprised, Anna smiled. ‘Thank you. You too.’
‘Oh, don’t you worry – I know what a catch I am. Seriously, though, there’s no point fretting over stuff that hasn’t happened yet. And stuff that has happened you can just deal with at the time. Standing in a field with a camera for hours on end makes you realise how much time can be chucked away beating yourself up over rubbish. I once spent two whole weeks filming foxes and regretting breaking up with a girl back home. Made me miserable as sin, but did nothing to change the situation. I just had to deal with what had happened and move on. You’ll be fine, Anna.’
Jonah’s faith in her was as welcome a sight as the natural beauty of the gardens soothing Anna’s eyes and soul. ‘That’s a lovely thing to say.’
‘Aye, well, I come up with profound chat every now and again,’ he grinned. ‘Not bad for an Ilkley lad, eh?’
All too soon the day ended, the knot in Anna’s stomach twisting tighter as she neared home. Jonah said goodbye to her in the corridor and planted a hesitant kiss on her cheek, ‘for luck’. Bracing herself, Anna opened her front door.
‘Ah, right on time,’ Senara called.
The sight that greeted Anna stopped her in the doorway. The mess of her mother’s belongings, which earlier had commandeered most of her living room, was gone. An open bottle of red wine and two glasses had been placed on the coffee table, along with a couple of lit tea-lights as a centrepiece. Soft music hummed from the radio on the kitchen counter and the smell of cooking filled the air. In the centre of it all, wearing an apron that might as well have been a suit of armour for the awkward way it sat on its wearer, was Senara, stirring simmering saucepans, her stack of silver bangles jingling as she moved. Anna wondered if she had inadvertently entered an invisible portal and was now in an alternative-universe version of her apartment, facing the domestic-goddess facsimile of her mother.
‘Is . . . everything okay?’
‘I’m doin’ well, An, as you can clearly see.’ She chuckled. ‘Don’t look so shocked, girl! Your old ma’s learned a bit of stuff since you last saw her. Chuck some wine in them glasses, yeah? It’s thirsty work, this cookin’ business.’
Alcohol seemed the perfect solution to make sense of what she was seeing. Anna poured two large glasses and downed half of hers in a single gulp. For Senara to find a kitchen in the first place was remarkable; for her to be cooking apparently from scratch, when her idea of ‘classy food’ used to be tinned spaghetti Bolognese, bordered on world-shaking significance. ‘Did you find everything you needed?’ Anna was careful to keep her voice steady.
‘I went to the supermarket just down the street. Got everything in there, ain’t they?’ She indicated an empty carrier bag on the kitchen counter. ‘And get your old mum, eh? Like that Nigella, only with better tits.’
It was too much for Anna to take in. She sat and watched Senara blustering around her kitchen, thinking she would wake up any second. Her phone buzzed and the screen displayed a number she didn’t recognise.
‘Hello?’
‘Anna, it’s Ben.’
She ended the call and threw the mobile onto the sofa cushions, her heart thudding. She’d deleted his number from her phone, but why hadn’t she blocked it, too? Trust Ben to think she’d still want to hear from him. How dare he expect her to talk to him, after what he’d done? The screen lit up again, the same number appearing as the mobile vibrated itself almost full circle.
‘Ain’t you going to answer that?’ Senara called.
‘No.’
The ringing ended, then began again. ‘Seems awfully keen, whoever it is.’
‘I don’t want to talk to him,’ Anna replied, kicking herself for giving too much away.
Her mother’s eyes lit up and she sashayed across the living room to pick up her wine glass. ‘Ah, so it’s a man, is it?’
‘Leave it, Mum.’
‘My little Anna all grown-up and breaking hearts over London,’ Senara mocked, her amber eyes wide with amusement. ‘Well, I never. Always thought you’d end up a spinster, if I’m honest. But nice to see you provin’ me wrong.’ She bent down and snatched up the phone before Anna could stop her. ‘And he isn’t even in your address book? You into one-nighters now, maid?’
Infuriated, Anna held out her hand. ‘Give it back.’
‘Who is he? No, I’m curious. What’s his name?’
‘I’m not telling you. Give my phone back, please, Mum.’
Senara’s face lit up with scandal. ‘No – it couldn’t be, could it? You’ve been shaggin’ that journalist, haven’t you?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ The defensiveness in her tone gave the game away.
‘I’m right, aren’t I? Oh-ho, An, you shagged him and he did the dirty on you!’
‘I didn’t “shag” him . . .’
‘Maybe not, but your face tells me you weren’t afar off. Bloody Nora, girl, turns out you take after your old mum after all.’
This was a step too far. Anna shot to her feet and snatched her phone back. ‘I am not like you. I will never be like you!’
Still laughing, Senara held her hands up and stepped away. ‘Calm yourself. I was only jokin’, wasn’t I? Thing is, An: men are all the same, in the end. Unreliable. Liars. Crooks. Like your father and Ruari’s father, and every man I’ve had the misfortune to care for. They take what they’re after and drop you like a stone. I know, better than anyone.’ She sat down and patted the sofa cushion next to her. ‘Now sit. Have another tot of wine. You looks like you need it.’
Anna’s phone rang for a third time. She turned it off and slumped next to Senara, her mind so conflicted over Ben that she momentarily forgot the fight with her mother. ‘I wish he’d leave
me alone. He’s done enough damage already.’
‘Like him, did you?’
Anna turned to her mother and answered truthfully. ‘I thought I did.’
‘Smooth-talker, was he?’
‘He’s a journalist, so . . .’
Senara nodded. ‘Say no more. I know the type. Spun his words round you till you were dizzy, I bet.’
‘Something like that.’
‘Just like your dad.’
The revelation caught Anna by surprise. ‘Really?’
‘Mm-hmm.’
Daring to take advantage of the unexpected moment of understanding between them, Anna pushed her luck. ‘In what way?’
‘Beautiful words, he had. And a body to match.’
‘Was he a journalist, too?’
Her mother gave a snort. ‘Hardly.’
‘Tell me about him?’ Anna willed her mother to speak. Her father had been the reason she’d fallen in love with London, believing him to be in the city. If Senara told her more about him now, there was a chance – however slim – that she might be able to find him.
‘Oh, the stories I could tell about him . . .’ Her voice trailed off and Anna held her breath. Was this it? All her life Anna had asked questions about him and Senara had refused to answer them. Now she felt closer to her mother breaking her silence than they had ever been before. ‘He was a— Damn it, my pan’s boiling over.’
Leaving Anna open-mouthed, Senara dashed across to the kitchen to grab the bubbling pan. And while the possibility could have remained for her to elaborate, Anna knew the moment had passed. She eyed the half-empty bottle of red wine and a thought began to form: perhaps if she kept the wine flowing this evening, Senara would relax enough to answer some of the questions Anna had carried all her life. She had relented once, on only a few sips of wine this evening – surely it could happen again?
As her mother crashed and clattered over her kitchen creation, Anna sneaked into her bedroom to pull two bottles of red from the small wine rack in the bottom of her coat cupboard. The wine rack had been a gift three Christmases ago from Jonah, after Anna admitted she had nowhere to store wine. The bottles were various Christmas, birthday and thank-you gifts from friends and at work, left in the wine rack for an opportunity to share with someone, as Anna rarely drank alone. Tonight presented a perfect occasion to break into her collection.
A Parcel for Anna Browne Page 26
