‘Go home.’
‘Can’t.’
‘You can’t stay here. I don’t want you here, do you understand?’
‘Always shoutin’ at me, ain’t you, girl?’
‘You sold lies to a national newspaper, Mum! I think that gives me the right to shout.’
Senara pulled a face and made mocking crocodile-mouths with her hands, like Anna’s brother used to do when teasing her for speaking too much. Fury rising, Anna shoved her mother out of the way and moved to open the door.
‘N-n-no, Anna,’ Senara protested, swinging her body across the frame and blocking Anna’s way. ‘I just need a bit of help.’ Her cold fingers clamped across her daughter’s cheek. ‘You’re a good girl, everyone says it. You won’t let your poor old mum freeze on the street.’
‘You’re not poor. You’ve made a fortune out of me. Cash your cheque and move into that hotel – you can afford it now.’
She elbowed her swaying mother out of the way, sliding the key into the Yale lock, but Senara fell forward, pushing both women to the floor as the door swung open. Anna scrambled to her feet, standing over her mother’s sprawled, drunken body that now appeared to be attempting to swim across the floor.
‘You’re pathetic,’ she shouted. ‘Look at you!’
Senara’s body began to shake and convulse and Anna slowly recognised the dirty, retching sound it emitted as laughter. She looked down at the wreck that was once her mother and felt nothing – no anger, no sadness, not even pity for the woman who cared so little for her. She thought of the many years she had fought this woman’s battles, buried her own hurts and pushed away the shame. In the end, what had it all been for?
‘I can’t do this any more,’ she said, her voice cold and steady.
Her mother rolled onto her back, her laughter veering between amusement and tears. ‘Good old Anna Browne,’ she spit out, raising the whiskey bottle towards her. ‘Too good for her mother. Too good to come from here – ’ she slapped a hand on her abdomen, a sound like a gravel-coated sob blurting out. ‘I should’ve got rid when I had the chance . . . When your father gave me money for it.’
Before, Senara’s cruel insults would have crushed her daughter – but things had changed. None of it mattered now. Anna Browne knew her mother would only ever live to serve herself – she had been right about her from the start.
‘All my life I’ve tried to protect you. I’ve fought battles that weren’t mine and I’ve rescued you so many times, when it had nothing to do with me. But today I realised: you don’t want rescuing, do you?’
‘My life was ruined when I had you! I was happy and free and did what I liked. And then you came along and stuffed it all up. Some bloody life I’ve had, ’cause of you, Anna . . .’
It was as if both women were talking through a glass wall, years of trapped bitterness and rage finally breaking free. Anna knew that if she didn’t say this now, she never would.
‘I hoped you’d see what I did – what Ruari and I have both done for you. But you can only see yourself.’
‘Always Miss High-and-Mighty, always ashamed of me. Well, I went and got what I was owed, that’s all. Payment for years of puttin’ up with you and Ruari, for no bloody thanks . . .’
Anna stepped back from Senara as if avoiding rubbish. ‘I’m done, Mum. We’re done. Get your stuff and get out of my home.’
Senara blinked upwards, her laughter gone. ‘You don’t mean it.’
‘I said, get out.’
‘You’ll be runnin’ back, girl. Always do, in the end. You’re more like me than you think, Anna Browne.’
Blocking out her mother’s words, Anna stood firm. ‘Get out, now!’
‘Aw, come on, An . . .’ Senara was on her knees, reaching out for her.
With every last scrap of strength in her body, Anna grabbed her mother’s arm and pushed her bodily out of her apartment. ‘We are done. Get – OUT!’
‘Everything all right here?’ Seamus called, summoned to the corridor by the commotion.
‘She needs to leave. She has a train ticket.’
Seamus nodded, immediately understanding the seriousness of the situation. ‘I’ll put her in a taxi, shall I? You come with me, Miss . . .’
‘I’m going nowhere,’ Senara shouted, but Seamus had already locked an arm through hers and was pulling her away from Anna’s door. ‘Take your hands off of me! No! An! You can’t do this.’
Anna said nothing, felt nothing.
‘But I need you! Anna . . . !’
The last she saw of Senara Browne was her mother’s look of horror as Seamus dragged her out of view.
‘Lass? What’s up?’ Jonah was standing in his doorway.
As Anna’s knees gave way, he caught her, half-carrying her into her apartment. Her body felt completely drained and, as she lay back on the sofa, she closed her eyes and let her tears flow. Beneath the pain, she felt free – as if an oppressive weight that she had carried all her life had been finally lifted.
Jonah knelt by her side, maintaining a respectful distance, his hand hesitant on her shoulder. When she opened her eyes, he dug in his jeans pocket for a cotton handkerchief and handed it to her.
‘Was that your mother?’
Anna nodded.
‘Seamus said she sold a story about you.’ Jonah frowned. ‘He saw it in the paper. I take it you sent her packing?’
‘She won’t be back.’
‘I thought you were back at work now. Things not go well?’
‘No.’ She held the creased cotton to her eyes and inhaled deeply. ‘The story Mum sold caused problems, so the editor sent me home again. I just didn’t think my mother would try to come back here.’
‘I heard you shouting before you even opened your door. I’ve never heard you shout like that, Anna.’
She laughed in spite of herself. ‘I don’t think I have, either.’
‘Sometimes, it’s what’s necessary.’ He sat beside her as Anna lifted herself up. ‘You know what you need?’
‘Triple vodka?’
‘Aye, well, we can definitely arrange that. What I’m talking about lasts a bit longer and is a damn sight less painful next day. I’ve temporarily loaned Bennett to a pal of mine so his kids can practise looking after a dog, so I’m heading off in my van to catch some waves for a couple of days. Fancy tagging along?’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Cornwall.’
‘I’ll pass.’ She shook her head, the thought of sharing a county with her mother too close for comfort.
‘But I’ll be miles away from Polperro. T’other side of the county, as a matter of fact.’
‘Where?’
‘Godrevy, near St Ives. I take it you have no oddly-named relatives in the area?’
Anna smiled. ‘None that I know of.’
‘Well, there y’are. This place is special, Anna. It’s wild and away from the tourist bustle. You can be there a whole weekend and never see anyone you know. Beautiful beaches, a lighthouse and walks along the cliff path that take your breath away. It’s the only place I picture when I think of Cornwall – and it’s perfect for getting your head together. Which, pardon me for saying, looks like what you need.’
Anna considered his invitation. It was lovely of Jonah to offer and Godrevy sounded like a wonderful place, but she was tired. More than anything, she just wanted to sleep.
‘I don’t think I can. I’m sorry.’
‘That’s okay. I’ll pop th’kettle on.’ He headed for Anna’s kitchen. ‘You don’t have to decide right away, of course. I’m not leaving till eight. I drive through the night to be there when the sun comes up. So, rest now and have a think, yeah?’
Jonah stayed for an hour, then left as Anna thanked him and climbed into bed. When she woke, it was dark in her room. Disoriented, she clicked the bedside light switch and squinted at her watch.
Five to eight . . .
Recalling Jonah’s invitation, she suddenly changed her mind. She didn’t want t
o stay hiding in her apartment as the Daily Post and Daily Messenger waged a war in her name. It was time she did what she wanted, not wait for life to push her helplessly into the next drama. At that moment she was desperate to leave. Stuffing a change of clothes and a few essentials into a bag, she hurried out of her flat and dashed across the corridor. The door swung open as she raised her hand to knock, sending Jonah stumbling a step back when unexpectedly faced with her fist.
‘Is your offer still open?’ she rushed, her head dizzy from her sudden awakening.
Jonah kissed her cheek. ‘You’re just in time.’
Forty-Four
Anna awoke to the muffled sounds of the sea. She ached from her awkward sleeping position on the back seat of Jonah’s Volkswagen camper-van and her head felt stuffed with wire wool. She pulled back a blanket she didn’t remember lying underneath and rubbed her eyes. Early-morning light streamed through the camper-van windows, the sky a glow of pinks, reds and golds against the darkened hulks of grass-crowned sand dunes. She was alone – the front seat empty where her friend had stoically sat as he’d driven through the night hours.
Gaining her bearings, she looked around the vehicle’s interior, catching sight of a note propped up against a stainless-steel flask on the small melamine counter in the rear, next to a folded slate-grey garment:
Anna –
Gone surfing!
Tea in the flask for you, chocolate bars under the sink.
You might need the hoodie – it’s a bit parky out!
Back about 9 a.m.
Jonah ☺
Smiling, Anna scrambled over the back seat and opened a small cupboard door beneath the sink, to reveal a Tupperware box stuffed with chocolate bars of all varieties. Jonah was certainly prepared for sugar-based emergencies, she thought to herself. Her hunger surprised her: in recent days she had struggled to find enthusiasm for food. Helping herself to a couple of bars, she unfolded Jonah’s hooded sweatshirt and pulled it over her head, laughing at how big it was on her. Most importantly, it was warm, blocking out the damp dawn chill permeating through the thin T-shirt and jeans she had thrown on in haste last night. She stuffed the chocolate into the hoodie’s pouch pocket, took the flask and blanket and slid open the side door of the camper-van.
A rush of cold, salt air met her as she stepped out. The grass beneath her feet was dew-damp and sand-strewn, bringing a thousand memories to her mind of early Cornish mornings on deserted cliffs and beaches. She could almost picture her younger self and even younger Ruari whooping as they skidded down sand dunes, racing onto the beach. When she looked out across the still-dark sand, she could just make out black-suited bodies weaving and spinning through sunrise-painted waves, the shouts and calls of her memories morphing into those of the early-morning surfers.
Godrevy was beautiful. Anna spread out the blanket and sat down, pulling her knees up into the oversized sweatshirt and drinking in the view. She had never been here before, yet it seemed to sound a chord inside her, recalling something long forgotten. It was the call of homeland – although it surprised her to feel it. Her mother’s insistence of an irresistible pull to home that existed within every Cornish heart had become little more than a pantomime act, causing Anna to dismiss the notion. Suddenly, she understood. The wild, untameable beauty of her birthplace stole her heart and, for the first time in her life, Anna felt she belonged.
Breathing in the new sensation, she smiled. What would her mother think if she knew Anna was back in her home county again, six years since she’d left? The thought of Senara dropped like a pebble into a rock-pool, sending disquieting ripples through her mind. She didn’t have to think about the woman ever again, certainly not after the finality of her dismissal yesterday. Godrevy contained no memory of Senara to tarnish its beauty, and for that Anna was exceedingly grateful. Banishing thoughts of her mother, she focused on being present in this moment. It didn’t matter what the papers said about her, what the rumour-mill accused her of or what lay in store for her when she returned to London. She had faced off Mike Hennessy. She had stood up to her mother. She had told Ben exactly how she felt. And she had taken back ownership of her own life. From today, she could be whoever she wanted to be, no longer bound by what others thought. She had the company of a good friend and the unbelievable beauty of this tiny corner of Cornwall: what more did she need?
She caught sight of the sea-glass and shell bracelet on her wrist, which she had grabbed as she left her home. The delicate beads shone in the pink-gold glow of sunlight breaking where sky met sea. They looked at home here, too. Anna had thought nothing of bringing the bracelet with her last night, but it seemed to acquire a new meaning at Godrevy. She had made it herself, despite thinking she couldn’t make anything of the beads when they’d first arrived; now she was watching white-crested waves breaking in a place she had decided to visit, surprised by how spontaneous she had been. Both actions seemed to represent the change in her life – small but significant.
The tea from the flask was strong, perfect for warding off the autumnal bite in the air. Jonah’s sweatshirt smelled of his aftershave – warm cinnamon and spiced wood. It was comforting and friendly, as its owner had been during their drive down. As soon as they had left the city last night Anna had relaxed, the miles of darkened motorway carriageways soothing as they chatted for hours about unimportant things. Jonah knew what Anna had been through and this was enough to avoid the subject. Anna loved him for this: his unflappability and perennial steadiness were a gift after the wild histrionics of her mother and those at the Messenger. Jonah Rawdon was a good friend and Anna chided herself again for not listening to his views on Ben. Had she taken notice, it might have prevented what followed. She reminded herself that he deserved an apology while they were here.
With each new breath of perfect sea air, each bite of sweet chocolate and each sip of amber-rich tea she felt renewed, as if being in this place was healing wounds long forgotten. The power of the sea and the devastating beauty of the landscape gave her mind space to wander, her resolve room to grow. Like waking up from a troubled dream, Anna felt alive, rejuvenated. Coming here was the perfect decision. Trusting her gut had paid dividends.
Things will be different when I go home, she promised herself. She was going to stand up for herself, like she had with Juliet, with the rival Daily Post journalist and with her mother. She might look into her earlier idea of helping small businesses – perhaps even consider a career change. Anything seemed possible in the early-morning light.
‘Morning, you,’ Jonah called as he sprinted up the dune from the beach, a weather-beaten surfboard under one arm. ‘Making yourself comfy?’
‘I am.’ Anna smiled up at him. ‘How’s the surf?’
‘Awesome.’ He slid the camper-van door open, threw his board inside and brought out a towel. ‘I needed it, I can tell you. I’ve been dreaming of that swell for months.’
‘Do you come here a lot?’
‘Aye. There’s a couple of lads I know from freelancing who surf, so we tend to take turns driving down on weekends and in between jobs.’ He rubbed his hair with the towel. ‘It’s the best therapy. You should try it.’
Anna handed him the flask. ‘No thanks. My brother used to surf a lot in his teens, but I was always more of a swimmer. I’m quite happy with the view, to be honest.’
‘It’s pretty grand, isn’t it?’ He smiled over the steel cup as he blew away steam. ‘I’ve been all over and never found a place like it. Godrevy always pulls me back. I’ll live here one day, if the work keeps coming in. Can’t exist in London forever.’
He clambered into the van and emerged a few minutes later wearing a dark-blue hooded sweatshirt and long khaki cargo shorts. Flopping down onto the blanket beside Anna, he handed her a pair of binoculars.
‘I spotted a group of Arctic terns diving just off the shoreline. If you aim those over there you might still see them.’
Anna followed his pointing finger to the edge of the beach and scanned acro
ss the water until she spotted tiny white shapes plunging headlong into the waves. ‘Oh, wow . . .’ She studied the sea birds’ flight for a while; when she took the binoculars from her eyes, Jonah was smiling at her. ‘Something amusing you?’
‘I love watching folk when they see nature. That’s what I feel every time, even though it’s my job. You’d think it’d get old, but it never does. I used to watch Arctic terns off the coast in Scarborough, where my family went on holiday every year. My dad and me spent hours birdwatching. I suppose that’s where the camera stuff started.’
‘Do you see your family much?’ Anna asked. ‘I don’t think you’ve told me before.’
‘Aye, we get together when we can. Dad remarried after Mum passed, so he’s mostly in Spain these days, and my brothers are pretty spread out – Edinburgh, York and Sussex – so when the Rawdons meet up it’s a red-letter day.’ He smiled. ‘And now I know you aren’t that close to your mum.’
Anna gave a grudging smile. She had never been, and now never would be. ‘Ruari and I are close, though, so at least there’s that.’
‘Families, eh? Complicated animals.’ He nodded towards the sea. ‘Simpler to watch those fellas diving into the sea than trying to make sense of humans, I reckon.’
It was strange to be laughing about her relatives with Jonah, but now that he’d seen her mother at her worst, it really didn’t matter what else he knew. It felt good to be talking about her family and her background with him. It seemed like the change of scenery encouraged her to share new things with him – and he with her.
‘My dad nearly disowned me when I said I wanted to be a cameraman,’ he admitted, as they set off for a walk along the beach. ‘It was odd. We’d always been close, too, so it came as a bit of shock.’
‘What happened?’
‘I beat him into submission,’ Jonah grinned. ‘No, I made a film about him and Mum for their wedding anniversary, using some of their wedding photographs and old cine film. Did it like a documentary and sat them both down to watch it. Dad was a wreck by the end of it.’
A Parcel for Anna Browne Page 30
