Fiona leans her head against the headrest and closes her eyes.
‘You’re happily married, aren’t you?’ she says.
Her words are like a slap in the face, and I freeze.
Why is she asking me that? What does she mean?
‘I was too once,’ she continues, keeping her eyes closed.
I blink at her.
‘He pulls this shit all the time,’ she says quietly.
‘It is bad that he has to work such long hours,’ I offer.
Fiona laughs.
‘He’s not working,’ she says. ‘He’s having an affair.’
What?
‘He’s been having an affair for years,’ she says lightly, finally opening her eyes and fixing her stony gaze forward. ‘Way before Katy arrived. I don’t know who with. Multiple women I expect.’
I stare at her, my heart humming in my ears.
My dad cheated on my mum, right before he left. Their marriage was already in pieces, but that was the final blow.
I don’t want to have this conversation with her; I barely know her. I want to change the subject. This isn’t my business. But I feel myself pulled towards her. I can’t look away.
‘Does he know you know?’ I say.
She shrugs. ‘Who knows? Probably not, or he’d expect me to leave him and take the kids.’
‘Well why don’t you?’ I say, my voice stronger. ‘You’re an amazing mum, Fiona, you’re all the kids need. You could do it.’
A small laugh pumps out of her and she pulls her sagging eyes up to meet mine.
‘I wish I was as sure as you.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
KATY
I fling open my suitcase and start to fold my clothes as neatly as possible. I’ve been awake since six. I didn’t set an alarm, but my eyes pinged open as soon as the yellow sunlight crept into my room. I grabbed my phone immediately, hoping for a message from Rachel reassuring me that everything was okay and giving me some sort of update as to why she couldn’t say no to crashing a private family event with my boss.
I scowl at my phone, which is still smiling up at me, motionless.
My train doesn’t leave until midday. Once I realised Rachel wasn’t going to make contact with me, I started cleaning the house and restoring it to its naturally perfect state. I even managed to resist trying the fantastic cherry cake I made, which is sitting proudly on the kitchen table, ready and waiting for Rachel.
I try and smile as I fold my clothes, but a chill rinses over me as Isaac’s face pushes into my mind. I left his house shortly after I got the message from Rachel. A part of me told him I was going home early to see if he’d react and ask me to stay, but he didn’t. He barely said anything.
I shouldn’t have gone on a date with him. I knew it was a bad idea. We only work when we’re together, and I need to go back to London. That’s all there is to it. I mean, really, aside from Rachel and Danny, how many people actually end up with their childhood sweethearts? And let’s be honest, I’m not even one hundred per cent sure that they’re even still together.
As I sigh and run my fingers through my hair, my phone flashes. I grab it and see a message from Ellie.
Hi! So excited for the party. I’ve spoken to the other girls and they are up for it too. Let me know if you want me to bring anything. Will be so good to see Rachel again, we can’t wait x
I stare down at the text.
I know something is wrong with Rachel. I can feel it, but whatever it is, she won’t tell me. I’m not expecting her to tell me at the party, but I’m hoping she might realise that things aren’t as bad as she thinks they are. I’m hoping she’ll realise she can still trust me and decide to let me in.
Bruno yelps from downstairs and I jump as I hear a knock on the front door. My stomach squeezes as I put down a pile of socks and run down the stairs. I knew Isaac would stop by at some point this morning, but I was hoping it would be after I left.
I pull open the door and feel my stomach turn over. He’s back to how he looked on the first day I arrived. His face is scrunched up and his shoulders are hunched over, as though he’s creating a barrier that I can’t get through. His eyes dart around, making sure to look absolutely anywhere that doesn’t involve making eye contact with me, and he’s back in those horrible brown boots.
He’s still mad. I knew he would be.
‘Hi,’ I say, reaching down and grabbing Bruno as he threatens to bound outside.
‘Hi.’
I’m about to ask him how he is, but I clamp my lips together as I feel a rush of irritation storm through me.
If he wants to knock on my door without warning, then he can make the small talk. I never said to him that I was going to stay in Wales; he should know how important my job is to me. How can he expect me to give everything up for him? Who does he think he is?
I feel my chin lift as I wait for him to speak. He continues to shuffle in his boots.
‘Have you heard from Rachel?’
I raise my eyebrows. That can’t be the question he’s come round to ask me.
‘Not today,’ I say coolly. ‘Have you?’
‘No.’
‘Right.’
We sink back into silence and a gust of wind whips past us.
Is he not going to say anything else? Why is he here? What does he want?
‘Right,’ I say again. ‘Well, I need to pack. I leave in just under an hour, so . . .’
I lean on the door and pretend I’m about to shut it, and finally Isaac’s green eyes snap up to mine. I feel a jolt of electricity shoot through me and will my face to remain still.
‘So you’re going then?’ he says, his voice cold.
‘Yes,’ I say, matching his tone. ‘I need to get back to work.’
He shrugs. ‘Fine.’ He looks away again. ‘I was a bit drunk last night. I shouldn’t have said that stuff to you about staying here. I didn’t mean it.’
My stomach drops.
He’s taking back what he said?
‘Right,’ I say, trying to keep my voice steady as my heart thumps in my chest. ‘Well, good.’
He shoves his hands in his pockets. ‘I still don’t think you should throw that party for Rachel,’ he says childishly.
I feel a zap of annoyance.
Why does he think he knows Rachel so much better than I do?
‘Well I don’t care what you think,’ I snap. ‘Now I really need to pack. I’ll see you at the party, assuming you’ll come.’
‘Look,’ Isaac shuffles his feet awkwardly, ‘this isn’t about us. I really think Rachel wouldn’t want a party right now. I just think—’
‘Coo-ee!’
My scowl shifts from Isaac as I spot Peggy bundling down the path holding a large Tupperware box. A long emerald pashmina is twisted round her neck and fluttering in the wind, and her kind eyes are framed in glittery eyeliner.
Does she always dress like this?
Actually, I’m glad she’s here. I need to invite her to the party.
‘Hi, Peggy,’ I say, forcing myself to smile. ‘How are you?’
She beams at us both. ‘Sorry to drop in again!’ she says, ignoring my question, ‘but I was baking shortbread this morning and made too much, so I thought you might like some for the journey home.’ Her eyes twinkle at me. ‘Or I thought we could have some now over a cuppa and get to know each other a bit better,’ she adds, looking over my shoulder as though planning to sneak past me.
I try to hide my confusion. Why does she want to get to know me?
‘Oh, that’s so kind,’ I say, after realising I’ve been silent for a few seconds, ‘but I’ve got a train to catch. But,’ I add pointedly, shooting Isaac a look, ‘hopefully I’ll see you on Tuesday. I’m throwing Rachel a surprise birthday party, as she didn’t have much of a celebration on our actual birthday.’
Peggy opens her mouth to speak, but Isaac gets there first.
‘And I was saying to Katy that perhaps Rachel wouldn’t like a surprise par
ty now?’ He raises her eyebrows at Peggy and I glare at him.
Who is he to try and ruin my idea by getting Peggy on his side?
Peggy looks from me to Isaac, and then suddenly a wide smile springs onto her face.
‘I think that’s a wonderful idea, love!’ she trills. ‘I think Rachel will love it, and it will give the two of you a chance to catch up and have a good talk.’
And then, bizarrely, she leans forward and gives my wrist a squeeze.
That was weird.
‘Well, I won’t keep you if you’ve got a train to catch,’ Peggy says, handing me the Tupperware. ‘I’ll see you on Tuesday!’
I go to shoot Isaac a look of triumph, but to my alarm, his shoulders are slumped forward.
Is he really that anti the party?
‘It’ll be at four p.m. at the cottage,’ I say, trying to ignore the weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. ‘See you then.’
Peggy waves and clacks back towards her car. As she leaves, I look back at Isaac, whose chin is now pressed into his chest as though he’s trying to hide himself.
‘Will you come?’ I say.
He leans down and rubs Bruno’s ears, his face still creased in a deep frown.
‘Sure,’ he says, his voice flat. ‘Bye then. Enjoy London.’
‘Bye,’ I manage, but it comes out as barely more than a whisper as Isaac turns on his heel and disappears. The door clicks shut and Bruno lets out a whine, and as I look down at him, I notice my eyes are filled with tears.
‘For God’s sake,’ I mutter, wiping the tears away and marching back up the stairs.
I can’t cry over Isaac. There is no point.
Back in my bedroom, I start throwing clothes into the suitcase, no longer bothering to carefully fold anything.
I’ve moved on. I’ve made a better life for myself in London, a happier life. I moved from Wales for a reason. I hate it here. All being here does is remind me of everything I’ve lost. My parents, my childhood, my grandma.
As Grandma’s kind face moves into my mind, the tears I’ve been fighting push their way to the surface and my heart starts to ache. I never understood the phrase ‘heartbroken’ until she died, but it literally felt as though my heart was torn clean in two.
My can of deodorant rolls off the bed onto the floor. I reach down to pick it up and catch my breath as my eyes land on a small container. Slowly I reach forward and pull it out from under the bed.
As I hold it in my hands, I suddenly feel as if I’m going to collapse.
I know what this is. It’s the urn I’ve been searching for – that Rachel and I have been searching for – for the last two years. It’s the urn Rachel has always claimed Mum has kept, even though we wanted to scatter the ashes together. Even though it was Grandma’s dying wish to be scattered on the cliff above the village.
But she’s had it, all this time Rachel’s had it.
My hands tighten around the urn and fat tears splatter down my face as I stare down at the name engraved on the side.
Violet Carpenter
It’s Grandma’s ashes.
CHAPTER THIRTY
RACHEL
I look around Katy’s cabin, which is moving up and down slightly as I bob on Jasmine’s space hopper. There was no way I’d manage to carry my pregnancy ball to London by myself, so I shoved it in the loft along with everything else before I left. Jasmine loved the idea of me borrowing her hopper instead.
My train leaves in ninety minutes, and although this is just a little lodge that Katy isn’t even in, I don’t want to go. I feel closer to her here than I have done since she moved away. I feel as though as soon as I leave we’ll go back to our static, false relationship.
I draw a large heart on a pink Post-it note, Katy’s favourite colour, and stick it on the fridge. The lodge looks almost unrecognisable. I’ve filled her freezer, cleaned the place from top to bottom and left little Post-it notes with positive messages for her to find. I hate the idea of work being so stressful for her in the last week thanks to me, so at least she can come back to a clean, calming home.
I clamber to my feet, holding my coat around me, as I catch sight of myself in Katy’s floor-length mirror.
My bump is now swelling out of me, arching my back and making me lollop about like Mr Blobby. I can’t believe how enormous I’ve become. I dread to think how big this baby is. If I allow myself to think about childbirth for too long, I feel as if my vagina might close up in fright.
I pick up my suitcase and wheel it out of the lodge, taking one last look before I close the door behind me. Thank God the place was such a tip when I arrived; cleaning and cooking ended up being the perfect distraction. If I hadn’t had those things to do, I would have gone mad.
I rap my knuckles on the French doors that lead into Fiona’s kitchen. Jasmine springs up and pulls the door open, her face bursting with glee.
‘You’re still here!’ she cries, launching her arms around my middle. ‘I thought you’d gone!’
‘I am going,’ I say, giving her a squeeze. ‘I just wanted to say goodbye to you all.’
Fiona leans against the door frame and pulls Jasmine closer to her. Today, her face looks sunken and the usual bright, spontaneous light that shines isn’t there.
‘It’s been lovely to meet you, Rachel,’ she says, her voice calm and steady.
I feel my stomach turn over. She must regret telling me everything last night.
‘Thank you for letting me stay,’ I say. ‘I’ve had a lovely time.’
‘You’re wearing my bracelet!’ Jasmine chimes, grabbing hold of my hand and yanking it towards her.
‘Yeah,’ I say, smiling down at her, ‘of course.’
‘Would you like a lift to the station?’
‘No,’ I say, ‘thank you. My taxi should be here any second. I’d better go and wait for it.’
I give a little wave to William, who is clinging to Fiona’s leg, and then pull my suitcase over the gravel, wishing I could go back to laughing with Fiona and the children over dinner like we were a big family.
Is this the Fiona Katy sees? Cold and distant? Is this why her flat was in such a state when I arrived and she was so obsessed with connecting to the internet so she could log onto her emails?
I climb into the back of the taxi and mumble a hello to the driver. The next ten minutes slide by as I stare out of the window trying to silence the thoughts flying through my mind. Eventually my phone snaps me back to reality with one short, sharp buzz:
I know about Grandma’s ashes. I don’t know what’s going on with you lately, but I know you’re a liar.
My blood turns cold as I read the last line.
I clearly don’t know anything about you, and I don’t want to.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
KATY
I press my face against the window of the taxi, pushing tears from my face as they continue to fall. I didn’t have much family before I left London, and now I’m returning, I feel as though I have virtually none at all.
Our grandma was the light in our family. She moved into our home when we were about eight. For years I never knew why, and just assumed that she wanted to be with us all the time and couldn’t bear to live away from us, but as I got older, I realised it was to shield our ears from the shouting coming from our parents. In the end, she almost raised us. She took us to school and helped us with our homework; she taught Rachel how to bake and bought me my first set of paints. She was the beating heart that held us all together, and when she died, I felt as though she took a part of me with her.
We knew she was going to die months before she did, although we denied it. She wasn’t well, and had recently turned ninety. I always said how she had to make it to one hundred, to get a letter from the Queen if nothing else! She laughed at this. She did try to tell me that this was the end, but I wouldn’t listen. One of the last things she said to Rachel and me was how she wanted to be scattered on the cliff facing our house, so she could always look over us and joi
n us on our walks. Every day that went by when those ashes weren’t scattered, I felt a weight of guilt pull me down that we weren’t doing what she’d asked. But we couldn’t; our mum wanted to hold onto the ashes.
Or, as it turns out, Rachel wanted to.
The lump in my throat thickens as I turn my phone over in my hand and open the message I sent her, which glistens up at me through the mask of tears. A hot blend of guilt and anger rolls up me as I read the message again.
I shouldn’t have sent that to her, I shouldn’t have said that I don’t want to know her any more, but I couldn’t stop myself, and as I stare down at the message and blink at the two blue ticks, I can’t bring myself to take it back.
Grandma was ours; she was the only part of our family that we both agreed on and loved equally. How could Rachel keep her from me like this?
I’ve spent the past few days trying to work out what Rachel is hiding from me, but now I wish I had never bothered. She clearly doesn’t want to let me into her life, or be any more than sisters who send each other birthday cards and exchange small talk over Christmas. Why should I try and force us to be anything else if that’s not what she wants? I can’t make her let me in.
The taxi crunches over the gravel as we pull onto Fiona’s driveway and my heart starts thudding a different rhythm.
Fiona’s email to me wasn’t anything significant. She didn’t give anything away about whether she was going to offer me a promotion or fire me; she just asked that I see her when I’m back as she’d like to speak to me. I didn’t dare ask why; I just responded to say I’d be home tomorrow and I’d see her bright and early in the morning.
If she fires me, I don’t know where I’ll go. I can hardly go back to Wales. Not now.
I thank the driver and climb out of the taxi, swinging my bag over my shoulder as I duck into the rain. The only light glowing in Fiona’s house is in her bedroom, and as I start to wonder whether she’s seen me, she flings the window open and scowls at me through the rain. I hold up a hand to wave and see her face drop. Fiona has always been terrible at hiding her emotions.
House Swap Page 21
