‘It doesn’t matter if they offer us the crown jewels,’ she said. ‘We’re not selling. Are we, Frank?’
‘No, we are not. It’s the principle of it,’ he said to Sarah, as though he cared mostly what she thought of him.
Sarah threw Evie a questioning look. Evie shook her head.
‘It’s okay, Sarah. I’ve told them that I went to see Mr Andrews on Saturday.’
‘Oh, Mister Andrews now, is it?’ Mavis said, then she pinked up and apologised. Evie crossed the room and gave her a hug.
‘Come on, guys. No one’s died. It’s early days, like I said. This is just a formality.’ She plucked the letter out of her gran’s hand and on impulse thrust it into the fire. ‘There. That’s what we think of their offer. Right?’
Mavis beamed and hugged Evie so hard she felt her back click. Sarah also threw her letter into the grate, and the four of them cheered.
‘I’m going to go and tell the others what we’ve done with their sodding letters,’ Mavis said, grabbing her silver anorak off the peg by the front door. ‘See if they want to come round and do the same.’
‘A ritual burning,’ Evie said, laughing. ‘How very medieval.’
Sarah left with Mavis. Frank sank into his favourite chair and looked up at Evie. ‘You do believe we’re doing the right thing, don’t you, love? Fighting it and all?’
‘Gramps, of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?’
He patted the footstool next to him and Evie sat, feeling a bit like a pixie perching on a toadstool. He said, ‘I’m going to be eighty in two weeks. Your gran isn’t getting any younger. We’re too old to move, but still. I heard what you said this morning about living somewhere warmer and safer and easier to manage …’
‘You were listening? Why didn’t you say anything?’
‘I’m saying it now.’ His tone was mild. He raised an eyebrow and smiled a grim sort of smile. Evie calmed herself and pulled a face.
‘Sorry. I mean, sorry for flying off the handle, but also sorry for what I said earlier. I didn’t mean it. I was just thinking out loud.’
Frank picked up the poker and jabbed at the fire. It gave out a burst of sparks and roared into life. He stared into the flames. Evie had so many memories of him like this – not staring into the fire specifically, but sitting silently and shut down with that exact expression on his face: pensive, troubled.
‘Is Gran okay?’ she said.
Frank started and looked across at her as though he’d forgotten she was there. ‘Gran? Of course. Well, apart from all this.’
Evie nodded. ‘It’s just, I found her down here this morning. That’s why you heard us talking. She was …’ What to say? Talking to herself? Talking about a brother my mother never had? ‘She didn’t seem quite herself.’
Frank turned back to the fire. ‘She’s got a lot on her mind, Evie. We all have. Sometimes you just have to get on with it,’ he said enigmatically. ‘Sometimes it’s best not to ask.’
*
‘I thought you were on holiday. Are you missing us already?’
Evie laughed and swapped the phone to her other ear. She’d waited ten minutes for Harry to be free to come to the phone, but it was worth it. He always made her laugh, was the only one of the senior partners to possess a sense of humour, in fact.
‘I’m missing being shouted at, being given too much work to do, and having to look at your miserable face,’ she told him, and he snorted with laughter on the other end of the line.
He asked after her grandparents, and Evie asked after his grandkids, then she got down to business. ‘I need a favour,’ she said, tapping her fingers nervously on the bedside table.
‘Okay. Shoot.’
‘I need you to look into a planning application. It’s in Bristol.’ She outlined the plans for Cupid’s Way and filled Harry in on everything except her own involvement with Dynamite Construction’s CEO. She figured that was on a need-to-know basis, and Harry Lee certainly didn’t.
His response only confirmed her fears.
‘I don’t like the sound of that, Evie. It doesn’t ring true to me.’
‘You think the medical centre is a smokescreen? Like they might not be planning to build that at all?’
She could hear him shuffling papers. Harry’s desk was always a complete mess. ‘Not necessarily. I mean, they might be planning to build it, but there has to be more in it for them than what the council are likely to be paying for it.’
‘That’s what I’ve been thinking,’ she said, a jolt of excitement running through her stomach. ‘To buy out all the residents, give them new housing, and deal with the fallout from something so controversial ...’
‘It’s going to cost more than a mere medical centre is worth,’ Harry said. ‘In more ways than one.’
‘So what do you think?’
‘Honestly, I’ve no idea.’
‘Do you think you could find out?’
‘I can try. Give me the name of the councillor again?’
Evie did, and then she listened while Harry reeled off the names of some of his contacts. None of them rang a bell, which was why it was great to have Harry on her side and looking into to it for her.
‘You are a star,’ she told him.
‘A shining light in a sea of darkness,’ he agreed. The line went quiet for a moment, then Harry said, ‘Evie, do you have any ideas about how to fight this?’
She admitted that she didn’t. ‘Do you?’
‘You could go down the conservation route – apply for listed building status.’
‘Of course!’ Evie slapped her forehead. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.’
‘It’s right up your street. If you’ll pardon the pun.’
Evie laughed. ‘Thanks, Harry. Let me know what you find.’ She said goodbye and ended the call, then sat on the lumpy bed thinking it through. But she was too excited to sit for long.
‘Gran,’ she called as she raced down the stairs, ‘I’m going out for a walk.’
She grabbed her raincoat and opened the door. And walked straight into Eloise Peacock.
‘Evie, I was just about to knock for you.’
As though they were still eight years old and Eloise wanted her to come to the playground at the end of the street. Evie grinned and pulled the door closed behind her. She started walking down the cobbled path that ran the length of Cupid’s Way, too wired to stand still but also too cold. Eloise was wearing white jeans and a silver quilted jacket that made her face look tanned and glowing.
‘What’s up?’ Evie said, ramming her hands in her pockets to keep them warm. She slowed her pace to match Eloise’s saunter and tipped her face up to the valiant sun.
‘Just fancied a chat,’ Eloise said. ‘I get so bored when the boys are at school. You’d go stir crazy in that flat of mine.’
Evie wondered how someone as gorgeous as Eloise managed to end up living in a council flat and looking after two kids on her own. She didn’t feel able to ask. Underneath her childhood friend’s apparent warmth there was something closed off; her smile had a kind of glittery edge to it, like something painted on by an expert.
They walked past Bob and Freda’s house, and Eloise rolled her mascaraed eyes. ‘Honestly, my dad is driving me insane. He’s started this video diary, says he’s going to sell it to the newspapers when the street gets demolished. You should see the video recorder, Evie. It looks like he robbed it off a war reporter.’
‘He probably did,’ Evie said, and Eloise roared with laughter. Evie smiled. She wasn’t sure her comment had been that funny.
They reached the gate at the end of the path, which was hanging on by one hinge. Evie yanked it open and exited onto the same bit of road where she’d last seen Bob Peacock and the terrifying shire horse.
‘Your dad is a bit eccentric,’ Evie said, and she told Eloise about the episode with the horse and cart.
‘Oh, that’s Madge. Dad borrows her from a farmer out towards Long Ashton. He’s got this sort of rag an
d bone man gig going on, you know? Goes around the new housing estates taking away people’s rubbish for free. He’s got an eye for rubbish.’ She said this without a hint of irony, but Evie saw the twinkle in her eye.
‘He’s a character, that’s for sure,’ she agreed.
She wondered whether she should ask Eloise about her dad’s intentions regarding selling out to Dynamite Construction. She remembered how he and his clan had crowded around Michael on the day of the community centre meeting, and wondered whether this was who Michael had been referring to when he’d said some of the residents had approached him. But then Eloise starting rattling on about her dad’s new camera again and the moment passed.
As though following some latent memory which had embedded itself into their feet, they arrived at the playground and each chose a swing to sit on. The playground was as run down as the rest of the older buildings, and once again Evie marvelled at the contrast of the sparkling modern tower blocks and pristine housing boxes set against Cupid’s Way and the remnants of her childhood that still hung on by a fingernail.
Eloise walked her feet back on the spongy tarmac and then lifted them off the ground. She swung forward and laughed. ‘This feels great. I can’t remember the last time I did this.’ She was wearing silver sandals as though unaware it was the last week of February and freezing cold.
Evie joined in. Her legs were shorter, which meant the child’s swing was a better fit. In no time at all she had a rhythm going: legs out, knees bent, legs out, knees bent. It felt amazing.
‘Wheee!’ she called in delight, swinging high above Eloise. ‘Hey, I can see your house from up here.’
‘It’s not my house anymore,’ Eloise reminded her.
‘If you really miss living in Cupid’s Way, why don’t you move back?’ Evie’s words came in waves as she swung up and down.
Eloise had stopped swinging and had her feet firmly planted on the ground. ‘Mum and Dad drive me mental,’ she said with a shrug. ‘Simple as.’
Reluctantly, Evie came to a halt and tipped her swing seat around to face Eloise. ‘I know what you mean. My mum? The best thing she ever did for me was move to Canada. At least now we can’t annoy each other all the time.’
‘I remember being so envious of you because of your mum,’ Eloise said. ‘I thought she was so cool.’
‘You did?’
Eloise nodded, her chestnut hair bobbing around her shoulders. ‘Defo! She was like this totally free spirit, and you had all this freedom to do what the hell you wanted.’
What I wanted, Evie thought, was a normal family. A dad and a mum who loved each other and me, and who nagged at me to be home on time and to do my homework and not to wear my skirts too short.
‘What happened to your dad, anyway?’ Eloise asked.
‘He disappeared.’
‘Like, ran away?’
‘No. Not like that.’ Evie took in a breath, suddenly aware of a tightness in her chest. It shouldn’t have been a surprise: she always felt like this when she talked about her father. It was just a really long time since she had.
‘He was a Greenpeace activist,’ she told Eloise. ‘He disappeared after the sinking of the Rainbow Warrior. My mum never said much else other than that. From what I’ve been able to piece together, I think he had to sort of “go to ground”. He might have been in trouble.’
‘What’s the Rainbow Warrior?’
‘It was a ship owned by Greenpeace,’ Evie said, the words causing a familiar ache in her chest. ‘It was sunk in a harbour in New Zealand just after I was born. My mum never saw my father again.’
‘Did anyone die?’ Eloise’s eyes were wide with wonder.
‘One man died, but it wasn’t my father. He was a Portuguese photographer.’
‘But your dad disappeared?’
Evie nodded. She found she couldn’t speak at that precise moment.
‘Wow. That is so … It’s just really out there, isn’t it? You never told me any of this when we were kids. And I was your best friend.’
Evie blinked and turned to look at Eloise. She thought: My best friend? Were you? She had no memory of ever agreeing to that.
‘Anyway,’ she said vaguely, giving the universal signal of wanting to change the subject. Thankfully, Eloise was well versed in subtlety. She jumped off her swing and wrapped her silver jacket around her slim frame.
‘Let’s go for coffee,’ she said, holding out her hand for Evie the way she always had. Eloise the instigator. The one in control. ‘They’re on me.’
Evie smiled and nodded, but she kept her hands in her pockets. The way she always had.
Chapter 11
Five years ago in Cupid’s Way, a space the size of two individual gardens had been cleared and turned into an allotment. It happened to be outside the renters’ house – Evie imagined that the residents had felt a certain satisfaction in reclaiming a piece of the communal gardens from the one part of the street that was owned by an “outsider”. When she’d woken that morning and heard Pip and Cissy digging across from her window, she’d seen her opportunity to find out more about who exactly this outsider might be. If Michael was trying to track them down, it would be a coup if Evie could get there first.
Which was why she was now kneeling in three inches of mud, wearing her gran’s flowery red wellies and holding a garden fork in her gloved hand.
‘Sort of turn it,’ Cissy told her, demonstrating with her own wan-looking fingers. ‘Like this.’
Evie tried again. The earth smelled like nothing she could describe, alive and rotten both at the same time. It reminded her of a memory, but not a memory she could recall. Perhaps in a former life she’d lived off the land. She laughed to herself and Cissy looked over and smiled.
‘It’s wonderful, isn’t it? We just love being able to get involved in this. You know, where we lived before there was a six-year waiting list for an allotment. Six years! Then we move in here and find there’s an allotment right outside our front door.’
‘What sort of stuff do you grow?’ Evie watched Pip struggle with a bag of compost, dragging it along the ground like a stubborn child. He looked like he could do with a hand.
‘Oh, everything and anything. Carrots, parsnips, potatoes. Salad veg, herbs, that kind of thing. We’re going to sow some peas and broad beans here – it’s the first time we’ll have had them.’
It wasn’t hard to find evidence of Cissy and Pip’s involvement in the allotment. Homemade paper windmills stood on canes and hung off the branches of an apple tree, and the remnants of ragged bunting were strung from the wall of their house to the top of a tall willow obelisk.
‘You really love living here, don’t you?’ Evie said, trying again to turn over the ground the way Cissy had shown her.
‘It’s awesome. It’s like we were meant to find this place. Like it’s our destiny.’ Cissy’s voice was sincere and solemn. Evie heard a sniff and looked up in time to see Pip wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his grubby jacket.
Cissy said, ‘Pip is really struggling with the thought that we might have to move on again. But I’m positive it won’t come to that. I keep telling him not to be so negative – negative energy can really infect a place, you know? But he’s never had my ability to stare adversity in the face. Pip’s strengths lie in other areas.’
Evidently not in the moving of heavy bags of soil, Evie thought.
‘I wish I had your faith,’ she said, sitting back on her heels. ‘Do you know if your landlords will sell?’
Cissy and Pip both answered at once.
‘They won’t sell,’ Cissy said.
‘We’ve no idea,’ said Pip. He tugged at the corner of the bag, but his hand slipped and the whole thing fell backwards onto his foot.
‘Sweetie, remember your blood pressure.’ Cissy had to speak loudly to be heard over the top of Pip swearing. He clamped his mouth closed and did a mock salute, then flopped down onto a rusty garden chair.
Privately, Evie thought the only blood press
ure Pip had to worry about was whether any blood pumped around his veins at all. He was so pale and thin, and clearly worn out by the morning’s activities. She suggested they stop for a cup of tea, and Cissy jumped up, full of beans.
‘Great idea! I’ll put the kettle on.’
Evie carried on turning over the earth, enjoying the silence and the feeling of sun on her face. It had been raining all week, and the trips she’d managed to drag Mavis and Frank on had been disappointing. No one could summon up the energy to inject some enthusiasm into a visit to Bath, a shopping expedition to the local outlet village, a trip to the seaside. And was there anything more depressing than a seaside town in the rain in February? Not in Evie’s opinion.
Pip had his eyes closed, and Evie felt a sudden sympathy for him. He was so “other”, such a different type of man to any she’d ever met, and she knew she would never understand what made him attractive to someone like vivacious, bubbly Cissy. But she had a sense that if she could understand it – if she could just open her eyes and see what the rest of the world apparently saw in all those normal, unexciting, caring-sharing sort of men – she might actually be able to have a decent relationship herself.
As an act of kindness, she grabbed the bag of compost, dragged it back to the patch of earth she and Cissy had been working on and laid it in position. It wasn’t actually all that heavy. But then, Evie had always been strong for her size. She smoothed her filthy hands down the legs of her jeans, smiling to herself. She looked up and saw Pip staring at her.
‘Oh. You’re awake. Sorry, I just … Well.’ Evie’s cheeks reddened and she dropped back down to her knees and picked up the fork. She glanced back at him out of the corner of her eye. He was gazing at the bag of compost resignedly.
He said, ‘Thanks. I guess.’
Evie waved her hands, scattering soil all over the cobbled path. ‘I only moved it an inch or so. It was almost there already.’
‘It’s okay. I’m not into all that macho, men must be the stronger sex stuff.’
Except you are, thought Evie. You are really. I saw it in your eyes. But it wasn’t anything to do with her, and all at once she felt tired at the thought of all the complicated layers in a relationship, how people pretend to be what they’re not to keep other people happy, how people get fixed in their roles and won’t – or can’t – move on. She was no different. She was certainly no better.
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