Gloria didn’t know if Penny and Neil would mind. It wasn’t her business any more.
‘I’ll see what the others want to do, and you too, Gloria, of course. There’s no rush. We want you to stay on as long as you like. But if we set up on our own we’ll take on other staff. Non-family staff. I think it will be easier to expand that way. So much less complicated. And I want to cut back our hours a bit, too. Molly is a teenager, she’s going to need us around a bit more.’
Gloria blinked. Melissa was still making sense?
‘What do you think, Gloria? About all of it? I know you’ll need to think about it some more, your retirement especially, but in principle?’
‘I think it all sounds excellent. And I wish you well.’
‘Really? Do you mean that?’
Gloria thought about it. She thought about herself and Kevin, driving off somewhere. She nodded. ‘Yes, I really do.’
Ten feet away, lying in her bedroom, Molly Turner pushed the mobile phone back under her pillow. She was sure she wouldn’t hear back, but even sending the text to Lara had made her feel a little bit better. I wish you were here and I could talk to you. I miss you. Molly xxx
She looked at her bedside clock. She had slept for nearly thirteen hours, after crying for what felt as long as that too. It felt like she had done nothing but cry for days. Her whole body hurt from it. She had lain, curled in a ball, on top of the bedspread, as she’d always done when she was upset as a child. It hadn’t made the hurt go away, though. She was all alone and it was her own fault.
Dean hadn’t turned up to collect her. She had waited and waited, ringing his mobile number, but he hadn’t answered. She’d sent a text, and then another. She had been worried sick he’d had an accident. She had been about to ring the police, the hospitals, even her coach Mr Green in case he’d heard something, when her mobile phone had finally beeped. A text. She’d snatched it up.
Molly, I’m sorry. I’m not coming. It wld be wrong. D
She had rung him. The first time it had gone to voicemail. And the second. She kept ringing until he finally answered. She was in tears by then.
‘But why, Dean? I thought you loved me.’
She hardly heard his explanation. He should never have kept it from her, but the truth was he had another girlfriend in Melbourne. He’d met her at university and they’d lost contact but he’d run into her again six weeks ago and it had all started between them again. He thought Molly was beautiful, the time they’d had together would always be special to him, but he’d realised, especially in the last couple of days, that it would be better if they didn’t see each other any more.
His words weren’t making sense. ‘But you promised. That it would be so special. I was ready.’
He kept saying the same things. She was beautiful but she was so young, she’d find someone her own age in a few years, and—
She hung up on him midway through the excuses. She was angry at first. He hadn’t thought she was too young in the beginning. He hadn’t thought she was too young when he’d first made her fall in love with him. But then the anger went and the hurt and the tears came flooding over her. She glanced up and saw his photograph, saw him with his arm around her, and her stomach started to hurt. She knew it was childish but she reached up and tore the photo out of the frame, ripping it into little pieces and putting them in the bin. She thought it would make her feel better but it only made her feel worse. It was the only photo she had of him.
She had been crying for nearly ten minutes, curled on her bed, clutching her pillow to her, when her phone rang again. Her heart leapt when she saw the name on the display. It was him. He’d changed his mind.
‘Dean?’
He spoke quickly, in that same low tone, as though someone else was in the room or nearby. ‘I know you’re probably upset and you’ve got every right to be, Molly, and I’ll never be able to say sorry enough, I know. But I need you to promise me you won’t tell anyone about us, Molly. It wouldn’t do either of us any good if you did.’
She hung up on him once more. He didn’t call back again.
She’d stayed in her room since. She’d told her mother the swimming carnival had been cancelled. She hadn’t asked any more questions about it. Molly had wanted to talk about it, wanted to tell her, but she hadn’t known how to start. There was no one she could talk to about it. Not even Lara any more. She felt another wave of tears start to well inside her and bit her lip to try and stop them.
She had just turned out the light and climbed under the covers again when she heard a sound from under her pillow. Her phone. She lifted it to her ear and heard a strange echoing sound as though there was a time delay, or the call was coming from a long way away.
‘Hello?’ she said.
‘Mollusc? What’s up, sweetheart?’
It was Lara.
Harriet and Patrick ignored her mobile phone when it rang the first time, early the next morning. They had woken at dawn. She felt his arms come around her again, felt his lips on her forehead, her cheek, her lips. Their skin was warm, their bodies tangled. She felt his fingers caress her, the two of them skin against skin. It was different this time. It was gentle, deep lovemaking. There wasn’t the urgency. There was something richer.
They had talked so much. They had walked around Cork together, up steep hills, along the river. They had found a small restaurant, tucked into the back streets, and talked over dinner, over a bottle of wine. About Lara. And about other things. He spoke more about his life. He answered all her questions, describing Boston, his work, his house, his favourite restaurant, where he swam. Then he asked to see her list again, Gloria’s list. He went through it item by item, asking her questions. Making her laugh. Making her feel good. Cared for.
She didn’t know exactly what was happening between them, or what might happen beyond now. It didn’t seem to matter. She knew there would be time to talk about it.
Other things in her life felt different too, she realised. When she thought about her parents, about Lara, about the future, or the past, she didn’t get the jagged uneasy feeling she normally did. She felt calmer.
Her phone on the bedside table rang again. She couldn’t let it ring out a second time. She reached over to it, smiling at Patrick’s murmured protest. She didn’t recognise the number on the display. ‘Hello, Harriet speaking.’
‘Harriet, it’s Nina. I’m sorry to disturb you so early.’
She sat up abruptly. ‘Nina? Is everything all right?’
‘It’s fine. Well, nearly fine. I’ve just had a call from the All Creatures Great and Small people.’
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
‘Would you have any idea where they might find Mrs Kempton’s glasses?’
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Eight months later
Molly Turner smoothed down her black skirt and white shirt and looked around the Turner Travel office. It had been her idea to have the party here. She had blown up the balloons herself, and she and Harriet had moved all the desks back and decorated the staffroom so it looked all bright and cheery. About sixty people were there already and it was a bit crowded but it didn’t matter. It made sense that the party was here, as her dad had said. Gloria had spent more than thirty years working in these rooms, after all.
Molly picked up the tray and started moving through the room collecting empty glasses. As she dodged her way through groups of people, she looked up and saw that the ‘Good Luck in your Retirement, Gloria!’ banner had started to peel off the wall. She put down the tray and went out to get some more sticky tape. She’d spent days doing that banner and she didn’t want it to end up on the floor. It had already spent far too long in the cupboard as it was. She had almost been tempted to add the word ‘Finally!’ at the end when a confirmed date for the party was at last set. It must have been the longest run up to a retirement in history. Molly had worked it out that afternoon. It was almost eight months to the day since Gloria had said she was retiring.
Molly remembered the day clearly. It wasn’t only the day she heard that her mum and dad were going to start running Turner Travel on their own. It was also just after that awful time with Dean. Molly remembered feeling so sad, feeling so horrible and then, out of the blue, Lara had rung. Exactly when she’d needed her.
She had told Lara everything. Lara had been very, very upset. Not with Molly, but with Dean. Molly had been a bit shocked how mad she’d been, and how relieved Lara had been to hear that nothing too serious had happened between them, apart from the kissing in the car. ‘What he did was very wrong, Molly, do you see that?’ Lara had said. ‘He was out of line, as a man and as a teacher.’ She had listened to Molly saying that she had fallen in love with him, and that Dean had said he loved her, but she had stayed just as angry. ‘You should have told someone, Molly. Even if I wasn’t there. It felt wrong to you because it would have been wrong. If it ever happens again, anything like this, promise me you will tell someone.’ Molly had promised. It had made her feel so much better. It hadn’t been all her fault, after all.
Then Molly had asked Lara where she’d been the past week. They’d all been so worried, she told her. They had talked for a long time, Molly curled up on her bed, Lara in her flat in Bath. Lara had told Molly all she had found out, that horrible story about her parents. It had made Molly feel so sad and so strange. It had almost made her forget all the trouble with Dean. That hadn’t seemed so important compared to what Lara had been through. She had asked Lara what she was going to do now. Lara told her that she had decided to stay on in Bath. She was going to finish the course first, maybe have a bit of time off. She was going to call James and talk about it with him in the next few days. She had other things to tell him, too. She was thinking about resigning from Turner Travel. Trying something new. Maybe even starting her own travel agency. In England, not Australia.
Molly didn’t like hearing that. ‘Is it because of Grandma not telling you the truth? Does it make you feel funny about being part of the family now?’
Lara had been quiet for a little while. ‘It makes me think that perhaps I should try being on my own. Stay here. Be myself, Lara Robinson, not Lara, one of the Turner family, and see how that feels.’
It felt so good when Lara told her how she felt, and why. She always explained it really well. ‘I’ll really miss you.’
‘I’ll miss you too, Mollusc.’
‘I wish you were here now.’
‘I am there now. My voice is, anyway. You just can’t see me.’
She’d needed to talk about Dean some more. Lara seemed to understand. Afterwards she’d been really kind. ‘Just trust your instincts next time, Mollusc,’ she’d said. ‘You didn’t have to ask me. You just wanted me to tell you not to do it, didn’t you?’
She was right. ‘But how will I know when I meet the right person, Lara?’
‘I don’t know. I’m not very good at relationships. I always seem to send all my boyfriends away.’
Molly had thought about it. ‘That’s probably because of your parents. Because you saw them fighting all the time. That would make you feel a bit nervous you were going to do the same thing.’
Lara had gone silent. ‘You’re probably right,’ she’d said finally.
All sorts of things had changed on the surface since that day, but underneath none of it had, really. There had been a lot more talking lately. There’d even been a few family conferences about her mum and dad taking over the company and the amazing thing was she was invited in to listen. Everyone had thought it was a good idea. They would take it slowly, they decided. Everyone could stay on working there for as long or as short as they wanted. Lara hadn’t come to the meetings of course, but she’d sent emails and once they’d had a conference call with the phone in the middle of the table and Lara’s voice coming out of it. After she’d hung up, her dad and Austin and Harriet had all talked about Lara and her parents and they’d decided the real story was to stay within the family, that no one outside Gloria and Kevin needed to know.
Molly had felt a bit guilty admitting it to herself, and she hadn’t said it out loud, but she didn’t really see how knowing the truth changed anything much. As far as she could see, Lara had come to live with them because her parents had died, and that hadn’t changed.
She emailed Lara all the time now. She knew that Harriet did too. Sometimes Lara copied them both in on articles she thought they’d like, or a joke or just a little story about her life in Bath. It was much better than texting. Lara had her own office in the middle of Bath. She even had a website. She’d gone into business with one of the lecturers from the tourism college she’d attended. Brendan. He sounded really nice, Molly thought. He had a nice voice, anyway. When Molly had called Lara at her new flat in the centre of Bath at Christmas time, she’d been a bit surprised when Brendan answered. She’d been expecting it to be Nina, Lara’s old flatmate, if it was anyone. Molly had asked Lara in her next email if she was going out with Brendan but Lara had just written back to say he was there at the flat because she was having a Christmas party and he was her work colleague. But then a few weeks later Molly had rung again to say a quick hello and Brendan had answered again. She’d emailed Lara straightaway. Are you sure there’s nothing going on with you and Brendan?
Lara had emailed her back the next day to ask her, very nicely, to mind her own business.
She’d emailed back quickly. But if he’s going to be my uncle I should know.
Lara hadn’t answered that one. Molly knew that was Lara’s definite way of saying mind your own business.
Still, she had another new uncle to be going on with. Molly had tried to explain to her friends at school that Patrick used to be really famous but none of them had ever watched Willoughby. It was on at the same time as the Top 10 music videos show on another channel. Molly had watched one episode when Harriet first came back and told them all, just straight out, that something had happened between her and Patrick and she wanted them to hear it from her, not from anyone else who had been on the tour. Molly had found it hard not to laugh at the look on her mum and dad’s faces.
Patrick had come to visit a few weeks after that and everyone had really liked him. She’d heard her mum talking about him to her dad. She’d been going on about how good-looking he was, until her dad had said yes, he had eyes, she didn’t have to rub it in. And her mum had said, but he’s not my type, you’re my type. And they had actually kissed each other. Her parents! It was revolting.
Her mum was right, though. Patrick was old, sure, but he was good-looking. Molly had actually enjoyed Willoughby too. It was a bit old-fashioned and she thought it looked like the actors were having trouble trying not to laugh, but she thought Cornwall looked beautiful, with all the cliffs and the little harbour towns. She and Harriet had sat in the living room watching it together, a week before Patrick’s first visit. Mrs Lamerton had returned the videos that day and Molly had asked if she could take a look.
‘If he’s going to be my new uncle, I’d better be able to recognise him, don’t you think?’
Harriet had just laughed at her. They had watched from the very first episode, a dog and some cliffs, Patrick turning up in a small car, barely unpacking before he started solving crimes. Molly had paused the action so she could have a good look at him.
‘Does he still look like that now?’
‘No, he’s old with white hair.’
‘Really?’
‘No, Moll, I’m joking. He still looks just like that.’
He did, too. He was pretty yummy for an old guy. And he was mad about Harriet, anyone could see that. In the past eight months he’d been out to visit Harriet twice and she had spent a month in Boston. They talked on the phone all the time in between. Molly wondered how they found so much to talk about. Whatever it was, it must be funny. She always heard Harriet laughing on the phone whenever he rang. The latest bombshell was they were getting married and Harriet was going to go and live with him in Boston full-time. Harriet h
ad come to Molly and told her, woman to woman. She’d wanted her to know that if she had been organising a big wedding, then Molly would have been her bridesmaid, but she and Patrick had decided that they didn’t want a big wedding. Molly hadn’t minded at all, really. They were going to get married in Merryn Bay, on the beach. Secretly. And then when they got back from their honeymoon, they were inviting everyone over to Boston for a holiday. The whole family, Gloria and Kevin too.
Molly was really looking forward to it. Not just because Boston sounded great and Harriet had said she could spend a few days working with her in Patrick’s agency if she wanted, but because she figured it was the only way she was going to be able to get to know her new uncle. Each time he had come over to Australia and Merryn Bay to see Harriet, none of them had been able to get anywhere near him. They still didn’t know how word got around so quickly that he was in town.
It was happening again tonight, Molly could see. If Mrs Lamerton and Miss Talbot stood any closer to poor Patrick they’d knock him to the ground. Mrs Lamerton hadn’t let go of his arm since she’d come in and spotted him across the room. Miss Talbot was trying to get a word in, but she was having trouble.
Molly always had to stop herself from laughing every time she looked at Miss Talbot. She wore the funniest clothes. Tonight she was wearing a short tartan skirt she’d bought when she was in Scotland on that Monarch of the Glen tour. She also had a matching vest, apparently, but it was a bit warm tonight for that. Molly had heard her dad whisper something about Miss Talbot looking like an escapee from a Bay City Rollers convention, but Molly wasn’t too sure what that meant. Some band from the olden days, by the sound of things.
She checked the time. Ten to eight. Her dad had said he’d start the speeches at eight. Molly heard the door open and spun around. No, false alarm. It was only Austin and Nina. She had been out to Australia on holiday a few months before and had come down to Merryn Bay with him for a few days. This was her second visit and she was staying longer this time. Molly really liked Nina. She was like a kid in an adult’s body, always ready for fun.
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