by Helen Mcginn
Most of all, she thought of how they’d always been so happy in each other’s company. When the children had grown up and moved away, it had felt like they had a whole second act to enjoy together.
So why had Robin decided to throw years of marriage away for someone else? Kate had to know. She stood up and went to boil the kettle again, taking two fresh cups of tea up the stairs.
The phone rang, waking Denise from her sleep. Or rather, from her nightmare. In it, she could see Stephen, but she couldn’t hear him. He’d been in a room, at the end of a long corridor, calling to her.
She sat up in bed and switched on the light, then reached for the phone.
‘Hello, Mrs Hirst?’
‘Speaking.’
‘I’m sorry to ring so early. It’s Mr Sawyer.’
‘Oh, hello, Mr Sawyer. Is everything all right?’ Her heart was immediately hammering in her chest. ‘Has something happened to Stephen?’
‘No, no. It’s good news, actually. Which is why I’m ringing you this early. I thought you’d want to know as soon as possible. We’ve got a hearing date for the appeal. It looks like we’ll be able to get Stephen out of there sooner than we thought. He’ll still be there a for a while but hopefully not quite as long.’
Denise put her hand to her mouth. She almost didn’t dare believe what she was hearing. She took a breath then spoke as calmly as she could. ‘When will you be able to tell him?’
‘As soon as I can, I will. I’ll make an appointment to go and see him. And I’ll keep you informed as soon as I have any more news.’
‘I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Mr Sawyer.’
She felt elated and exhausted all at the same time. All of her letters to Stephen had gone unanswered. None of her phone calls had been returned. She’d seen him only once since he’d been sent to prison; he’d refused to see her after that. They’d sat opposite one another in the large visiting room, Denise desperately trying not to show how horrified she was at his appearance, how horrified she was at the surroundings.
In turn, he’d barely said a word to his mother at that meeting, turning his head to one side to hide a violet bruise on his cheekbone. His knee hadn’t stopped moving up and down and his knuckles were scratched raw. He had looked so vulnerable to his mother and all her instincts screamed to get him out of there. But there was nothing she could do except try to reassure him he wouldn’t be there for evermore, encourage him to keep his head down and do as he was told. Most of all, she had tried to remind him that she loved him and would be there waiting for him when he came home.
Denise put the phone back down and sat up. She put on her slippers and went to make herself some tea. There, on the table where she’d left it, was the letter that had arrived the day before, a small white envelope with her name in handwriting she hadn’t recognised on the front. She took her cup to the table by the window, opened the envelope and took the letter out to read it again.
Dear Mrs Hirst,
My name is Flora. Billy Fraser was my brother. I’m sorry if this letter comes as a shock to you, I honestly don’t mean it to, but I’m wondering if you might be able to help me.
I’m trying to come to terms with Billy’s death. I loved him so much and miss him terribly, every single day. I know I can’t change what’s happened, much as I wish I could. But daring to think like that only makes it more painful.
I’m hoping that talking to you might help me move forward just a little. It’s not that I’m expecting you to say anything to make things better. In fact, I don’t really know what I’m hoping for, but I think I saw you in the churchyard a while ago. And it made me think that things can’t have been easy for you either.
Anyway, please don’t feel you have to reply but if you ever do think you might be able to meet me, let me know at the address above.
Yours sincerely,
Flora Harper
PS. I hope you don’t mind me finding out your address. I promise I won’t write again.
Denise sat and looked at the letter for a while with shaking hands, reading the whole thing over once more, then she folded it and put it back on the table. All this time she’d thought the woman she’d seen at the graveyard couldn’t possibly have known who she was. She’d felt guilty for being there, almost as if she was invading the other family’s space, their own private grief. But something had made her want to go. And she had known she couldn’t move on until she did. Deep down, Denise knew she owed it to the woman to agree to meet her.
Tilda sidled up to Flora in the playground. ‘Have you written the letter yet?’
‘Yes, a few days ago, actually. She’ll have received it by now. I’ve not heard anything, and I probably won’t, but at least it’s done. And I feel better just for doing it.’ Flora had been trying not to think about it too much, but her heart had jumped when she’d heard the postman that morning. ‘I sort of don’t want to know how you do it but you’re very good at online stalking.’ Flora raised her eyebrows at Tilda.
‘I should do it professionally, really.’ Tilda laughed, then looked round and leaned into Flora. She lowered her voice. ‘I’ve also found out some other stuff, about someone else, but I can’t tell you what yet.’
‘Oh, come ON, you can’t do that!’ Flora laughed. ‘Who’s it about?’
‘No, I’m sworn to secrecy. But you’ll find out soon enough.’ Tilda pretended to zip her mouth.
‘You’re terrible, Tilda.’ Flora gently prodded her friend on the arm.
‘Thank you.’ Tilda beamed.
‘That’s not a compliment, believe it or not. Right, where are those kids? I’ve got to get them sorted: gymnastics tonight.’ Flora rolled her eyes.
‘Lucky you. I’ve got two hours by the side of a football pitch and it’s bloody freezing.’
The children ran out of school and across the playground like animals being let out of a zoo.
‘Hi, Mum!’ Pip ran towards Flora, a great plastic model in tow.
‘Wow, what’s that?’ Flora tried to look enthusiastic.
‘The Eiffel Tower!’ Pip tried to hold it upright, the weight of the plastic bottles making it collapse on its side.
Flora looked again. ‘Oh, yes, of course it is. How brilliant!’
‘Look what I’ve got!’ Tom pulled at Flora’s coat on the other side. He held a tiny eggshell cupped very gently in one hand.
‘Oh, look at that. Where did you find it?’
Tom looked serious. ‘I found it near the bushes over there at break time. I thought it meant the bird had died but Miss Scott told me it just means it hatched and flew away, probably a long time ago. And it’ll be having a lovely time by now, flying about high in the air.’
Flora gently stroked Tom’s hair. ‘I think she’s absolutely right. Come on, let’s get you home so we can get food inside you all before we take Pip to gymnastics.’
‘Oh, no, please, not gymnastics,’ Tom wailed. ‘It’s so boring.’
‘Well, maybe it’s not so much fun to watch, but I keep telling you to give it a go. I think you’ll love it. Think how high you bounce on that trampoline at home. The ones at gymnastics are bigger and better and way, way bouncier.’
‘But gymnastics is for girls.’
‘Says who?’ Flora looked at her boy, cheeks pink with cold.
‘I don’t know. It just is.’
‘Rubbish. Gymnastics takes real skill and determination, not to mention strength.’
‘Can you win money doing it?’
Flora laughed. ‘Well, I’m sure you can but I don’t think that’s the point. Why, is that a deal-breaker for you?’
‘Well, if I can make money doing it then I can go on holiday to Venice, too.’ He looked at her solemnly.
‘Oh, I see. You’re still cross we didn’t take you to Venice.’ She laughed. ‘In that case, yes, you can win money if you’re really, really good at it.’
‘I’ll think about it, then.’ Tom nodded thoughtfully.
34
�
�There you go, Mrs Russell. I think you’ll love that one, I know how you like your Gavi.’ Mack wrapped the bottle in tissue paper.
‘Oh, I do, Mack. Reminds me of holidays many years ago.’
‘And isn’t that one of the best things about wine? Even on a chilly day like today it can take you to sunny places.’ Mack put the bottle carefully into a bag. ‘Thank you. See you next week?’
‘Yes, I’m sure I’ll need topping up before Christmas. Bye!’
Mack waved. Mrs Russell had always been one of his favourite customers, not least because of her fairly expensive taste for good Italian wines. He called out to the back of the shop, where Flora was busy packing up orders to go out later that day. Johnny was already out and about making deliveries to local restaurants. Business had really picked up over the last month as people geared up for the festive season. Everyone seemed to be in the mood to celebrate a little more than usual.
‘Hey, Mack. All well?’ Flora’s flushed face appeared at the door.
‘All good, Flora. That was Mrs Russell, she’d come in for more Gavi. Do you need a hand?’
‘No, I’m nearly done, thanks. We’re shifting a lot of wine this week. I think preparing those mixed festive cases was a great idea. People don’t even have to think about it.’
‘Yes, they’ve been a success. And how’s the take-up been for the wine courses?’
‘Pretty good, actually. We should be able to run a full four-week block in the new year. I’ve roped in a couple of my friends for the first one but hopefully once word spreads, I won’t have to rely on them every time.’ Flora smiled at the thought of Tilda’s face when she’d reassured her she wouldn’t have to spit the wine out if she didn’t want to. Flora pushed her hair back from her face and put her hands on her hips, packing tape in one hand, scissors in the other. ‘It really does look brilliant, you know.’ Strings of tiny lights hung across the ceiling and down the sides of the shelves, and the window display was a wonder, boxes of wine peeping out of a giant fake snowdrift. She had mentioned the idea almost as a joke, but in no time Johnny had located a source of fake snow from a company that made it for film locations. Biodegradable, of course. Flora and Mack had overruled the request for an inflatable reindeer, much to Johnny’s dismay.
‘Are you back here after deliveries?’
‘Yes, I’ll pop back but I won’t be in tomorrow, if that’s OK? Johnny will be, obviously.’
‘No problem.’ Mack took a sip of his coffee.
She felt she owed him an explanation. ‘I’m going to meet someone, actually. The mother of the boy who… well, the one who’s in prison.’
Mack looked at her over his glasses. ‘Right.’
‘It’s just that I saw her a while ago, from a distance. And she looked so sad. I don’t quite know why, but I just feel a need to talk to her. Her son’s in prison still, but I’m meeting her tomorrow near where she lives.’
Mack put his cup of coffee down on the counter. ‘Flora, you know she might not give you the answers you’re looking for.’
‘I know, and I’m not looking for answers really. I just want to understand things a bit more. Maybe.’
‘Flora, I say this as someone who knows, so please take it as I mean it. Bad things happen and unfortunately, especially for people like us, who’ve lost people we love too early, some things can never be explained.’
Flora sat down on the stool by the tasting counter. She closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Mack, can I ask what happened to Jamie? I keep wondering why we’ve never talked about it. Is it still too painful?’
There was a pause. ‘Leukaemia. Acute myeloid leukaemia, to be precise, which is very rare but, sadly for Jamie, incurable back in those days. It came on so quickly, we hadn’t really noticed anything other than him feeling more tired than usual. By the time it was discovered, there wasn’t much we could do about it. It was just a question of time.’
‘Oh, Mack, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.’
‘Don’t apologise; I didn’t tell you. I haven’t really talked about it much since Elizabeth died. It took us a long time to learn to live with it. He was so young.’ Mack sighed. ‘But it’s a question of accepting it rather than trying to understand it.’ He shook his head. ‘I spent years making that mistake.’
‘I know what you’re saying makes sense, but it doesn’t make it any easier.’
‘It won’t, not yet, anyway. You don’t wake up and suddenly everything has fallen into place. But one day, if you want it to, it’ll find you.’
‘What will?’
‘Forgiveness.’
‘Mack, I can’t forgive what happened to Billy. That boy killed him. I don’t see how I can ever forgive that.’ Flora’s voice shook slightly.
‘You don’t have to forgive anything if you don’t want to. But forgiveness isn’t the same as permission.’
‘You know, when we were in Venice, I was lighting a candle for Billy, and a woman standing next to me was lighting one for her brother. And she said hearts stay broken.’
Mack nodded his head. ‘I think she’s right. But you learn to live with it.’
‘Yes, she said it gets easier to bear. I can hear her saying now. So, do you think meeting his mother is a mistake?’
‘Not if that’s what you want to do, no.’
Flora thought about it for a moment, then drained her cup. ‘I think I want to go.’
‘Then go.’ Mack shooed her away with his hand, smiling.
She stood and went to grab her coat. ‘Thanks, Mack, I’ll see you later.’
‘Yes, see you later.’ The bell tinkled as she left the shop. Mack found it heart-breaking watching Flora searching for something to ease the pain. But he knew, more than most, there was little he or anyone could do to help. It was just a matter of giving it time.
Susie sat alone on the bench, watching the children as they clambered over climbing frames and flew as high as they possibly could on swings in the adventure playground. ‘Mummy, Mummy, watch!’ came the cry, seemingly every five seconds.
‘Hello, you.’ Tilda grinned as she swiftly took a seat beside Susie. ‘Go on, kids! Snacks after.’ She shooed her own children away. ‘So, you want the good news or the bad news first?’
Susie braced herself. ‘Bad.’
‘OK, well – and I think you already knew this, Suse – he’s definitely up to no good.’ Tilda put her hand on Susie’s arm. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Susie sat up straight, breathing what sounded more like a sigh of relief than one of shock. ‘And the good news?’ Susie fixed Tilda with her enormous eyes, her dark hair pulled back into its usual sleek ponytail.
Tilda pulled out her phone from her bag. ‘Turns out he’s been very sloppy about covering his tracks.’ Tilda couldn’t help but smile at this, a glint in her eye. ‘Susie, if you needed evidence, it’s all here.’ Tilda pointed at her phone. She tapped the screen a few times, then swiped and tapped some more. She held the screen so Susie could see it. ‘There.’
Susie squinted at the screen. ‘May I?’ She took it from Tilda to get a good look. ‘Oh my God, I knew it. His old fucking girlfriend.’ She started laughing.
‘I’m not sure what reaction I was expecting, Susie, but it definitely wasn’t laughter.’
‘I’m sorry, but I should have known it would be her. He’s far too lazy to actually put in any effort to find someone new.’ Susie tapped at the screen again. ‘Wow, she hasn’t changed much.’ Susie looked at the familiar features of her husband’s old university friend. She’d even met her a few times, first at their wedding, then over the years at various landmark birthday parties. ‘I never liked her.’
‘Susie, I’m so sorry, but you did ask me to.’
‘Please don’t apologise. You did exactly as I asked. I don’t even have a Facebook account any more so there wasn’t a hope of me ever finding this stuff out. So how did you know?’
‘Well, she goes on and on about being single, in a “lady doth protest too much” kind of way. Th
en I looked at her photos and sure enough, she’s been in all the same restaurants as the ones he’s been in on the dates you told me. Luckily, her serial posting addiction worked in our favour. And if you look at this photo, where she’s taken a selfie…’ Tilda scrolled to find the offending photo, ‘you can see there’s a hand on her thigh.’ She zoomed in on the photo.
There, quite clearly, was a pudgy hand resting high up on the smiling woman’s thigh. Susie got closer to the screen. ‘He didn’t even bother to take his wedding ring off.’
‘You sure you’re OK?’ Tilda put her phone back in her bag.
‘Well, it’s hardly a surprise. I just hadn’t envisaged being a divorcee.’
‘You mean that’s it? No second chances?’
Susie smiled with relief. ‘No second chances. This is my ticket out.’
35
Flora had arrived early, not wanting to risk getting lost or stuck in traffic. It was still over half an hour until the agreed meeting time. She found a quiet table at the back of the café suggested by Denise, ordered a pot of tea and a toasted teacake and went to the table with her tray.
The café was busy with people coming and going, the constant buzz of conversation meaning that individual ones couldn’t be heard. Thank goodness, thought Flora.
She’d parked not far away, walking through the streets of the unfamiliar town, Christmas lights twinkling overhead and in shop windows. The high street was busy with shoppers carrying bulging bags, the sound of a brass band in the air. But now, sitting here, a teacake she suddenly had no appetite for in front of her, Flora wondered what on earth she was doing. What had made her think that meeting this woman would make any difference to how she felt about losing her brother? Flora looked at her watch. Fifteen minutes until the meeting time. She still had time to make a run for the door and forget the whole thing, if she was quick. She put her arms back into her coat and reached down, looking for her bag on the floor.