Mia Wells looked across the table of the restaurant at her aunt and smiled. She was so like her mum and yet, at the same time, so very different. This thought seemed to bob to the surface every time she found herself alone with her, like an obstacle to them getting along: a constant reminder her mum wasn’t there.
Maybe this was why she’d found it easier to click with her uncle so far, even though he was around a lot less and was generally less chatty. There was also the fact that, until recently, Hannah and her mum hadn’t spoken for such a long time. Mia had no idea what had gone on between them. Her mum had refused to say. But it must have been something pretty major to last all these years – and for this reason part of her felt like getting too close would be a betrayal.
Her mum had specifically told her not to think this way, mind. ‘Don’t you worry about what went on between us,’ she’d said in the car on the way up to Manchester from Bournemouth. ‘It’s ancient history and not something you should think about.’
‘But I don’t know her,’ Mia had replied. ‘She’s never even sent me a birthday or Christmas present. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have an aunt.’
‘That’s not fair,’ her mum had retaliated, much to Mia’s surprise. It was the first time she’d ever heard her defend her sister. ‘Hannah and Mark both spent a lot of time with you when you were little. I’m the one who ended that by moving away and cutting off all ties with them. They don’t even know where we live to send you a present.’
‘Well, Grandad does. They could have gone via him, couldn’t they?’
‘No, they couldn’t actually. He’s always refused to get involved or to be any kind of middleman. He’s so determined to stay neutral, he avoids even talking about either of us to the other.’
Remembering this conversation, Mia realised she really ought to give her aunt more of a chance. Since she’d been in Manchester – effectively thrust upon her without warning – Hannah had shown her nothing but kindness and hospitality. She’d even helped her to find a friend around her own age in Todd. This evening, with Mark away down south, she’d offered to take Mia out for tea at a restaurant of her choice in the city centre.
She’d picked a burger place in the Northern Quarter that Todd had mentioned eating at once on a previous visit. Hannah hadn’t looked particularly thrilled at this outcome, but she’d gone along with it nonetheless and now here they were, each staring at a menu, trying to make up their minds what to eat.
‘So what are you going to have, Mia?’ Hannah asked her. ‘There’s certainly a good choice of burgers, isn’t there?’
‘There are other things too, on the back of the menu,’ Mia replied, pointing her aunt in the right direction. ‘You know, if a burger isn’t your thing. But I think I’ll go for one with cheese and bacon.’
After the waiter had taken their order, with Hannah opting for fish and chips, Mia felt her mobile vibrate in her pocket. She almost reached for it, keen to see who was contacting her, but managed to resist, adhering to her aunt’s rule of no mobiles at the table. The last thing she wanted was to have it confiscated again, as her mum had done on the way up here when she’d answered her back one too many times, sulking about being taken away from her friends back home.
But now she wondered if the message actually was from her mother, perhaps in response to Mark’s visit. It wouldn’t be before time, if so. She’d barely been in touch at all since leaving her here alone so unexpectedly. Mia hadn’t heard a peep from her since that one brief phone call last week. She had ‘really important things to sort out’ apparently, whatever that meant. It was all very weird – not least the part about her staying with her estranged aunt and uncle. But Mia preferred not to think about it, because doing so only made her anxious. She’d been there, done that too many times already over the past week or so. It led to her coming up with all kinds of scary potential explanations – and she didn’t want to go there any more.
Her mum, who’d uncharacteristically burst into tears when they’d first spoken about it in private, had made it abundantly clear she didn’t want to share the details with her daughter. She obviously had her reasons for this. From what Mia had gathered during her time with them so far, Hannah and Mark were similarly in the dark.
As much as she wanted to get home to her friends, her bedroom and all her stuff, Mia now figured the best thing she could do was bide her time here until her mum had got herself sorted. For a while, mainly at the beginning of her stay in Manchester, she had secretly been considering running back home. The desire to do so had been particularly strong during Diane’s initial period of silence, before she’d eventually phoned her and apologised for not being in touch sooner.
Even after that, Mia hadn’t ruled out heading home under her own steam, largely due to worrying about her mum and feeling lonely. That first time she’d gone to Central Library alone, she’d even made a detour to the bus and train stations in order to familiarise herself with them just in case. The money her mum had put into her bank account could fund a ticket if necessary. However, she’d knocked this plan on the head, at least for the time being, after finding a friend in Todd and learning of her uncle’s own trip down to Bournemouth to check on Diane.
‘Have you heard anything from, er, Mark?’ she asked, stirring the straw in her lemonade so the ice made a clinking sound in her glass. She was glad her aunt and uncle had told her to call them by their first names, but it still felt a bit unnatural, particularly having known them for such a short time. At school she was used to having to call her teachers ‘Sir’ and ‘Miss’. The only other adults she tended to call by their first names were far more familiar, such as parents of her close friends.
Hannah shook her head as she took a sip from her glass of white wine. ‘No,’ she replied with a satellite delay. ‘Not yet. I’m sure he’ll call later on, though. He should be in Bournemouth by now. Hopefully he’s with your mum.’
Imagining her uncle down there, Mia was struck by an unexpected wave of homesickness: a longing for familiar surroundings; a desire not to miss any more of the beach parties her pals kept messaging her about; all of her pent-up concerns about her mum.
‘Sorry, I need the toilet,’ she told Hannah, disappearing before she said or did something embarrassing and, once there, locking herself in a cubicle and having a little cry.
It wasn’t the first time this had happened since her mum had left her in Manchester, but previously she’d always been alone, usually in the privacy of her bedroom, late at night. After a couple of minutes, she pulled herself together, wiped away her tears with a tissue and strode out towards the sinks to splash some cold water on her reddened cheeks.
Fortunately, none of the others in there asked if she was okay, which would have probably set her off again. She spent a few moments in front of the mirror tidying herself up. It was an easier job than it might have been, since she’d recently stopped wearing her dark make-up, having decided to take a break from all that while in Manchester. She’d been thinking of making a change to a more natural look for a little while. Doing so here, where she didn’t have to face the inevitable comments from her friends and her mum, was the perfect opportunity. It had always wound Mia up when her mum had disapprovingly referred to it as her ‘war paint’, like she had to Hannah when they’d first arrived here. How patronising was that? If anything, such comments had encouraged her to slap it on even thicker and darker. But her mum wasn’t around at the moment and Mia missed her more than she wanted to annoy her right now. Apparently it was true what they said about absence making the heart grow fonder.
Mia and Diane had always been really close until the last few years, when they’d increasingly started to clash about things such as bedtimes and curfews, household chores, ‘respectful behaviour’ (one of her mum’s pet phrases), and not treating their home ‘like a hotel’ (another favourite). However, since Diane’s departure and subsequent lack of contact, Mia had increasingly found herself focusing on the countless good times they’d spent together over the years, rather than the negative stuff.
There were so many happy memories: strolls and running races along the beach, plus the times they flew – and crashed – kites there on gusty days; watching the latest Pixar movies at the cinema while sharing a huge box of popcorn; that camping holiday in Cornwall where it rained so much one night that they had to abandon their tent and cuddle in the car.
For some reason, Mia also kept thinking back to when she was eleven and, for months on end, the pair of them had become hooked on the feel-good American TV show Gilmore Girls. The appeal was obvious, since it was about a single mum and daughter with the perfect relationship. They were basically best friends. Diane had come home with the box set one day, saying she’d heard good things about it, and watching several episodes back-to-back on a Friday night had soon become their little ritual, often extending to Saturdays and Sundays. Mia remembered those times so fondly. And how she wished she and her mum had that same perfect relationship as the central characters, Lorelai and Rory. She’d settle for them being as close now as they had been when they’d watched it. Was it her fault things between them had changed? Was that why her mum had left her here in Manchester with her aunt and uncle?
Mia shook her head clear of such thoughts and headed back to the table, but only after checking her phone to see who the message she’d received earlier was from. It turned out to be Todd, saying he hoped she liked the restaurant. She fired off a quick reply: So far, so good! :-)
‘Oh, there you are,’ Hannah said when she returned. ‘I was about to send out a search party.’ She smiled at Mia, but this quickly morphed into a look of concern. ‘Is everything all right, love? You look like—’
‘I’m fine,’ Mia snapped, more abruptly than intended. ‘I had something in my eye. It’s out now.’
‘Okay,’ Hannah replied. Her mouth opened a little, as if she was about to say something else. But instead she reached for her drink and took a slow sip, no longer meeting Mia’s gaze.
Thankfully, a few seconds later their waiter returned with a plate of nachos smothered in melted cheese, sour cream and guacamole, which they’d ordered to share as a starter.
‘Wow, this looks good, doesn’t it?’ Hannah said, her wide smile giving away her relief at having something else to talk about other than her niece’s red eyes.
‘Definitely,’ Mia replied, smiling back in a bid to ease the tension.
Digging into the large plate together, and both getting rather messy in the process, did wonders for the mood at the table. Soon they were chatting away more comfortably than they had at any other time previously, discussing all sorts, from her day-to-day life in Bournemouth to places they’d both been or wanted to go on holiday. Somehow being there, just the two of them in a public space, rather than Hannah’s home, made all the difference. So much so that at certain moments it reminded Mia of being out with her mum – in a good way, when they were getting along well together – which in turn led to a few flashes of guilt. She did her best to ignore these, though, by focusing on the conversation.
‘So is Manchester like you expected?’ Hannah asked her after their mains arrived, to which she replied – honestly – that it was much nicer than she’d thought it would be.
‘Don’t get me wrong,’ she added, ‘I’d prefer it if there was a beach and it was a little warmer. But no, it’s a nice, friendly city – and there’s loads going on. I might even prefer it to London. I’ve only been there a few times with Mum, but it’s so big and impersonal, I don’t think I could ever feel at home there.’
‘So you could feel at home in Manchester, then?’ Hannah asked, grinning. ‘There are some excellent university options here … Just saying.’
Mia was shocked to hear this. ‘University?’ she said. ‘I am only fourteen, you know. I’m not sure if I’m even … I don’t know. It’s so expensive too.’
‘I’m only pulling your leg, Mia. There are good universities all over the country. But you should definitely start thinking about it. I’m not saying it would be the right thing for you or not. What do I know? But you seem like a bright girl to me and getting a degree opens a lot of doors. It is expensive, I agree. I don’t approve of the tuition fees young people have to pay nowadays. It wasn’t like that for my generation, so I don’t see why it should be for yours. Do you have any idea what you’d like to do in terms of a job or is it too early for that?’
Mia felt her face flush as she replied: ‘Um, I do, but you’ll probably think it’s silly.’
‘Why do you say that? Of course I won’t.’
‘Well, you know how I like to read a lot?’
‘I do.’
‘I know it’s hard to get into and that … but, er, I’d really like to try to become an author one day: to write my own novels.’
Mia had been looking down at her plate as she’d said this, partly out of embarrassment and partly wondering how she was going to get through the giant burger and huge portion of chips without bursting. When she looked up, her aunt was staring at her in a completely unexpected way. She almost looked like she was about to laugh – but surely not. How cruel would that be, to crush her dreams in such a way?
Hannah explained: ‘Um, sorry. I’m not smiling at what you just said, Mia. Well, not in the way you might imagine. I actually think that’s a fantastic ambition to have. The thing is, um, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you about me. I’m not really sure why I haven’t said anything already. It’s … oh, I don’t know. I’ll just come out with it, shall I? I’m an author. Not published yet, but I will be soon. My debut novel’s due to be released next January.’
Mia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. How had neither Hannah nor Mark mentioned this to her before? And what about her mum? Surely she’d have told her if she’d known about it.
‘Hold on a minute,’ she said after lifting her jaw back up off the ground. ‘You’re an actual author … of novels … with a publishing deal and everything?’
Hannah smiled, her cheeks radiating a pink glow. ‘Um, yes. I suppose I am, although it doesn’t feel quite that way yet since my book isn’t actually out for a while.’
‘What’s it called?’
‘The Boy at the Window.’
‘Okay. Is it a children’s book?’
‘No, no. It’s aimed at adults. It’s kind of a psychological thriller. I like to think of it as a bit Hitchcockian.’ She paused before adding: ‘You know Alfred Hitchcock, right? I don’t mean that in a patronising way – not at all – but as someone without children, it’s hard for me to gauge what’s on the radar of a modern teenager.’
Mia nodded at her aunt, still too shocked by her revelation to be offended. ‘I’ve heard of him, but I haven’t seen any of his films. Aren’t they a bit creepy? I remember one of our English teachers at school telling us about one where all these birds start attacking people. Is that right?’
‘Yes, exactly. They’re probably not scary in the sense of modern horror films, but he was known as a master of suspense and a lot of his films have dated pretty well, considering. You should try one. I’d suggest Rear Window rather than The Birds, though.’ She giggled. ‘That’s the one I’m thinking of really when I say my book is Hitchcockian.’
‘So what’s it about exactly: your book, I mean?’
Hannah gave her a brief synopsis of the plot before adding: ‘But that’s really all I can tell you without giving too much away. Hopefully you might like to read it one day.’
‘Totally,’ Mia replied. ‘I’ve just found out my aunt is an author – my dream job. Of course I want to read your book. Do you have any copies yet?’
‘No, although I’m hoping it won’t be long now. They’ve been making a few adjustments to the cover recently.’
‘What about an ebook I could read on my Kindle?’
‘I’ve not had that yet either, to be honest. I’ve got several versions on my computer, but they’re all word processor documents from various different stages in the editorial process. The most up-to-date version I have is a typeset printout they sent me to proofread, but that’s covered in my scribble.’
‘Oh, okay,’ Mia replied, trying to hide her disappointment, but not doing a very good job, judging by her aunt’s reply.
‘Sorry, Mia,’ she said, wincing. ‘It probably sounds like I’m being evasive, but honestly I’m not. I’d love for you to read it – and I’ll be delighted to let you have a copy just as soon as I get some. Apparently the first thing they’ll produce will be a proof version for reviewers and so on, which might be slightly different from the final one. But it’ll be an actual book. I can’t wait to get my hands on it.’
‘I bet you can’t,’ Mia replied. ‘It must be so exciting.’
‘Definitely.’ Hannah hesitated before adding: ‘It is a book aimed at people my age, so there is a chance it might not be your cup of tea, but—’
‘I’m sure I’ll love it.’ Mia gave her aunt a big smile and then turned her attention back to her food.
They both ate in silence for a while: Mia still trying to get her head around the fact that her aunt was the very thing she aspired to become one day. Seriously, how had she not known this until now? Her mum, who spent more of her free time buying and selling things on eBay than reading, had never seemed to understand this ambition of hers, despite the various encouraging comments from her English teachers about her creative writing. She preferred the fact that Mia was good at maths and science too, which she said were much better subjects for finding a decent job. She never seemed too interested in reading her daughter’s compositions; whenever Mia mentioned becoming an author, she tended to smile and nod. Hence it had always felt like her mum humoured her, yet secretly considered it an impossible dream she’d soon leave behind.
Now Mia knew it was something a close family member had done, it made the dream feel so much more achievable.
‘How’s the burger?’ Hannah asked her.
‘Delicious,’ she said in between mouthfuls, ‘although I wish I hadn’t eaten quite so many nachos now. How’s your fish and chips?’
Hannah nodded, holding her hand in front of her mouth as she finished chewing, and then replying. ‘Also really nice – but what you said about the nachos … I’m never going to get through all of this.’ She giggled. ‘Maybe we should ask for a doggie bag to take home what we can’t manage.’
Later, as they were walking back to the apartment, both totally stuffed, Hannah brought the conversation back to literary matters. ‘So what kind of book do you think you’d like to write, Mia?’
‘I’m not actually sure yet,’ she said, opting for honesty over trying to say something clever. ‘A good one, hopefully. This might sound weird – especially to you – but I don’t actually feel ready to write a novel yet. I’m not sure I have enough experience of life to know what I want to say. I have written quite a few short stories, though: some for school and others, well, just for myself.’
‘Fantastic. That’s as good a place as any to start.’ She paused before adding: ‘I don’t pretend to be any kind of expert, Mia. If anything, I think I just got lucky. But I’d, um, be more than happy to cast an eye over anything you’ve written – you know, if you ever want me to.’
‘Really? Thanks.’ Mia meant it. She’d even hoped her aunt might make such a suggestion. And yet now she had, Mia felt a little daunted. What if Hannah thought her writing was awful? ‘I don’t actually have anything with me at the moment,’ she added hastily. ‘It’s all at home. But yeah, definitely. That could be, er, a big help. Thanks.’
Hannah, walking alongside her as they passed in front of the now familiar, imposing structure of Central Library, scratched her nose. ‘So what was it you thought I did for a living before today?’
‘I wasn’t really sure.’ Mia left it at that, although if she’d been pushed to continue, she’d have had to admit to not giving the matter much thought. The vast majority of adults’ jobs were mundane and uninteresting: a depressing reminder of what real life held for all but a lucky few young dreamers like herself.
The truth was that Mia didn’t even know the exact nature of Mark’s job, even though he’d disappeared to do it every weekday while she’d been staying with her aunt and uncle. It was something office-based involving finances and technology, as far as she understood. Yawntastic, in other words, although it obviously paid the bills and some, based on the swanky apartment and so on.
‘What’s Todd up to this evening?’ Hannah asked her next.
‘He’s probably busy gaming.’
‘I think it’s fantastic that you two have been, um, hanging out together. Kathy and I hoped you’d get along when we introduced you, but you never know with these things, do you? Are you planning to see each other again tomorrow?’
‘Probably. If that’s okay?’
‘Of course.’ Hannah smiled. ‘It will give me a chance to get some work done on my next novel.’
‘You’re writing that already?’
‘No rest for the wicked. My publishing deal is for two books.’
‘Really? How far have you got?’
Hannah chuckled. ‘Never ask a writer that question – well, not this one anyway – because the answer will always be “not far enough”.’
Mia hoped this wasn’t a disguised dig at her for turning up out of the blue and occupying so much of her aunt’s time. It didn’t seem so from the light-hearted way Hannah had said it. She was probably being paranoid. But the fact was that Mia didn’t know her anywhere near well enough to be able to say for sure.
She’d worried enough already about getting in the way at her aunt and uncle’s place: about the old saying that two’s company, three’s a crowd. If they’d wanted a child or children in their lives, they’d have had them. But they didn’t. They obviously liked it being just the two of them – and this was something that had been in her head ever since her mum had left her there.
She wasn’t stupid. She’d paid attention in science class. She understood that some people couldn’t have children, even if they wanted them. However, from what her mum had told her on the journey up here, that wasn’t the reason in this case.
‘How come they don’t have any kids?’ she’d asked.
‘I don’t think there’s any, er, medical obstacle, if that’s what you mean,’ her mum had replied, keeping her eyes on the road as they sped northbound up the M6. ‘Although obviously I haven’t spoken to them in a very long time. The subject did come up after you were born and Hannah told me they’d decided against it – that being parents wasn’t for them. People are often very private about such matters, but I’m pretty sure that if there was any kind of infertility issue, I’d have known about it. Believe it or not, Hannah and I were pretty close before we fell out.’
It wasn’t like Hannah or Mark had actually said or done anything to support her fears that they didn’t want her there. They’d both been amazingly hospitable. And despite the fact that Mia had no memory of spending time with them as a tot, it was clear they did. Hannah in particular had dropped in several references to what she’d been like as a wide-eyed young child – and things they’d done together, like feeding the ducks or watching pantomimes.
Mia was never sure how to react when she heard such things, because they could well have been made up, for all she knew; smiling and nodding had become her default response.
As she and Hannah walked into the lobby of the apartment block, Mia felt her phone buzz with another message. She pulled it out to have a look and saw that it was Todd again.
So? What did you have? Bet it was delicious, right?
She slipped the phone back into her pocket. She’d reply later.
It was great to have a friend nearby – someone around her own age. And she did already consider Todd a friend, even though they’d only known each other for a couple of days. He was good fun, although at times she really noticed he was a year younger than her. He’d say or do the odd immature thing that made her cringe. Like when she’d taken him to Central Library – since he couldn’t believe what she’d told him about being able to play games there – and he’d found it hilarious to let out a big noisy burp in the quiet reading section. She’d thumped him hard in the arm for that and, although he’d kept on giggling, she was pretty sure he’d got the message.
She had to be careful with him, though. She’d been around boys long enough to know that he almost certainly fancied her. She’d seen the way he stared at her, all dreamy-eyed, when he thought she wasn’t looking. And she knew from past experience, with other friends who were boys, that it was important not to give the wrong signals, or he’d probably end up trying to plant a kiss on her, which would ruin things.
She definitely wasn’t interested in him in that way. He was nice-looking, with floppy ash-blond hair, deep blue eyes and a wonky grin she found cute. But despite being taller than Mia, he still looked too young for her and a bit gangly. Maybe in a few years, when he’d grown into himself a bit more, but not now. She already found the boys in her own year at school too immature. She preferred older lads, like her last boyfriend, Ant, who’d recently turned sixteen. Mind you, look how that had worked out. It had been great for a while until she’d realised he’d wanted to take things further way quicker than she was ready for. And then he’d showed his true colours, dumping her by text and telling his mates she was a ‘prick-tease’. Bastard.
You live and learn, she thought. And if there was one thing she’d learned from growing up as an only child with a single mum and no father on the scene, it was this: she did not want to get pregnant unless she was in a long-term, steady relationship with someone she loved; a man who loved her back and would be a father to their child.
So, unlike some of her friends at school, Mia was in no rush whatsoever to have sex. Because abstinence was the only contraceptive that worked one hundred per cent of the time, right?
‘Thanks again for the meal,’ she told her aunt once they were back inside the apartment. ‘Still no message or anything from Mark?’
Hannah shook her head. ‘Not yet. Would you like a tea or coffee?’
‘No, thanks. I think I’ll read in my room for a bit.’
Hannah’s face fell a little on hearing this, Mia thought, although her aunt’s actual reply made her wonder if she’d imagined it. ‘No problem,’ she said. ‘If you need anything, give me a shout.’