We sit in Costa, the three of us, and stare at one another. Even Grace senses the mood and is quiet. I still feel groggy and displaced but this has brought me back into the moment. I pick up my napkin and tear it in half. My hands are shaking. ‘Did they really say we could get £900 a month in rent?’
Tom nods, and his own face is pale.
‘And the bank just offered us an interest-only mortgage for £450 a month? I’m not dreaming?’
Tom nods again.
‘We’re going to have an extra £450 a month to pay the new mortgage on the house in Clitheroe!’
Tom leans over the table and takes my hands. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ His face is half in shadow, one eye dark, the other light.
‘We’d be mad not to, wouldn’t we?’
‘Excuse me?’ There’s a waitress standing by the table. ‘It’s Grace, isn’t it? She was in here with her Grandma a week or so ago? I couldn’t forget that gorgeous face.’ She bends down beside her, long plait swinging over one shoulder. ‘Do you remember me, Grace? Would you like another chocolate chip cookie?’
Tom stares at her. ‘A what?’
‘A chocolate chip cookie, that’s what you had last time, isn’t it, Grace? And you loved it, didn’t you?’ Grace grins at her and lifts up Frankie to show her. ‘I remember him too.’ She smiles at us. ‘She’s a lovely baby. So, would you like one?’
‘A chocolate chip cookie,’ I echo. ‘You do dairy-free cookies here?’
‘Well, no.’ The waitress frowns. ‘It’s just the usual. Chocolate and butter, I guess.’
Tom puts his hand on Grace’s hair, protective. ‘And you say she had one last time? You couldn’t be misremembering? I mean, you have lots of customers.’
The waitress takes a step backwards. ‘I’m sorry if I—’
‘It’s okay.’ I frown at Tom, then look back at the waitress. ‘It’s just that Grace has a dairy intolerance. Mum wouldn’t have bought her a cookie.’
‘You’re right, sorry. I do have a lot of customers.’ The waitress looks back at the counter. ‘Can I get you anything else?’
‘No, thanks, we’re fine,’ Tom says, without taking his palm from Grace’s head. As the waitress retreats, he looks at me. ‘She didn’t make a mistake, did she? Grace was really off after your mum brought her back.’
My head is aching, I rub my eyes. ‘It must have been an accident.’
‘How?’ Tom picks Frankie up off the floor where Grace has thrown him. ‘Your mum knows Grace’s needs. Why would she give her chocolate?’
‘Maybe Aunt Gillian bought it and Mum didn’t realise … or she didn’t want to offend her.’
‘Maybe.’ Tom gives Frankie back to Grace and sighs. ‘I know your mum helps out a lot, but … I don’t think it’ll be a bad thing to get a bit more distance from her. How are you going to tell her?’
I flick my eyes to Grace, picturing her eating that cookie. Picturing Mum watching her eat it, knowing how much it would hurt her. ‘In our next therapy session. It might be good to have Aunt Gillian there.’
‘You think she’ll help your mum come to terms with things?’
‘I hope so.’
Tom has brought the picture of the Clitheroe house out with us. I look at it again, yearning. ‘So … shall we call the estate agent?’
‘You’re sure you don’t want to talk to your mum first?’
‘I don’t want her to talk me out of this.’ I grip his hand. ‘You’re right, it’ll be good for us. We need this.’
Tom picks up his phone. ‘Do you want to do it, or shall I?’
‘You can.’ I offer Grace a rusk but she pushes it away. She’d rather have a cookie.
I frown and take Dobbie from my bag. She smashes him against the table as Tom speaks. ‘The bank has offered us a let-to-buy mortgage … Yes, the rent will cover the mortgage and we’ll have enough equity to cover the deposit on the new house … Uh-huh. We’d like to make an offer. Five thousand below asking price.’
‘Tom!’ I sit up abruptly and the nausea bites again. My head swims. ‘We didn’t agree to that.’
He holds up a finger and keeps talking. ‘I’ll have my phone on me, let us know what they say. Thanks.’ He hangs up.
‘Five thousand below? They’ll never go for it. We’ll lose the house.’
‘It’s fine, Bridge. If they turn it down, I’ll raise the offer. But they might not and then we’ve saved five grand. We can use it to buy furniture or get some stuff for the garden.’
My heart is pounding. ‘But what if someone else has put in a higher offer?’
‘The estate agent would have said so. Don’t worry. They always put houses on for a bit more than they think they’ll get. No-one expects full asking price, not really.’
I swallow. ‘Do you think I should call Diane and tell her I’m handing in my notice?’
‘Not until we’ve got a moving date. Wait a few weeks.’ Tom’s phone beeps and he frowns at it. A message has come in. He flicks it away with his fingertip before I can see what it says. He lowers his voice. ‘When do you need to be back in work?’
‘I said I’d go in this afternoon. My clients will be climbing the walls.’
‘Even though you’re still feeling sick from coming off the pills?’
‘It’s not so bad today.’
‘I’ll take Grace home then.’ Tom gets to his feet. ‘We can drop you off at the station.’
We’re in my car but Tom is driving. I’ve been feeling too sick to risk it. As we move through the high street traffic I crane my neck, seeking the white van. What if, after I’ve gone to work, it follows Tom and Grace, thinking I’m in the car?
Tom needs to know. How can he protect Grace if he doesn’t? I touch his hand, which is lax on the gear stick. My gut twists with fear and sickness. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’
‘What is it?’ Tom changes gear and looks right as he turns into the station car park. I wait until he pulls up and bite my lip. The sky has clouded over and there’s a heaviness in the air that matches the feeling in my stomach.
‘Someone’s been following me.’
Tom turns in his seat with his whole body, not just his head. He faces me. ‘What do you mean, following you? Who?’ Tension in his face, his brows pulled together in confusion and anger. ‘For how long?’
‘For a while now.’ I exhale. ‘Since I reported the kidnapping. It’s a white van.’ My words come out in a rush. ‘Like the one in Clitheroe. It follows my car … so you need to know.’
‘Are you serious?’ Tom is clenching his fists. ‘You’ve been thinking someone’s following you and you haven’t mentioned it?’
‘I … I wasn’t sure at first.’
‘And now you are?’
‘I think so. Especially after …’ I gesture at the new window.
‘A white van?’ Tom leans his head back on the seat. There’s a van a few spaces down from us. He points. ‘Like that one?’
‘I suppose.’ It has a decal, advertising a painter and decorator on the front. ‘But plain white, no logo.’
Tom’s jaw tightens. ‘And you haven’t seen it today?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Do you know how many plain white vans are on the roads, Bridge?’ He keeps his voice calm, low, but his jaw tics. ‘Maybe you’re just seeing different white vans.’
‘I’m not.’
‘How do you know?’ He takes my hand. The muscles in his arms are tight, his fingers stiff. ‘You dreamed the kidnapping, so why would anyone be following you? I know this thing happened at Neil and Sam’s, but honestly, it was a random act of stupid vandalism.’
‘It wasn’t!’
‘Paranoia was part of your depression, Bridge. Don’t you remember? This is because you’ve come off the Fluoxetine. There’s no-one following you.’
‘What if I’m right?’ I pull my hand away. ‘Just be careful driving with Grace, okay?’
‘I’m always careful.’ He sighs. ‘I’m more concerned about you.’
‘I don’t know what time I’ll be able to get away from work,’ I tell him, as I open the door. ‘It might be late.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ Tom glances at his phone and then back at me. ‘It won’t be for much longer.’
‘You’ll call me as soon as you’ve got news from the estate agent?’
‘The minute I hang up.’
I open the back door and lean in to kiss Grace goodbye. She waves Dobbie at me and I give the bunny a kiss too. Then, regretfully, I shut her in the car.
I head into the station. Then I look back. Tom hasn’t driven away, instead he’s sitting with the phone to his ear. He is smiling.
I wait on the platform, phone in hand, ready for him to call me. If he was talking to the estate agent he’d be finished by now. But my phone doesn’t ring. So, who was he speaking to?