Jenna was at a loss as to what to do next. The man she was falling in love with had good as killed the only other man she’d really loved.
He’d changed his name. Had he changed as a person?
She heard her mother in her ear:
Wasters. You were only ever interested in wasters.
Maybe Luke used to be that guy, but he wasn’t now. Unless he was putting on an Oscar-worthy performance.
With a start, she remembered her notes. She’d started to do a little digging into the events of the night Danny died, but it had been too painful. Then her father died, throwing all such thoughts from her head. She’d moved back into her parents’ house by then. Might her notebook still be here?
Don’t go there, she told herself. How could she possibly benefit from unearthing it all? Luke, or Duncan, or whatever his name was, had done his time. Danny was dead and wasn’t coming back.
What was she to do next? Luke had quickly become an essential part of her life, but now she couldn’t bear the thought of being with him. And he’d appeared just as confused. He looked like he couldn’t wait to get away from her at the cemetery.
But why? He was the one in the wrong, surely? All she did was fall in love with the wrong man.
Twice.
‘Put the heating on,’ her mother shouted from her bedroom.
‘It’s on,’ she shouted back.
‘Put the fugging heating on,’ Sally shouted again.
‘It’s on, Mother,’ Jenna shot back, and then felt guilty about getting angry.
Her phone pinged an alert.
Hazel, looking to chat. She hadn’t heard from her for a while. Maybe talking to Hazel was just what she needed – an unbiased ear.
First, she’d sort out the heating. She propped herself up on her bed and looked at her phone. It was 7:50am. The heating wasn’t due to come on until 8:00.
‘That’s it on, Mum,’ she shouted through the wall. A white lie. What harm could it do?
‘Did I not tell you never to lie,’ her mother shouted back.
‘Takes a while to heat up, for God’s sake.’
‘I’m freezing.’
Jenna shot up out of bed, picked her dressing gown off the chair at the side of her bed and quickly put it on against the chill. Her mother wasn’t wrong, it was freezing. In her furry slippers she stamped through to her mother’s room, allowing her irritation to get the better of her.
‘Jesus, Mum. The heating’ll be on soon…’ But as she entered her mother’s room, she saw that the quilt had mostly fallen off her, and, unable to claw it back up, she was lying there only in her thin nightdress.
‘Oh, Mum. Why didn’t you say?’ she scolded.
‘I did,’ her mother replied, shooting her looks of fury. ‘Hundreds times. Weren’t listening. Always on that phone. Never bothered about your mother. I worked my fingers to the bone for you, girl. And what thanks do I get?’
Jenna let the words wash over her, guilt that she hadn’t responded more quickly to her mother’s request for help dampening down any response she might have had.
‘Yes, Mum. Yes, Mum,’ was all she said as she fixed the sheets and the quilt, being sure to tuck them in so that they wouldn’t fall off again before the heat came on. ‘When do you want your breakfast?’
‘Nine o’clock,’ Sally replied in her are you an idiot? voice. ‘Like I have it every day, and don’t make my porridge all milky like that last time. Oats, water and salt, that’s all it takes. Your granny will be birling in her grave looking at that nonsense you gave me the other day.’
That nonsense was a porridge Jenna made for her weeks ago. Every day since, she’d received the same warning.
It was with relief at the thought of speaking to another grown-up that she answered the message from Hazel.