Stretching my limbs overhead, I yawned lazily, desperately trying to find the motivation to get out of bed. Yesterday had been my first full day at the café and although I was no stranger to hard work, my arms were sore from carrying overladen tea trays and my thighs were shattered after walking up and down that flight of stairs all day.
As the high-pitched ring of my iPhone beeped and vibrated, insisting that I get out of bed, I hit stop and tried not to scream in pain when I stood up. Sinking my feet into my sheepskin slippers, I reminded myself that this was the worst I would feel all day, and there was no point putting off the inevitable any longer.
Padding down the stairs to the kitchen, I reached for a mug and switched on the kettle. Although I wasn’t due at Phil’s today I did have to catch an early morning train to London. I had told Lydia I would be out most of the day helping Rachel sort out something at work. However, the truth was I had a lead on Jack Harrison’s whereabouts but didn’t want to get Lydia’s hopes up until I knew more.
Even though I had drawn numerous blanks when it came to Jack, last week I’d had the inspired idea of joining one of those community groups that’s plastered across social media for the area Jack and Lydia had lived in Islington. The other day I had put up a post asking for information about Jack as I was an old family friend and last night my phone beeped enticingly with an alert letting me know someone had answered.
Immediately, I logged on and discovered the message was from a woman named Becki who said her grandmother still lived in the street, remembered Jack, and how he had mistakenly been reported dead. When she asked me over for a chat to talk further, we messaged each other and Becki suggested her grandma was a bit old school, and preferred to chat about things of a personal nature face-to-face rather than over the phone. Consequently, I hadn’t hesitated to agree to pay them a visit at her grandmother’s home.
Of course, I’d said nothing to Lydia, and had hoped to be out of the house before she woke so I could avoid awkward questions. However, hearing her nearing the kitchen door I knew I was going to have to start lying through my teeth.
‘Morning,’ I said brightly, reaching for another mug as Lydia slumped into a chair. ‘Sleep well?’
‘If you can call it that,’ she groaned.
I glanced across and felt a pang of worry. Even though it was just after six in the morning, a time when nobody ever looked their best, Lydia looked pale and her greying locks seemed even greyer in the half light.
‘Everything all right?’ I asked softly, setting the cup down in front of her.
She blinked her eyes open and rewarded me with a kind smile. ‘Fine, thank you dear. I’ll be right as rain after this.’
‘You’re not ill, are you?’ I asked, worried. She was always appeared to be as strong as an ox, but this morning she seemed fragile somehow.
Lydia smiled again, and patted my hand consolingly, ‘I’m absolutely fine. Think I just overdid it with Mike yesterday, that’s all. I’m aching in places I never knew it was possible to ache.’
I grimaced. I honestly thought it was great that Lydia was changing her life and even embarking on an exercise regime, but I didn’t want her overdoing it. It took the body time to adapt to change and Lydia seemed as though she wanted to alter her entire life in a heartbeat. After I got back from my tea-break yesterday, Phil and I had chatted about this at length. He told me that he was as worried as me but assured me that to try and force Lydia to change her mind was the worst thing you could do.
‘She is her own woman, Erin,’ he said with a smile that looked surprisingly sad.
I mopped up the coffee spills on the counter and frowned. ‘But so much change all at once? New clothes, new shoes, new phone, new attitude. It’s all so much Phil. This can’t be healthy?’
Phil smiled at me kindly then. ‘Who are we to say what is healthy and what is not. What I do know is that we all deal with grief and loss very differently. Lydia will settle down, I promise. But to try and force her to do it before she is ready will be a mistake.’
I rinsed the cloth in the sink under the counter. ‘You don’t think I should have a word with Luke then?’
Phil’s eyebrows waggled in concern. ‘No, I don’t. Trust me Erin, less interference is for the best.’
Reluctantly I’d agreed, but now as I assessed Lydia’s tired appearance I began to wonder how long I should keep that promise. Lydia was the only parent Luke had left, and I had a feeling he was also the only person Lydia would really listen to. Then again, she had put up with an awful lot lately – who was I to start telling her what to do?
‘You should take it easy,’ I warned her now as I blew across the top of my tea to cool it. ‘Too much is as bad as too little.’
Lydia rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, Mum.’
‘Stop that.’ I helped myself to a cereal bar for the train. ‘I’m only saying it because I care.’
‘I know that, my darling.’ Lydia smiled. ‘I’m lucky to have you.’ She sipped her tea then, and looked at me in surprise as if it had just occurred to her that I was up ridiculously early.
‘Where are you off to?’
I felt my cheeks flame with colour. I hated lying. ‘Rachel’s,’ I babbled. ‘I said I’d get there early so we could make a start on all the stuff for the antiques business. Lots to get through and I want to make sure I’m back in time to get ready for our evening tonight.’
‘Oh yes!’ Lydia clapped her hands together in delight as I mentioned our speed dating evening. ‘I’ve bought a lovely top from Zara, I thought it would go well with my new jeans. What do you think?’
‘Sound lovely.’ I smiled, bolting out of the door before I was forced to tell any more lies. ‘See you later.’
*
An hour later and I was sat on the 6:46 to London Paddington, having made it out of the house and into the taxi in record time. Fortunately, I hadn’t bumped into Lydia again so hadn’t had to feed her any more fibs. Now, as the train thundered through the Box Tunnel I felt myself relax. Not only did I have a seat all to myself, something that was unheard of at this hour, I had also managed to bag myself a latte and croissant in the platform café before diving on board.
As we drew closer to London, I looked around at commuters and saw they were half asleep, desperately trying to make the most of this precious time before their insanely busy days at work in the capital began.
I pulled my phone out of my bag to flick onto silent when the sound of a loud beep startled me and the bloke trying to grab an extra forty winks sitting opposite me.
‘So sorry,’ I mouthed, while silencing the ringer and ignoring the death stare he was sending my way.
Satisfied I had silenced my phone, I glanced down at the screen to see who it was and felt a flash of horror – it was Cara. What the hell did she want? And at this time in the morning!
Cautiously I pressed my forefinger against the screen to unlock my phone and clicked onto the message.
Erin, we need to talk. I know you hate me and never want to see me again but call me. It’s important. Cx
A surge of anger crept its way through my body. C with a kiss at the end. Who did she think she was? Next thing I knew, she’d be sending me messages filled with cute emojis. Furiously, I wondered what the icon was for cheating snake of a best friend. A girl with bright yellow hair and python coiled around her neck perhaps?
I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down. I had a big enough day ahead of me as it was without getting upset about Cara. Instead I looked down at the screen again and let out a snort of disgust. She probably wanted to tell me how she and Brad had broken up and she now wanted a shoulder to cry on.
Well, C with an x, I thought spitefully as I deleted the message, you can get lost because there is literally nothing you could say to me that would be of any interest whatsoever.
I was about to put my phone down when I noticed another text message appear. This time from Lydia. Immediately I clicked onto the message, hoping against hope she hadn’t injured herself trying out one of the exercises Mike had given her to do.
Do you know any driving instructors?
I shook my head in wonder. What on earth was she up to now? I was about to fire a message back, when another message from Lydia appeared almost instantly.
I’ve just organised my provisional licence and now I need an instructor.
My eyes widened in horror as I reread the last part of her message. Surely she wasn’t serious about learning to drive? Fingers fired up ready to write a reply, I was about to start typing when the train guard’s tinny voice sounded across the tannoy.
‘We have now arrived at London Paddington which is our final destination. Please gather all of your belongings and make sure you have all your items before you leave.’
Quickly, I slipped my phone back into my bag and reached overhead for my coat. Lydia might be busy trying to sort out her future, but I was about to spend my day delving into her past.