Weak sunshine is already creeping through a crack in the curtains when Lucia wakes the next morning. She rubs her eyes and sits up. The place next to her is empty, with only the faint dent in the pillow suggesting that someone else has slept there. The alarm clock on the bedside table tells her it’s half past six but Lu’s been out cold for hours so she doesn’t mind waking early. She hasn’t slept this well since the day she lost her job.
‘Des?’ she calls. No answer. He can’t be in the shower – the pipes are so noisy in this old house that you can’t even clean your teeth without waking up the world.
Lucia slips out of bed, pushes her arms into the sleeves of her old towelling bathrobe and heads for the stairs. She hears a plaintive cry from Polly’s room. Reggie’s stirring now, and shouting for attention. Polly’s voice answers sleepily and he subsides into a contented crooning. Isaac’s door is firmly closed.
Where on earth is Des? Maybe he’s planning to surprise her with breakfast in bed. Lu snorts. That’d be a first. She potters downstairs, automatically glancing out of the hall window. Their car isn’t in its usual place under the oak tree. Strange. She leans to look round the back of the house where she eventually parked her new pride and joy. Flora the Explorer is a substantial affair, not terribly attractive apart from her decorations but solid and roadworthy, with only a few dents and scrapes.
The previous owner has customised Flora in various ways. Inside, everything you could possibly need for a camping holiday is stowed away in neat little cupboards. Lucia clasps her hands together and takes a deep breath to calm the fizz of joy that sweeps over her. It’s the first vehicle she’s ever chosen by herself, and already she loves it. Tommy’s money has made this possible, she thinks, smiling as she goes to hunt for Des. It’s going to be the start of a whole new chapter. Des just needs a helping hand to start to live again. Perhaps they both do.
Downstairs, only their elderly dog is waiting in the kitchen. ‘Where is he, then, Nige?’ Lucia asks. Unsurprisingly, Nigel doesn’t answer but goes over to his bowl and looks up hopefully. It’s only then that Lu sees the letter on the table. It has her name written in Des’s trademark capitals across the front.
She reaches for it, pulling out a chair, ripping it open with mounting unease. Like Tommy, Des never writes letters if he can help it. Inside the envelope are more capitals, closely written on two sheets of blue Basildon Bond paper. There’s a sinking feeling in Lucia’s stomach as she begins to read.
Dear Lu,
There’s no easy way of saying this. I’m leaving you. Well, not just you, I’m leaving everything in this godforsaken house. Our reclusive son who seems to dislike me more every day, which tears me apart, it really does. I love Isaac so much and I’ve tried so hard with him, but it’s no use. We’re like strangers these days. Then there’s the lodger. Lovely though she is, I’ll never understand why you had to bring Polly and her noisy baby in just when we were heading for some time of our own. And the geriatric pets, who break my heart every time I think about losing them, but, let’s face it, smell a bit. Everything is just too much, Lu, don’t you think so too?
Right on cue, Petula staggers through the cat flap, meowing pitifully, but Lucia ignores her. She reads on, one hand over her heart like a Victorian heroine in a melodrama.
You must have got the message by now. I don’t want to live like this. Surely Isaac shouldn’t be so antisocial? They said at school he had comparatively mild Autism but his behaviour doesn’t seem very mild to me these days. Mild compared to what? Why can’t he talk to us instead of playing those computer games day and night? And he ought to be planning for his future by now. I had my life all mapped out by the time I was his age. You know that.
All I wanted was for us to have some time for ourselves. To enjoy the house for a change, and spend some time doing it up, but once you’d heard Tommy’s message and seen the maps and everything, that went out of the window, didn’t it, Lu? I’ve got a feeling you’re ready to break out, and maybe I am too, but not in the same way. We should have talked more over the years about why neither of us have felt able to travel, I realise that now, but taking off completely into the unknown isn’t the answer for me.
I don’t want to go trundling around to places I’ve not got the slightest desire to visit and I don’t know why you would want to do that either. I love you but we’ve been drifting around aimlessly for ages, haven’t we? I need peace and quiet for a while so I’m going to stay with Bob to think things through. He’ll understand. He always did.
I’ll be in touch. You can keep the motorhome. I never wanted it anyway.
Des.
Lucia takes a deep, shaky breath. ‘He’s left us,’ she tells the cat and dog. ‘But … but Des never goes anywhere. And why go and visit Bob anyway? As far as I know they haven’t seen each other for years. Surely he could have found someone who lives nearer?’ The pets stare at her, unblinking. Upstairs, Reggie starts to cry. Putting her hands over her eyes, Lucia joins him.
After a while, hearing Isaac moving around upstairs, she gets up from the table and tears off a wad of kitchen roll, mopping her face quickly. Tears alarm her son, always have done. She busies herself at the sink, washing the few dirty pots as Isaac enters the kitchen, returning his mumbled ‘Morning’ but keeping her back to him. She hears him begin his breakfast preparations and then, unusually, he stops clattering and comes to stand beside her.
‘What’s up, Mum?’
Lucia is so surprised she drops a mug, but Isaac catches it deftly in one hand and places it on the draining board before taking her gently by the shoulders and turning her around to face him. She stares up at him, reminded sharply of Des as the faintly worried blue eyes gaze down at her. She longs to reach up and smooth the short fair hair, but she resists. He doesn’t appreciate that sort of contact.
‘Come on, tell me what’s happened. I heard you crying from upstairs,’ he says. ‘Is it Dad? He went out really early. What’s he done to upset you this time?’
There are so many surprising things to take in here that Lu can’t think of anything to say. Firstly, Isaac hardly ever notices other people’s worries, but this time suggests he’s aware of the tension in the house since Lu and Des finished work. Also, this is the longest speech he’s made for ages, and he’s still holding her shoulders, which in itself is odd.
‘Mum?’
Lucia takes a couple of deep breaths. ‘It looks as if your dad’s walked out on us … well, on me …’ she says. ‘You’d better read his letter.’
Too late, she remembers the words that Des has written about his son, but Isaac’s already let go of her and is skimming the two pages. His face gives nothing away as he reads. A loud shriek announces Reggie and Polly’s arrival in the kitchen and Lu’s heart sinks. Now she’s going have to go through all this again and she’s not even taken it in herself properly.
Des leaving? They’ve been together for years, ever since they bumped into each other, quite literally, at Stowhampton ice rink when Lu was almost seventeen. Des was twenty-one at the time and already well on his way to a steady well-paid career as an accountant. With a hefty dollop of cash donated by his parents, he’d even got himself a mortgage on a tiny cottage on the edge of the village.
This all seemed impossibly grown up to Lucia, and she was impressed. For a long time she’d gone along with his strongly-held opinion that they were better off as a couple and children were an unnecessary complication. By the time she’d persuaded him otherwise, her body didn’t seem to want to cooperate. The joy of finally having Isaac overshadowed Lu’s frustration at not being able to get through to her husband how desperately she wanted a baby and she has never seriously looked at another man since she fell for Des in such a big way. Life without him is unimaginable.
‘Hiya guys,’ says Polly, handing the baby to Lu as she goes over to warm some milk for his cereal. He gurgles happily in her arms, one arm clutching a battered wooden bird and the other reaching for the gold locket she always wears. Lucia hugs Reggie’s warm, cuddly body and removes his sticky fingers from her necklace with some difficulty, kissing the top of his head and inhaling the delicious scent of baby shampoo and sleep as Polly busies herself mixing up his porridge.
‘I didn’t know you’d given Reggie your precious bluebird, Isaac,’ she says, momentarily distracted from the turbulent thoughts of Des.
‘It’s only on loan. Isaac said Reg could borrow it because he saw it on its perch outside his bedroom door the other day and made a grab for it. Morning, Isaac,’ Polly says, belatedly. ‘What’re you reading?’
Isaac looks up with a start. He’s hardly registered Polly’s appearance in the kitchen. He drops the letter on the table and rubs a hand over his face. ‘It’s from Dad,’ he says. ‘He’s gone.’
‘Gone where?’
‘Just gone. Left. He never goes anywhere,’ says Isaac, echoing Lu’s first thoughts.
‘Oh. Right. That’s … a bit of a shocker, isn’t it? Well, I just need to get Reggie’s bib from upstairs if you don’t mind holding him a bit longer, Lu. Back in a minute.’
Polly leaves the room rather hurriedly and Lucia is grateful that she’s given Isaac a moment to deal with what he’s just read.
‘What’s all this about, Mum?’ Isaac says, as soon as Polly’s out of earshot. ‘What he says about me isn’t true. I’m not reclusive or antisocial, I just like staying in, that’s all. And I’m not playing computer games, I’m …’
‘You’re what?’ Lu says, when Isaac doesn’t continue.
‘Oh, nothing. And also, why does he have to bring in the other word? I hate it when he describes me like that, as if that’s all I am.’
Lucia sighs. ‘I know, love. And I’ve told him countless times not to phrase it in that way. He should say “Isaac is Autistic”, not refer to having Autism, as if it’s like measles or something. He doesn’t mean to upset you though.’
‘He shouldn’t need to say anything. It’s up to me if I want to explain about myself.’
Lucia sighs, still feeling the faint hiccoughing aftershocks of her sobbing bout. ‘Look, Isaac, it’s not just about you. He’s basically left me. I’m his wife, remember?’
‘Yes, and he says he loves you. He’s got a funny way of showing it.’
Tears threaten again. Lucia’s stomach is churning now and her whole body aches with the effort of holding herself together and keeping a fresh storm of anguish at bay. The reality of the letter is sinking in. He’s really left her. Des, who was meant to walk arm in arm with her into old age as they cared for each other and made light of grey hair and wrinkles.
Reggie beats his one free fist against Lu’s chest and then nuzzles into the crook of her arm just as Nigel heaves himself out of his basket and comes over to lay his head on her bare feet. Polly bustles back in and puts Reggie’s bowl of porridge down on the table in front of Lu. She stands behind her chair, putting her arms around Lucia’s neck, while Isaac, shaken out of his reverie, heads for the kettle to make tea. Suddenly surrounded by all this warm love, she’s overwhelmed. The hard edge of the wooden bluebird digs into her ribs but she hardly notices.
‘Right Lu, you feed Reggie, and I’ll make us a proper cooked breakfast,’ says Polly, ‘You can help me, Isaac. It’s about time you tackled scrambled eggs. I’m very particular about not over-cooking them. We all need something to get us going today. I’ve got veggie sausages, there are loads of mushrooms and we’ll have baked beans and grilled tomatoes. No arguments.’
Isaac nods, and unexpectedly beams at Polly. ‘Sounds good. I’ll ring in and say I’m taking some flexi-hours, I’m owed plenty. You okay, Mum? Sorry I was a bit of a git just then. It’s just that I never imagined Dad felt like that about me.’
‘I’m sure he doesn’t really, it’s his whole life he’s disillusioned with, or so it seems.’
Polly opens her mouth to speak but then appears to think better of whatever she’d been about to say. ‘Okay, but what are you going to do about it?’ she asks eventually, as Lu starts to shovel porridge into Reggie’s open mouth. He drums his feet against her knees and crows with delight.
‘Do? Well, first I’m going to eat the most enormous breakfast ever, and then …’ She pauses for a moment, ‘then I’m going to get out Tommy’s maps.’
Lucia thinks about Flora, waiting outside on the drive, and Donovan waving goodbye, barefoot on the gravel. Happy exploring, he’d shouted. Fat chance of that at the moment.
Isaac clears his throat and Lucia returns to the present.
‘I’m still going!’ Lucia declares loudly. Isaac and Polly look at her in surprise. ‘I’m still going on the adventure. Clearly Des has voted with his feet, but if no one wants to come with me, I’ll go on my own. Now!’
‘You absolutely won’t go alone, Lu.’ Polly says, sending Isaac a meaningful look. ‘We’ll come, Reggie and me.’
Lucia beams. ‘Where shall we go first?’ she asks eagerly. ‘Shall we go with the compass reading and head south west? How about Cornwall? Let’s go as soon we can, shall we? How long can we be away?’
‘I’m a free agent,’ says Polly. ‘We’d need to sort a few things first though, we can’t just go charging off without packing properly.’
‘Isaac?’ Lucia prompts, when the silence is getting uncomfortable.
‘I’ve got quite a bit of annual leave stacked up, and they’re always on at me to take it,’ he says slowly. ‘I think I can come. I’ve got a bit of a project on my laptop but I can do that anywhere.’
‘For work?’ Lucia is intrigued.
‘No. For me.’
Lucia decides not to mull over why Isaac is being so secretive again or to marvel at his willingness to join her on the road – she’s too excited. Clapping her hands, she says, ‘Let’s get cracking then! What do we need to take?’
Over the next frantic hours, Lucia has cause to regret this last question on more than one occasion. Polly is fiercely practical and soon has her own and Reggie’s belongings organised, but once Isaac has made the decision to come with them it’s clear he would like to bring most of his possessions along too.
‘Isaac, you can’t take three pairs of trainers, your wellies, your walking boots and those bloody awful crocs,’ Lucia hears Polly shout as her son makes yet another trip out to the van, heavily laden with assorted bags.
‘But we don’t know what the weather’s going to be like. It rains a lot in Cornwall, I’ve heard. I haven’t even started to sort my coats yet.’
Lucia finds that Polly’s vocabulary is much more extensive than had previously appeared, although she notes that the younger girl is careful not to make the air blue if Reggie is around. In the end she says yes to Isaac’s portable barbecue, his tent and a carefully chosen box of kitchen equipment but a firm no to thirty assorted paperbacks and his giant boom box.
‘You’ve got your Kindle and Polly says she’ll sort the music on her phone or we can play CDs in the van, love. Go on, put them back,’ she says, hardening her heart as his face falls. This is huge progress for Isaac and she knows he needs to take some of home along for security but there are limits, for heaven’s sake.
Taking advantage of their distraction, Lucia slips away to her bedroom for a moment and gets out the compass. Deep breaths help to calm her agitation and stave off the exhaustion she’s been feeling since she got up this morning. It’s been a very long day already. She settles the compass on her knee. Gradually, she empties her mind of all thoughts of Des, the remaining packing and the tasks still to come. Glancing down, she realises that the needles are moving even though she hasn’t even run her fingers over the surface yet.
The compass needle is the first to stop, and this time it points towards north east.
Lucia shivers. She’s already half decided to make a quick call on Tommy’s friend Sir Peter before they set of on the main journey, and his home is definitely in that direction. It’s uncanny.
The barometer reading wavers for a long moment, undecided. For a few seconds it veers between change and variable but then swings back to the former. ‘You’re not wrong,’ whispers Lucia. ‘Never in this family has there been so much of that commodity.’
The next morning seems to take an age to arrive but at last they’re as ready as they’ll ever be. Lucia has cause to feel grateful for her friend Rowan once again. Not only does she love babysitting but she turns out to be a willing house-sitter too. She arrives with her suitcase, full of promises to keep them all posted as to Nigel and Petunia’s health and wellbeing.
‘Stop thanking me,’ Rowan says, holding up a hand to stem the tide. ‘You’re doing me a massive favour. I’m getting my flat decorated at the moment and I’m more than happy to be away from the stink of paint. It’s brilliant. Now go before the poor old pets rumble what’s going on.’
As Lu watches Isaac carefully strap Reggie into the van, the constant ache of Des’s desertion is for the moment submerged in a wave of euphoria. She’s done it. They’re off.