Next morning, with Senara’s loud snores drifting through from the living room, Anna sat in bed nursing her throbbing head. There had to be a way through it all, but how would she find it? One thing was certain: she wasn’t going to share her time off work with her mother. Quickly dressing, she took her purse and mobile phone and sneaked out, grateful that Senara was a famously heavy sleeper. It was only when she emerged on the street outside Walton Tower that she felt she could breathe again.
It was almost eight-thirty, but the coffee shop was surprisingly empty. Unlike Freya & Georgie’s, which was packed all day with city workers, Spill the Beans did most of its business at the end of the day, when weary local residents needed to unwind before heading home.
‘Hey, Anna,’ Chas, the smiling owner, called out as she arrived at the counter. ‘We don’t usually see you this early. You okay?’
‘I’m good. Just taking a little time off work,’ she replied, hoping against hope that a certain copy of the Daily Messenger hadn’t made its way here yet.
‘Sounds nice.’
With her mother hanging around, this was unlikely. She settled at a table and sought out her brother’s number on her phone.
‘Anna? Wass gonon?’ Ruari sounded sleepy, despite probably being up for hours catching waves before work.
‘Sorry to call so early, but I’ve got a bit of a crisis.’
Her brother’s chuckle brought a smile. ‘Even more than yesterday? Lads on the beach were agog with it last night. Clem Wheelwright says he wished he’d dated you at school, so he’d have a story to sell on you now.’
‘Charming. It’s not the story that’s the problem this time, but it’s dragged Mum up here.’
There was a pause. Anna pictured her brother’s face as he processed what he’d just heard. Anna could hear the gabbling of seagulls and the crash of waves on the beach, where Ruari would be preparing for the day’s surf-school clients. ‘Mum’s in London? Mum?’
‘Caught the train up the minute she read the paper, apparently. I haven’t heard from her for six years and then yesterday there she was, bold as brass in my flat. I asked her to leave, but she refused last night.’
‘I’m still getting over her leaving Cornwall. I always figured she’d turn into a pillar of salt the moment she crossed the Tamar.’
‘I think she wants money, Rua. I can’t imagine she’s come to look after me.’
Ruari laughed – but this time Anna could hear the hollowness of experience. ‘What you going to do?’
‘Short of getting a restraining order, I don’t know.’
‘I might be able to help you out on that score. Remember Griff Grantley, the little kid who used to trail after our gang wanting to join us? He’s only a Detective Inspector now! I could ask him to sort you out.’ He let out a long breath. ‘I wish I could come up and drag her back, An, but I’m run off my feet here. Besides, I’m not ’zackly her favourite person at the moment.’
‘Oh? That isn’t what she said.’ Anna might have known that her mother’s glowing endorsement of Ruari’s behaviour was merely a stick to beat her with.
‘Jodie and me are pretty much done with her now. She turned up last Saturday, drunk out of her mind, scared the kids – and that was it: Jodie threw her out and threatened to leave me if I help her again. I’m not risking my family for that woman, not any more, An. But I’m always here for you, yeah? Always. And I mean that.’
‘I know.’
‘Look, I’ll try and call her mobile today if she’s got it turned on, and talk some sense into her, yeah? But beyond that, I don’t know what I can do.’
‘It’s okay. I just wanted to tell someone more than anything. I’ll deal with her.’
‘Well, be careful. You know how conniving she is. And if it gets worse, call me and I’ll . . . just have to make sure Jodie don’t find out.’
Anna didn’t want to cause trouble between her brother and his partner, especially given the hassle they’d put up with over the last six years. Ending the call five minutes later, she sank back into the coffee shop’s leather sofa and let her thoughts wash over her.
She couldn’t be angry with her younger brother. While she had escaped to a place where Senara was unlikely to follow (or so she’d thought), Ruari had stayed in the county, never more than an hour’s drive away from their mother’s latest whim. But he had his partner and two beautiful daughters now and had worked hard to build the happy, secure home he and Anna had been denied as children. He deserved a reprieve from being the blue-eyed boy. Senara was in Anna’s city now – and it was up to her to deal with it.
An hour later, with nothing else to keep her away from her apartment and the unwelcome visitor still encamped there, Anna went home. A suspicious fug of nicotine smoke hung guiltily by the window as she entered, Senara hunched over a black coffee in Anna’s dressing gown, which she’d pilfered from the back of the bathroom door.
‘Morning.’ Gravel grated in her mother’s low voice, followed by a fit of guttural coughing. ‘Hope you don’t mind this.’ She pulled out the lapel of the dressing gown.
‘Help yourself.’
‘I did. So, how comes you’re not at work, maid? Lost your fancy job, have you?’
‘I have some time off.’
‘Ah! Plenty of time to show your old mum round your swanky town then. Convince me how the ’ell you think this place beats Kernow.’
‘I’m not taking you anywhere, except the station.’
Unmoved, Senara picked at her fingernail, dropping a shred of red nail varnish on the coffee table. ‘Like that, is it?’
‘I don’t want you here. I’m sorry.’ It surprised her to hear how boldly she addressed her mother. But she was furious with Senara for abusing Ruari’s care, and her mother needed to hear it.
‘Well, you’ve got me. Thing is, I thought your paper might like a character reference for their latest star. Bit of background, you know. Add a bit of colour. Course, it’ll cost them. But that’s how papers like that work, ain’t it?’
One thing could be said for Senara Browne – she never troubled herself with pretence.
‘They wouldn’t be interested.’
‘Your man Ben would be, I’m sure.’
‘He’s out of the city for work,’ Anna shot back, crossing her arms as a protective shield. Senara’s intention scared her more than the thought of Ben’s follow-up article, which by now would have been read all over the country. There was no telling what lies Senara would weave, if she thought it would bring her more money. ‘You have to go.’
And then, without warning, her mother burst into tears. ‘One day, An! That’s all I’m askin’ for! T’ain’t much to ask. Maybe I miss my girl – have you stopped to consider that? Maybe I want to make things right a’tween us. I turned fifty last week. My life’s headin’ towards the grave and I don’t like all I see back down the road. Your brother’s gone cold on me, too, now. I blame that maid he’s shacked up with – never liked me, she hasn’t. Oh, come on, girl! Just one day. Then I’ll catch the train tomorrow and you won’t have to hear from me again, if you don’t want to. I can make myself comfortable here – I won’t need babysittin’. How about I get us something for tea, eh? You go out and do what you have to, and I’ll sort it for when you get home?’
Anna stared at her mother, suddenly unsure. She knew Senara could cry crocodile tears like a pro when she needed to, but she couldn’t escape the hint of desperation in her mother’s voice. ‘I don’t know . . .’
‘Please, girl? I know I ain’t been a good mother – I’ve had enough folks tell me that over the years. I’ve let you down and I ain’t been there when you needed a mum. It ain’t much, but it might go towards tipping the balance back. I don’t want us at war, Anna, despite what you might think. Let me do this, then I’ll go. Promise.’
It was clear that Senara had no intention of leaving today. A little confused by her mother’s emotional response, weary from lack of sleep and having no will to fight, Anna conceded defeat. ‘Okay. I’ll be out for most of the day, though.’
Senara’s eyes lit up. ‘You take all the time you need. I’ll be fine, here, don’t you worry. Eight o’clock tea, yeah?’
In the corridor outside, Anna turned to look back at her front door. She should be worried: when had her mother ever been sincere about anything before? Anna knew she could have stood her ground, insisted that her mother leave immediately and won the sole use of her home back, but something had stopped her. Maybe it was tiredness, or perhaps a deeper motivation. For too long she’d feared the day her mother might turn up in London – maybe facing that fear with the new confidence she’d discovered in herself would help her to draw a line under the events of her childhood? This evening might be the time she could reveal who she really was, to a mother who had never taken the time to notice. And then, Anna could be free.
Still, the problem of what to do with her unwanted day off from work loomed large. Having banished herself from her own home until the evening, Anna had no choice but to keep busy – but what should she do?
On a whim, she crossed the hall and knocked on Jonah’s door. He was probably out on a project somewhere, like every other self-respecting worker in the city today. Turning away as soon as she’d knocked, she jumped when the door behind her opened.
‘Anna? What’s up, lass?’
She turned back. ‘I’m sorry, Jonah, I’ve nowhere else to go . . .’
Saying it out loud caused the frustration of the past twenty-four hours to flood over her. All of this had been brought about by someone she’d cared for – someone she trusted. Ben had forced a spotlight on Anna that she’d never asked for and now, across the country, readers of the Daily Messenger were forming opinions about her – just as the residents of Polperro had done when Senara crashed Anna’s musical performance so many years ago. It might pass quickly, but what if it didn’t? What if from now on she was known as ‘That Girl with the Parcels’, just as she’d been known as ‘That Poor Anna Browne’, years before? The thought terrified her. And it was all beyond her control . . .
Without warning, she burst into tears, her loud sobs echoing down the corridor. Frustration, weariness and the injustice of it all converged to overwhelm her; with no strength left to resist, Anna let go. Shocked, Jonah didn’t wait for an invitation, wrapping his arms around her and leading her inside.
‘It’s okay,’ he murmured against her hair. ‘It’ll all be okay.’