‘Well, I do hope you’re going to call her and say you’ve changed your mind,’ Lucy’s mother announced when she arrived the following week. A mercifully short stay was how Lucy regarded it; guilt-making, naturally, but she was still feeling rather prickly about Anna’s insistence that she must sell up and move to Leeds.
When it was just Lucy and the children, they muddled along. The three of them were a tight little unit now. They had found their new rhythm, and as Lucy launched herself back into day-to-day life, starting to plan and gather materials for Phyllida’s daughter’s wedding flowers, she had reflected again that they had a great deal to be thankful for.
‘Of course I’m not going to change my mind,’ she said. ‘I’m delighted to be asked. It’s about time I moved the business up a gear, Mum.’
She sensed her mother glancing at her as they strolled across the garden. Lucy had brought out coffee and cakes, thinking it would be lovely to enjoy them outdoors on this mild July afternoon. But Anna had been fidgety and kept rubbing at her arms, even though she was wearing a sweater, and had finally asked if they could head back indoors.
‘Would you ever consider going back?’ she asked as they stepped into the house.
‘Back where, Mum?’ Lucy frowned.
‘Back to Claudine – to that job of yours. You seemed happy there.’
‘Of course not,’ she said firmly. ‘We’re not moving back to Manchester. The thought has never even occurred to me. Anyway, they got rid of me, remember? A new boss came in and decided my face didn’t fit. They wouldn’t just have me back.’
‘Well, if not there, how about looking for something in Leeds?’ Anna suggested, affecting a casual tone. Lucy glanced at her, wondering where this was leading to. She had never intimated that she would consider going back to a full-time job. ‘There must be plenty of fashion retailers based there,’ Anna added.
‘I’m sure there are,’ Lucy said, ‘but why would I—’
‘I’m just worried you’re not thinking things through,’ her mother cut in.
‘What d’you mean?’
Anna pursed her lips. ‘Doing all these flowers – these occasions – as well as running things here.’
‘Well, Rikke still helps out when I need her to, and there’s the holiday club for the odd day when I’m really hectic and need to catch up on stuff—’
‘Is the B&B really doing okay?’ Anna asked, wincing.
Lucy frowned. ‘We’re doing great, Mum. Why d’you ask?’
‘Well, there aren’t any guests now …’
Lucy exhaled. There was no pleasing her mother; according to her, Lucy was either too busy, taking on far too much, or not busy enough. ‘I deliberately didn’t accept any bookings for these few days you’re here,’ she explained, as patiently as she could manage. ‘And there’s Marnie’s birthday coming up too. We have enough going on.’
Anna nodded, seemingly taking this in. ‘But this wedding … it’s a bit of a step-up from decorating a shop window, isn’t it?’
Lucy looked at her. ‘Yes, it is – and isn’t that a good thing?’
She sensed her mother trying to figure out how best to put it. ‘It just seems … a lot to take on, love. And using only local, natural plants, not even buying anything in – for a wedding …’ She pulled a concerned face, as if Lucy had declared that she would be using only roadkill and decaying fish. Anna was a fan of bright, zingy, artificially dyed chrysanthemums and Lucy’s more natural approach seemed to baffle her. ‘It doesn’t sound as if you’ll be able to pull it all together from your garden,’ she added.
‘No, I realise that, Mum.’ Lucy glanced at the kitchen wall clock and quickly calculated how long it would be until the children were back from a gymnastics session in the village hall. Carys had offered to walk them home, but now Lucy wished she and her mother had gone to meet them instead. Things were easier with Anna when the children were around to dilute things; plus, her mother would never badger her in this way in front of the kids.
‘And I’m sure you’re not allowed to wander all over other people’s land willy-nilly,’ Anna continued. ‘That’s the thing with the countryside, isn’t it? You look at it, and you think, “Oh, isn’t it stunning? I’m looking forward to exploring all of this!” Then you find out that pretty much all of it belongs to someone and you’re not allowed on it.’
Lucy exhaled slowly as she trimmed some green beans on the worktop. Anna had already rifled through a drawer and located a duster, and was now flicking it across the crockery on the dresser. It was going to be trying, this visit – but Lucy must remain calm. ‘You’re right – but there are footpaths, you know,’ she remarked.
Anna fell silent for a few minutes. ‘I wish you’d think about selling up,’ she murmured eventually. ‘You know it’s the sensible option to move closer to home.’
‘But this is our home, Mum,’ Lucy said, as patiently as she could manage. ‘We’ve been through this, haven’t we? And we’re doing okay – honestly. Can’t you see that?’ She watched her mother stretching up to dust the row of hand-painted coffee cups on the top shelf. Couldn’t she ever relax and just be?
‘Yes, but what about winter?’ Anna asked.
‘What d’you mean? It’s only July, Mum. I’m not even thinking that far ahead.’
‘You know,’ Anna said, sounding impatient now. ‘Spring and summer are fine here, I can see that. Even autumn’s quite pleasant. But, God, the winter, darling – it’s so long here. So bitter and dark.’ As if it were northern Finland, and not rural West Yorkshire.
‘You don’t need to do that, Mum,’ Lucy said, immediately regretting the sharpness in her voice.
‘You mean worry about you? Of course I do.’
‘No, I mean dust. I did it yesterday.’
‘Well, it looked like it needed doing. I only want to help.’
Those five little words. Each time she’d visited since the accident, Anna must have uttered them dozens of times. On each occasion Lucy would feel her blood pressure rising.
I only want to help … Having left Lucy’s father at home with Tilly for company, Anna seemed to have made it her mission to up the domestic standards at Rosemary Cottage.
Lucy detected lingering tension as she made a pot of tea, having virtually had to force her mother to sit down and drink it. ‘So, would you like me to help with any jobs while I’m here?’ Anna asked.
‘No thanks,’ Lucy replied. ‘Just spend time with the kids when they get home. They’ll love that. They should be home by five.’
‘Yes, but I’d like to be useful,’ Anna added.
‘Spending time with Marnie and Sam is useful, Mum. Remember, I’m on my own here and I do virtually everything with them. I’m sure they’d love to play a game with you when they get home. There are loads in the cupboard …’
‘Okay,’ Anna said, clearly less than enamoured with the thought. Lucy could virtually hear her brain whirring as she tried to think of a more appealing alternative. ‘Or,’ she added, ‘I could make a start on that shed.’
‘What?’
‘Well, I had a quick peep in earlier,’ Anna remarked. ‘It’s a terrible tip.’
When had she managed to do that? Fast work, Mum, she thought dryly, reminding herself to remain as pleasant as possible and not lose her rag. It was difficult, though. Somehow, Anna’s presence seemed to propel her back into being an irritable teenager. She was seized by an urge to stomp out of the room and hurtle upstairs to her bedroom.
‘The shed’s fine,’ Lucy said firmly. ‘It was a special place for Ivan and the kids and I don’t really want to do anything with it right now.’
‘Oh … okay, love.’ Anna nodded, and a pause settled over them. ‘What about the attic then?’ she asked eventually. ‘You said you’d just dumped stuff up there when you moved in. I was thinking, while I’m here, I could have a real go at it.’
‘Please, Mum,’ she exclaimed, ‘I really don’t want you taking on any of these jobs.’
Her mother looked at her. ‘Darling … maybe it’s time to tackle them. It’s been, what …’
Lucy stared at her, aghast at what she knew her mother was going to say.
‘It’s been a year and a half,’ Anna murmured, flushing a little.
Lucy cleared her throat and pushed away a strand of dark hair from her eyes. ‘I know how long it’s been, and I’ll do those jobs when I’m ready.’ The effort of sounding calm and reasonable was causing her heart to thump.
‘Yes, love,’ her mum said softly.
‘Anyway, a friend’s offered to help me with all that.’
‘Which friend?’
‘Um – d’you remember me mentioning a boy called Hally, when I used to come here when I was little?’
‘I think so,’ Anna said vaguely.
‘Well, we’ve been in contact again. He lives in Liverpool but his dad’s place is nearby so he’s here most weeks. He usually drops by and we have a coffee.’
‘Oh!’ Anna looked a little shocked, and Lucy realised with a stab of alarm how that might have sounded. For the first time it occurred to her that others might think that too: that there was something other than friendship developing between her and James, when the idea was ridiculous. ‘Are you spending much time with him, then?’ her mother asked.
Lucy looked at her, trying to read her face. ‘Like I said, he just pops by every so often when he’s visiting his dad.’
A small silence hung over them and, for some ridiculous reason, Lucy was aware of her cheeks burning. Not because she had anything to hide or to feel guilty about – but because the actual possibility was out there now, floating around like a peculiar fragrance they couldn’t ignore. Her mother actually thought she might be interested in another man, romantically. Lucy gathered up the green beans and dropped them into a pan. ‘He just said he’d help,’ she said briskly.
‘I could help, if you’d let me get up in that attic,’ Anna remarked.
‘I’ll deal with it when the time’s right, when I have a moment to think—’ Lucy broke off, sensing her heartbeat quickening to an alarming rate. Anna had been here less than three hours and already Lucy could sense a vein thudding urgently at her temples. How were they going to get through three days together?
A fresh wave of guilt whooshed over Lucy for even having such thoughts. ‘I don’t want to upset you,’ Anna murmured, making Lucy’s heart twist even more.
‘You’re not.’ She squeezed her mum’s hand. ‘I’m glad you’re here. You’re a big support, you know.’
Anna smiled wanly, and Lucy could sense her edging towards martyr mode. ‘Shall I just tidy up the children’s rooms,’ she suggested meekly, ‘before they come home? I mean, just make their beds, pick up their toys, make the place nice for them?’ As if it were a rancid hovel.
‘Yes, okay, Mum,’ Lucy said, slumping into submission now. But at least it would keep her occupied, she reasoned. At the risk of treating her like a child, perhaps this was the best way of handling her mum; by coming up with a list of jobs she could do, to keep her happy and make her feel useful, in the way that Lucy had let the children help by ‘sweeping’ (i.e. riding the floor brush broomstick-style) and ‘weeding’ (playing in the soil).
While Anna was upstairs, Lucy caught up with her messages on her phone. There was a rush of alerts from Andrew, her old friend from work:
Big news!
MC has quit. Or maybe been pushed? Went for a meeting and came back ashen, cleared desk and left.
MORE NEWS apparently big backer appalled by decisions he’s made. And that concludes your newsflash today! Call me. Axx
Intrigued, she yearned to find out more, but she couldn’t call him now, not when she was aware of her mother clonking about upstairs, no doubt moving things around even though Marnie didn’t especially like her things being rearranged.
There was also a text from James: Hope all goes well with Marnie’s birthday. Good luck! Loved the pic you sent of Sam’s pinboard in all its glory. Looked great. Glad he could put it to good use. Jx. She blinked at it, wondering why on earth her mother’s reaction had rattled her so much.
Because of what other people might think of their friendship? That was crazy. No one thought anything, she was sure of that. Trying to shake off her unease, she sat at the table, grateful for a few moments’ peace. She vaguely registered her mother coming downstairs, striding along the hallway and out to the garden, then coming back in and clomping back upstairs again.
Eventually, guilt niggled at her and she headed upstairs to see how her mother was doing. The whiff of furniture polish engulfed her as she reached the landing. ‘Mum?’ she called out.
‘In Sam’s room, love!’ Anna sing-songed.
Lucy stepped in and gazed around at the immaculate surroundings. ‘Wow,’ she marvelled. ‘This is fantastic, Mum. I’d forgotten what colour the carpet is.’ Admittedly, these days the kids’ rooms tended to escalate out of control quickly. She’d had to learn to prioritise, directing most of her energies into the public parts of the house whenever she had guests. They were unaware of the scattering of pants, socks and Lego garnished with pencil shavings and broken biscuit in the kids’ rooms.
However, Sam’s lair was now neatly ordered. His books were perfectly aligned on the shelf, grouped according to spine colour. His bed had been changed and made up immaculately, shoes paired up neatly, and … Lucy stopped and stared at the wall where the pinboard had been, covered in leaves and feathers, all the flatter exhibits that Sam had been able to display that way.
It wasn’t there anymore. There was just a space, and a grubby smear on the pale blue wall.
‘Mum … where’s Sam’s pinboard gone?’ Lucy asked, frowning.
‘It’s over there, love.’ Anna indicated to where it was propped up against his wardrobe.
Lucy exhaled with relief. ‘Oh, thank goodness. I thought you might’ve thrown it away …’
‘No, of course not. But I’ve—’ she started.
‘Why did you take it down?’ Lucy asked, wandering over and checking that it was just as Sam had left it. Everything appeared to still be in place.
‘I was going to clear it up,’ Anna said quickly.
‘You were going to clear up the pinboard? What d’you mean?’
She smiled tightly. ‘All that old, grubby stuff on it. I thought it’d look so much nicer with pictures on, postcards and stickers like he used to have on his wall …’
‘Sam reckons he’s too old for stickers,’ Lucy murmured.
‘Oh, does he? Anyway, I’ve already done the shelf, look—’ Lucy turned and looked at the shelf that, since early spring, Sam had designated as his museum. Last time she’d looked, it had been covered by the small objects he’d collected on their walks. And now it was bare.
‘Where are Sam’s things?’ Lucy asked.
Anna beamed at her. ‘His Lego’s all in that box over there. Gosh, that took some gathering up!’ She chuckled. ‘His other toys are in the basket – I’ve put that under the bed. And his cuddly toys—’
‘No, Mum,’ Lucy cut in, ‘I mean the things from the shelf.’ She pointed at it.
‘Oh, that?’ She shrugged. ‘I thought they were just odd bits.’
Lucy could sense her heart rate quickening as she looked at her mother. ‘They’re not just bits. They’re important to him.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t realise.’
‘Well, can we put them back, please?’ Lucy asked, trying to remain calm. ‘The kids’ll be home from Carys’s soon – she’s dropping them off. Sam’ll be upset if everything isn’t how he left it.’
Anna winced. ‘They were awfully dirty, love. Bits of bone and a nasty little skull, and I don’t think feathers are hygienic. God knows what was living on that lot.’ She paused, seemingly oblivious to the appalled expression that was forming on her daughter’s face. ‘I thought the room would look fresher without them,’ she added.
‘Fresher?’ Lucy exclaimed. ‘When did an eight-year-old boy ever care about things being fresh?’ They stared at each other for a moment. ‘Can we put them back?’ Lucy implored her.
‘I got rid of them,’ Anna said quickly, ‘so I could give the shelf a thorough wipe-down.’
Lucy gawped at her, then scanned the room and snatched at a knotted bin bag that was lying by the door.
‘They’re not in there,’ Anna muttered. ‘I took them outside.’
‘Outside? D’you mean to the garden?’
‘Yes, but …’ She stopped as her daughter turned and hurtled towards the bedroom door. ‘Lucy! Where are you going?’
‘That was Sam’s museum,’ she yelled back. ‘What were you thinking, Mum? I have to get it before he finds out.’