No Going Back (19 page)

Suddenly everything seemed as if it would be all right. In the corner Dad lifted his hand and waved. I let go of Sam's clasp and waved back.

“I love you, Laura.”

The words swished around the room like one of those ribbons gymnasts use, up and down, in and out. They were all the colours of the rainbow, their edges sparkling like glitter. Everyone heard them. I could tell. Maybe not with their ears but in their hearts.

“I love you too, Dad,” I mouthed. “Don't forget to take that message to Sam's mum.”

Just in time. The second I finished, my daddy had gone.

U
NDERSTANDING

T
hat night I lay in bed looking at the chair where Dad had sat. I half expected him to appear with a ‘ta-da, you can't get rid of me that easily' expression on his face but really I knew that he wouldn't. As I listened to Gran's longcase clock chime a quarter to three, I was sure that, only a few days short of the anniversary of his death, Dad had well and truly gone. The house felt different. Gran felt it too. Although she couldn't see him, the second he disappeared she let out a long sigh. We had all stayed very still for a few moments, like those living statues you get in tourist towns, waiting, listening, watching. I'd expected to feel heavy with sadness but I didn't. Of course I was upset but at the same time I felt lighter. By coming back, by blowing away the story I had built up over the years, Dad had given me a precious gift. For the first time in my life I knew who I was. I felt free to be me.

After Dad had gone we'd had tea. The scones Gran had made earlier in the day were untouched. No one spoke much. Then Reverend Tim drove Gran and me to see Mum. Sam didn't come. He said he'd got something to do at home. I was a bit disappointed not to have him sitting there beside me.

Mum was sitting up in bed reading a magazine when we got there. The concussion seemed to have gone but the doctor wanted her to stay in hospital for one more night.

“You look a bit peaky, Laura,” she fretted.

“I'm fine, Mum. Don't worry.”

Gran leaned forward from the chair and patted my knee. “We make a good team, Laura and I,” she said.

“Really?” Mum sounded surprised. She lay back against the pillow. “Maybe I'll just stay here for a few more days then and get some rest,” she said with a grin. “Actually, on second thoughts, I don't think I will. The food's awful. I've not been sleeping properly either. I've had the strangest dreams. I dreamed that Gareth was here, sitting in that chair right next to my bed.” She shook her
head as if trying to get rid of the image. “And when I woke up it all seemed so real, almost as if it hadn't been a dream at all.”

Gran pursed her lips together. “Bumps on the head can do funny things to you,” she said.

“Obviously,” Mum replied. “In all the years since… since he left us, I've barely dreamed of him at all and never like that, never so clearly.”

She shook out her fringe and winced, lifting her hand to her head.

“It's the most ridiculous thing but I almost wondered if he'd come back, you know, as a ghost.” She laughed. “Listen to me. That bang on the head has sent me around the bend. Talking of around the bend, what's happened to the car?”

“Written off I'm afraid,” Gran said.

“I have no idea what happened,” Mum said. “I remember swerving to avoid a pheasant and just losing control.”

“Maybe there was something wrong with the steering,” I said to Mum.

“Good thing the car can't be salvaged in that case,” Gran said.

Mum turned to Gran and suddenly she looked like a little girl again. “I can't bear to think what might have happened.”

“Then don't,” Gran said briskly. “Think about coming home instead. Tim's offered to come and fetch you if you're happy with that.”

“Oh,” Mum said and I thought I spotted the slightest blush rising up from her jawline, “that's kind of him. He's been so good and he's such a busy man, I really don't want to take any more of his time.”

“I don't think he minds at all,” Gran said, a touch conspiratorially.

“Mother,” Mum said, “what
are
you up to? I do hope you haven't press-ganged him into this?”

“Of course not. He offered, didn't he, Laura?”

I nodded.

Mum looked from one to the other of us.

“Well I don't want you getting any ideas, either of you. The poor man only lost his wife a year or so ago. We're just friends.”

“Did I suggest anything else?” Gran asked, looking quite put out. Then she turned to me and winked.

* * *

Reverend Tim was due to pick Mum up from hospital sometime during the morning, after the doctors had done their rounds and discharged her. I decided not to go with him. Instead Gran and I made a fish pie for lunch as it's one of Mum's favourites. Gran sat at the table peeling mushrooms while I popped the mixed fish in the oven for a few minutes and began to make the white sauce. The butter was sizzling in the saucepan and Gran had the radio turned up quite loudly so neither of us heard the knock at the back door.

I was miles away, thinking of Dad and wondering what he was doing, if he was looking down on us. There was a sharp tap on the window above the sink, which made me jump and scatter the wooden spoonful of cornflour all down my navy T-shirt. Sam pressed his face to the glass and grinned. He looked really silly, all mouth and nose. I grinned and pulled the butter off the heat slightly before going to let him in. He had a large box under one arm. It said ‘Interflora' on the side.

“Ah, Samuel,” Gran said, “what a nice surprise and some flowers too.”

He put the box down in a corner of the kitchen and I returned to my sauce.

“Isn't it a nice surprise to see Sam, Laura?”

“Yes,” I replied, making a second attempt to stir in the cornflour, and wondering why she was suddenly behaving rather oddly. “Of course.”

“Why don't you come and sit down for a moment, dear?”

I presumed that she was talking to Sam but when I turned around to see if he wanted something to drink, he was already sitting down and they were both staring at me expectantly.

“Me?” I asked.

“Yes, dear, you,” Gran said. “Let's have a little break.”

“I can't leave this sauce now,” I said, tipping in the milk, “or it will go all lumpy.”

“There are more important things than lumpy sauce, Laura,” Gran said, grinning from ear to ear, “but if you must carry on, we can wait.”

Wait? Wait for what? For me to sit down? What was this weirdness?

As soon as the sauce thickened to just the right
consistency I took the pan off the heat and put it to one side, placing a piece of damp greaseproof paper across the top to stop a skin forming.

“Do you want a drink?” I asked Sam.

“In a minute.”

As I sat down Sam stood up and moved towards the box. Flowers! Had he really bought
me
flowers? No one had ever done that before.

“I thought they were for Mum,” I said.

“Close your eyes, Laura,” he said, “and hold out your hands.”

My heart began to beat faster as a memory came flooding back. He had used exactly the same words once before. I listened to the scrape of cardboard as he opened the box, waited for the rustle of cellophane. Don't let there be any, I thought. Stop it, Laura. You know it's flowers. It says so on the box. The only sound was the slight squeak of Sam's trainers as he crossed the quarry-tiled floor. He was standing in front of me now. I wanted to open my eyes but instead I screwed them up tight.

“Ready?” he asked.

I nodded.

And then I felt it – the softest fur. A small damp
nose, nudging my hand, and finally, as he placed her in my palms, I opened my eyes. Gloria looked up at me. I couldn't speak. There was this fullness in my chest. I just looked at Sam who was kneeling in front of me, one hand still on Gloria's back.

“I always knew that you didn't really want to part with her.”

“No, I didn't,” I whispered. “I thought she'd have found another home. I didn't dare ask, didn't want to find out.”

“She's been with me at the vicarage.” He looked over at Gran. “We've been waiting for the right time and we reckoned you might be feeling a bit low at the moment.”

“Thank you,” I said, tears streaming down my cheeks. “She's the best present I've ever had.”

“And she's yours, Laura,” Sam said, “for keeps this time.”

I lifted Gloria to my face. “I promise,” I whispered. “I will never ever let you down again.”

Later, after lunch, when Gran and Mum and Tim were still sitting around the table talking, Sam and I took Gloria outside into the small, walled area
to the side of the orchard. We sat on the grass while she chased a piece of string until she was worn out and then she flopped in a little furry heap on my lap. I couldn't stop looking at her, couldn't believe she was really here, was really mine.

“I'll never be able to thank you enough,” I said to Sam.

“I know,” he said with a grin. “You'll owe me for years and years.”

I grinned back.

“You'll never be able to get rid of me because every day Gloria will give a little
miaow
as if to say, ‘Have you remembered to thank Sam today?'”

“It's terrible, isn't it?” I said jokily. “We're stuck with each other. You're responsible for Gloria too. You're like her godfather. You'll have to keep an eye on her and check that I'm looking after her properly.”

“I can think of worse people to be stuck with,” Sam said.

I looked up at him, leaned a little closer.

Suddenly he looked unsure of himself. There was a guarded look in his eyes and I turned away slightly. Embarrassed for both of us. Maybe I'd misread the
signs. Maybe he didn't like me as much as I liked him. Stupid Laura, I thought. Then, suddenly, his face was in front of mine, his freckled skin and sandy eyelashes millimetres away. With Gloria fast asleep on my knee and Mum's laughter drifting over the wall from the kitchen, he leaned forwards and kissed me on the lips. I could tell from that kiss that Dad was right. It
was
me Sam liked, after all.

The next day I went to visit Liberty. I hadn't seen her to talk to since she turned up in my bedroom and suggested we collected the eggs together. I'd seen her in the car with her mum and I'd seen her that day when she was with Sam. It's not that I hadn't tried to meet up with her. I'd texted several times but she was always busy and then I had more important things on my mind with Dad. It seemed strange to be walking through the village without him by my side and for a second I wanted him there telling me that I was doing the right thing, that Liberty wouldn't bite my head off or, even worse, just ignore me.

“If you're up there, Dad,” I murmured towards
the clear blue sky, “I could do with a bit of help here.”

Outside Liberty's front door I stood for a moment, trying to compose myself, trying to remember what I'd been planning to say. I was just about to knock when the door swung open.

“Laura!” Aunt Jane slapped her hand to her chest. “You made me jump.”

“Sorry.”

We stood there for a second, sizing each other up.

“How's your mother?” she asked.

“Okay, a bit bruised and achey but she's glad to be home.”

Aunt Jane's eyes filled with tears. “It could have been so much worse.”

“Yes.”

“I'll pop around later. I did go to the hospital, you know.”

“I know.”

She stared at me for a moment before stepping forwards and wrapping me in a hug. I tensed, kept my arms by my sides.

“Can you forgive me, Laura? I've behaved very badly. Sometimes it takes something like this to shake
you up, to help you sort out your priorities.”

She was holding me so tightly I could barely breathe, let alone speak.

“Everything's going to be all right from now on.”

I nodded. She held me away slightly.

“It's so wonderful having you and Liz here. She's doing such a good job with Mother.”

“I think she'd like you to tell her that.”

She stroked my cheek. “I have, I have. And I'll keep on saying it to try to make up for being so stressed and difficult. We're not a big family, Laura. We need each other, don't we?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “We do.”

Another rib-crushing came, as if by making her hug so strong she could let me know how sorry she felt. I just hoped she really meant it. I thought she did.

“So,” she said, standing back again and giving me some breathing space, “have you come to see Liberty? You two haven't spent much time together since you got here.”

“No,” I replied. “I mean, yes, I have come to see her. If she wants to.”

Aunt Jane frowned. “Why on earth wouldn't she want to? You two are like sisters.” She laughed, her face suddenly flustered. “And sisters fall out sometimes. You know that. But it's never for long. In fact, she was going to come and see you later.”

Aunt Jane grabbed my hand.

“Don't blame her too much for not telling you, Laura. She was only doing as we asked.”

I nodded and she stroked my head.

“You two have always been such good friends. Don't let this come between you.”

I followed her into the hall and we both stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

“Do you want to go up?” she suggested.

I looked towards the landing and bit my lip.

“I tell you what, I'll call her, shall I?” Aunt Jane offered. “Liberty!” she yelled at the top of her voice. “You've got a visitor.”

There was no sound of movement from upstairs. Aunt Jane smiled at me and squeezed my arm.

“I know she's up there. She's probably got her earphones in.”

Or maybe she just doesn't want to see me,
I thought. Maybe she thinks I'll be mad with her. And she's right. What
am
I doing here? She should be the one coming to me.

“Liberty!” Aunt Jane yelled again.

This time I saw a chink of light as Liberty's door was pulled open and then, as I looked up, she leaned over the banisters.

“Look who's here,” Aunt Jane said in a falsely jolly voice. “Isn't this a nice surprise?”

“Hi,” I said.

I couldn't read Liberty's face at all. Was she surprised to see me, pleased, wary or a combination of all three? Suddenly I wished that I hadn't come.