Where the Memories Lie (10 page)

going strong. Apparently it was the hottest July for twenty-eight

years. How long would it last? It would probably be snowing

next week.

Forty-five minutes later I was making Anna’s packed lunch

whilst eating a slice of toast with damson jam that Nadia had made

last week. I would’ve just had butter on it, but I’d miscalculated

the amount I’d needed for all the picnic stuff and we’d run out.

I needed to do another shopping list. I could swear there was a

secret food-eating troll who lived in our house. I tried to remem-

ber if Anna needed her PE kit today. Mondays? Did they do PE

on Monday? I peered at her timetable stuck on the front of the

fridge with a clown magnet Anna had insisted on buying from

somewhere or other. It was an evil-looking thing and gave me the

creeps but she loved it. Wasn’t there an actual phobia about clowns I’d read about once? I wouldn’t be at all surprised. I’d seen the film
It
by Stephen King when I was a teenager and it had scared the life out of me.

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Anna sat at the table, looking immaculate − hair gleaming

and smooth and swept back with a hair band, school shirt but-

toned up and neatly tucked into her skirt, cute ankle socks with

the frilly edges in perfect ruffles. I thought about what I’d looked like at her age. Wild hair all over the place, one sock up, one down, shirt tucked out of my skirt. Always too late or too distracted to do things properly. She must get her organisational skills from Ethan

or Nadia. Still, she had my hair, which was thick and full of body.

At least she’d never go bald, thanks to my genes. And she had my

snub nose and big blue eyes. Plus my caring nature. That had to

count for some Brownie points. Didn’t it?

‘Where’s the butter?’ Anna looked forlornly at the peanut butter

and jam I’d put on the table.

‘We’ve run out.’ I frantically spread strawberry jam on some

wholemeal bread that felt like it was on the cusp of staleness again.

Mental note: Add bread to the list!

Anna groaned. ‘You know I hate toast without butter.’

I sighed and opened the tin with the last of the brownies in.

‘Here, have a brownie instead.’ I shoved it on her plate.

She picked off chunks and chewed, watching me. ‘It’s not

healthy to have a brownie for breakfast and jam sandwiches for

lunch.’

Who was the parent here?

‘And you’re not even dressed yet. You’re meeting Nadia at the

bus stop in ten minutes. I can do my own lunch, you know.’

Honestly, I don’t know where the time goes in the morning.

I tried, I really did, but there was always something that needed

doing to distract me − this morning it had been a gas bill that I’d totally forgotten about which needed paying before they cut us off.

Anna didn’t share my lack of punctuality. In fact, she hated being

late, especially for the school bus. If she missed it, she might end up with a detention. (This had happened before because of me.

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I’d felt very guilty about that for weeks. It took a new Horrible

History Boxed Set DVD and a Kindle Fire for Anna to speak to

me again.) She was such a stickler for following the rules and being the model student and got quite upset if she couldn’t because of

my tardiness. She hadn’t got that conscientiousness at school from

me, either.

‘It’s all done.’ I transferred her sandwiches to a plastic con-

tainer and added the last Satsuma and a packet of crisps still left in the back of the cupboard. ‘Here.’ I set it down next to her as she

finished off her brownie. I dashed out of the room with Poppy close on my heels. She knew it would be walkies time soon.

Ten minutes later, I was dressed but having trouble locating my

keys. Where the hell were they? I looked where I usually dumped

them, in the pottery bowl next to the fridge that Anna had made at

junior school. It was in the shape of a three-legged tiger. Don’t ask me why it only had three legs.

No keys.

I looked in the lounge. In my handbag. My coat pockets. When

had I last had them?

As I was walking back down the hall I stubbed my toe on a big

cardboard box at the foot of the stairs. ‘Ouch!’ I hopped up and

down, thinking a really bad swear word. I rubbed my foot, staring

at the offending article. ‘Hey, what’s this?’

‘It’s some stuff I sorted out for the car boot sale. I thought I

should put everything in one big box so then I know what I’ve got.’

She walked towards me.

‘Right. Well, I don’t want it left in the hallway. Put it in the

garage out of the way when you get a sec.’

‘OK. I’m going now. I’ll tell Nadia you’re on your way.’

‘Actually, tell Nadia to walk down and meet me here instead.’

I kissed her cheek. ‘Have a good day!’ I called after her, but she was already rushing up the path.

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It took another ten minutes to locate my keys in the fridge.

I had a flashback to when Tom was living with us and he’d put the

TV remote control in the freezer. It never worked properly after

that. The only button that did work was the volume one, for some

reason. I shook my head. He was always doing that. Losing things

only for them to turn up in obscure places. I didn’t have early-

onset Alzheimer’s, though; I was just distracted, trying to organise a daughter and a house and a husband and job. Who didn’t forget

things from time to time?

As I shut the front door, Nadia came through the gates.

‘Coming! I’m coming,’ I called, and Poppy shot down the gar-

den towards Minstrel to say a doggy greeting.

Nadia rolled her eyes at me, tapping her watch.

‘Yes, I know. I’m not Super Woman like you.’ I gave her a mock

glare, shutting the front gate behind us.

We swung an immediate left onto the path that led to the

woods and Poppy dashed towards the trees. Nadia let Minstrel off

the lead and she chased after her.

‘I’ve just seen Rose Quinn coming out of the village shop.’

Nadia scrunched up her face with sympathy. ‘She had a few bottles

clinking away in the carrier bag. Buying alcohol at this time of the morning is just so sad.’

‘She’s an alcoholic, so I suppose she doesn’t care what time it is.’

‘It must be terrible losing a daughter like that and Katie never

getting in touch. I couldn’t bear it if Charlotte ran away from home and I never saw her again. No wonder she started drinking.’

‘Rose never cared about Katie. I think Rose was actually glad

when Katie ran away. They never got on.’ I tutted. ‘And she was an

alcoholic long before Katie left.’

‘Have you tried to get her into an AA programme through the

surgery?’

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Where the Memories Lie

‘Yes, but Rose doesn’t want anyone’s help.’

‘What a shame. If she really wanted to, I bet she could stop

drinking. Plenty of alcoholics do, don’t they? It’s like smoking. Lots of people quit. I did. And they say nicotine is even more addictive than heroin.’

‘Smoking was the hardest thing in the world to give up,’ I said,

remembering the first cigarette I’d had with Katie when I was about fourteen.

She’d brought a packet to school with her and dared me to smoke
one at the end of the huge school playing field. It was almost the end of
our lunch break and there were a few kids still sitting by the hedgerow,
making the most of their last minutes of freedom. If a teacher was looking out of the window at us, they would never be able to see the smoke
from that far away, but it still felt scary, rebellious. She lit one up with
her back facing the school building, took a practised drag and slowly
blew out smoke towards the ground.

‘Go on, you have a go.’ She handed it to me.

I glanced around. Two second-year girls were dusting themselves off
and walking back to class. A couple of fifth-year boys were bundling on
top of each other, grass in their hair and on their clothes.

When I took a drag, I’d nearly choked as the disgusting smoke filled
my lungs. Coughing and spluttering, I blew it out as quickly as I could,
swaying on the ground when the nicotine head rush made me dizzy.

‘Whoa!’ I put my hand on the grass to steady myself.

‘Lightweight!’ Katie roared with laughter.

I shrugged and took another drag, trying to look sophisticated.

Anything she could do, I could do, too.

‘Where did you get them from?’

‘Stole them off my Dad. He won’t even notice.’

I blew out more smoke, trying not to cough.

‘Here, save some for me!’ she said when I got halfway through it.

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I handed it back and ran my tongue around in my mouth, which

now tasted like an ashtray. I was stupid enough to think I’d never get
hooked. No one could ever get addicted to something that tasted that
bad, right? How naive.

‘Anyway,’ I waved a hand through the air at Nadia, ‘Rose has

been an alcoholic for probably thirty-plus years. It’s unlikely she’s going to change now.’

‘Maybe it was a good job Chris didn’t stay with Katie, then.

Can you imagine if we’d ended up with Katie’s dad as an in-law?

Jack always gave me the creeps. If I ever saw him out in the village, he always had this leery look on his face.’

I groaned in agreement. ‘Oh, he was awful! It was pretty rare

for me to go round to Katie’s house because she never wanted to be

there, − understandably, with Rose and Jack both drinking heavily.

But when I did, I’d catch him looking at me in a way that made my

skin crawl.’

Nadia did a mock shiver. ‘Oh, by the way, I invited Anna over

for dinner after school. She asked if I had any stuff for her class’s car boot sale, and I’ve got tons of junk she can go through. It’ll take her a while so I suggested she might as well stay. Is that OK?’

‘Yes. Fine. How’s Charlotte feeling?’

‘Um . . . she’s still tired. I’ve made a doctor’s appointment at the surgery for her to have a blood test.’

‘Good.’

‘Are you seeing Dad today? I’m going in tomorrow. I’m

organising that charity bash for the Dorchester Children’s Charity

and I’ve got heaps to do still.’

‘You work too hard.’

‘It’s the least I can do. I just think of all those kids without

families, or who are vulnerable and hurt, and it breaks my heart. I’d feel guilty knowing all that and not doing anything to help.’

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‘I’ll go after work. Let’s hope he doesn’t come out with any

other bizarre statements this week.’ I laughed.

‘Yeah, I felt quite an idiot going to see the police. I’m sure they’ve got plenty of real work to be getting on with and don’t need people wasting their time with ludicrous wild goose chases like that.’

‘You see that purple flower?’ Tom pointed to a large bush on the

edge of the grounds.

I stopped walking and he stopped, too, since my arm was

linked with his.

‘It’s a tiger’s eye iris.’

‘Very pretty.’

‘I had one of those in . . .’ he trailed off, staring at the plant, frown pinched as if he were waiting for a memory to come flooding

in. Eventually he shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’

We sat on a bench at the far end of the garden that looked back

onto the home.

‘I found out who Georgia Walker is.’ I chuckled. ‘You gave me

the run-around there, for a while, let me tell you.’

‘Georgia.’ He looked at me and frowned again for a moment, as

if rolling the name around in his ravaged brain. Then he smiled and nodded, glancing off in the direction of the flowers again. ‘She was kind. Very nice. I built an extension for her, you know.’

‘Yes, I know.’ I didn’t tell him that I’d found that out from

Sergeant Downing.

‘It had been a long time since Eve died and I was going through

a bad patch. Things were getting on top of me. You know how it is?’

He glanced at me. ‘I was lonely.’

‘You were seeing her?’ My eyebrows shot up.

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‘Yes.’ He smiled, and for a moment he looked like the old Tom.

Loving, strong, kind, happy. The patriarch who had kept the family

together after Eve’s death.

‘I never knew.’

‘Neither did the kids. We didn’t tell anyone.’

‘How long did it go on for?’

‘Only about six months. She . . . she didn’t want children. She

was set in her ways and wasn’t maternal or interested in taking on

someone else’s children.’

‘I’m sorry.’ I squeezed harder. ‘You deserved some happiness

and love.’

He shifted in his seat, his eyes rheumy. ‘Oh, but I did have

that, Olivia. My family gave me that. They were the most impor-

tant thing in the world. I’d do anything for them.’ He squeezed my

hand tighter. ‘Wouldn’t you do anything for your family?’

I thought about Ethan and my precious, miracle daughter.

‘Of course I would.’

‘That’s why I had to do it, you see.’

I nodded. ‘Of course. You had to stop seeing her. I understand.

Your family came first.’

He stared at me blankly. ‘I had to do it. She wasn’t supposed