Chapter Thirty-Nine
The Tube was stuffy, and my throat felt tight as a bloke played the accordion, and I stood next to the armpit of a man with some serious body odour issues.
Everything was too loud and hot and smelly.
Overstimulated, I changed onto the Elizabeth line to Reading, which smelt moderately better.
At the other end, I jumped into a cab, preparing for a lecture from Mum about wasting money.
But this time, I had a response.
I wasn’t a fuck up.
I was a grown-ass woman. I was capable and creative.
I was more than her low expectations of me. I was capable and creative. I repeated the words like they were my morning affirmations. I might even paint it on my mirror in red lipstick.
I tipped the cab driver, pushed open the creaking gate and walked up the weeded path to Mum and Graham’s Victorian terrace.
Next door, our neighbours, Will and Patrick, were watching reruns of Gogglebox.
I’d spoken to them twice in my entire life and not given it a second thought.
After two months in Everly Heath, that was bizarre to me.
I tiptoed into the house, placed my keys in the bowl and tried to kick off my shoes without making any noise.
Mum and Graham would be in bed by nine, and it was ten thirty.
I’d been at the bar later than I’d planned with Willa, and while I wasn’t drunk, I was definitely tipsy.
Willa and I had planned what I would say to Mum tomorrow. I was leaving in two weeks.
Willa kept repeating the same point – they were welcome to visit, but I wouldn’t accept any negativity at all.
By the end of the first bottle of champagne, Willa role-played Mum.
She aced the flat look Mum gave me when she was disappointed.
As Willa wagged her finger, and we both burst into laughter, Elias watched on and shook his head as he wiped down the bar.
Elias usually let us stay later when leftover handbags and empty pint glasses littered the tables.
‘In here, Katherine,’ Mum said, and I froze like a teenager caught climbing through the window after dark.
I corrected myself, repeating my affirmations. I held my head high as I walked past the front room, which had become colder and dustier since I left. I strode into the little galley kitchen at the back of the house, trying to emulate how Willa walked around the office in her pencil skirt.
‘Hello,’ I said, opening my mouth to apologise for my late arrival, but I snapped my mouth shut.
Graham and Mum sat at the wooden kitchen table we used for breakfasts and lunches. The orangey wooden kitchen cabinets were cosy, making the room feel smaller. Graham was a full head taller than Mum, even seated. Their hands were cupped around steaming mugs of tea on the faded polka-dot tablecloth.
We’d had it since I was twelve.
Before I’d left, I thought Mum and Graham’s house was charming and eclectic.
Now, everything was thrown into a new light.
It was a mausoleum. I wanted to throw open the windows and let some breeze in.
I wanted to donate all the crap they held onto.
Stupid trinkets Mum was curating, all items holding her back from doing what she wanted to do – travelling the world.
‘Sit down, Kat,’ Graham said, and panic rose in my throat.
‘What’s happened?’ My brain searched for some kind of catastrophic event. Dad was already dead. Oh god, was it cancer?
‘Nothing bad,’ Graham said with one of his soft, reassuring smiles. I never understood how Graham and Mum worked together. She was so prickly and unrelenting, and he was so soft and pliant. Maybe that’s why they worked.
I pulled back the chair, suddenly conscious of my alcohol breath and how the room was slightly spinning.
‘We want to talk to you about Everly Heath,’ Graham said, and surprisingly, Mum didn’t bristle like she usually did at the mention of the town.
I sat up straight. ‘You aren’t persuading me to stay here. I told you from the beginning that I was going back. I needed this time to make sure everything was sorted with Willa.’
And with you, I wanted to say.
I wanted to shout that Liam and I agreed that I hadn’t returned here with my tail between my legs. I wasn’t going to have my mind changed.
I hadn’t stopped thinking about Liam for weeks.
Each morning was a brutal reminder when I rolled over, searching for him.
The dreams were the worst – they taunted me with moments of Liam in the kitchen, kissing me.
A blend of memories. I missed waking up next to him, his scent around me, the weight of his arm across me.
I missed the tree-lined walk to the club and, most worryingly, Ray, the jazz singer and his polyester waistcoat.
I missed laughing with Lydia and Sandra at the club.
I even missed the light sheen of rain on my face on the walk home.
‘We know, Kat,’ Graham said, glancing at Mum.
‘And we’ve had some… discussions about your move.
Mum and I didn’t agree at first.’ Graham reached over to pat Mum’s hand, and Mum’s head nodded an inch.
‘I think it would be good for you to have a fresh start somewhere new. And this chap of yours –’ Graham paused.
‘Liam.’
‘Yes, Liam. Well, you mention him so often, so I suppose you are rather attached to the chap.’
My lips twitched. ‘I am.’
I’d been trying to recreate some of Liam’s recipes at home for Mum and Graham.
I never got them right, but each one got better, and I loved mentioning his name at the dinner table.
I revelled in the way Mum’s eye twitched.
I didn’t give a fuck what she thought anymore.
Just mentioning Liam’s cooking and Lily’s made me feel like I hadn’t dreamt him up. He was real. And I’d be back soon.
It made my heart ache but in that lovely, painful way.
‘I’m not going to ask for your permission,’ I said, and Mum’s eyes flickered to mine. ‘I’m a grown adult.’
‘No, we know,’ Graham said, ever the diplomat.
‘You hurt me, Mum.’ The champagne had loosened my tongue.
‘You lied to me. You pushed Dad away. You let me believe he didn’t love me.
’ My voice broke, and I saw regret etched on Mum’s face for the first time.
‘I’ve grown up terrified of letting you down, like I did at school.
So I’ve done everything you said just to get a glimmer of approval from you.
You picked my university. You suggested I work for Willa.
I stopped seeing anyone you didn’t approve of.
I wrote relationships off completely because I knew there was no point. I couldn’t make you happy.’
Mum opened her mouth, but I held up a hand.
‘Let me finish. You owe me that.’
She gave a small nod.
‘I’ve been stagnant. I was bored out of my head.
And okay, maybe that is a bit to do with my ADHD, but so what?
It took Willa pushing me to do anything about it.
I’ve found where I want to be. I know it’s a risk.
But I can’t live like life isn’t about taking a little risk.
It isn’t living, Mum.’ My eyes flickered to Graham, his bespectacled face uncharacteristically intense. ‘You should both live yours.’
‘Kat,’ Mum said, and I tried not to react at the use of my nickname. ‘I realise I’ve made a lot of mistakes. If you can believe me, whatever I did was out of love. It was because I thought it was best –’
I opened my mouth, but Mum stopped me. ‘I was wrong. I’m realising that now.
’ She glanced at Graham. ‘Graham made me see how blind I’ve been.
I’m sorry.’ She inhaled. ‘I can’t say I’m happy about you moving to Everly Heath.
I don’t understand it. But I don’t have to. I need to accept it’s what you want.’
My mind reeled. Not in any universe did I expect Paula Evans to admit she was wrong.
‘Well –’ I paused, unsure what to say. ‘Thank you.’
‘So, we figured you’d want to see this.’ Graham slid over a white envelope. ‘We haven’t opened it.’
I spotted the familiar sprawl, and my hands darted across the table to snatch it.
It was Liam’s handwriting. I was used to seeing it on my walls where he’d made measurements or on notes he left on the island when he left early for work and left me in bed.
I ripped open the envelope and let out a little noise. Something between a whine and a sigh.
‘What is it?’ Graham asked, frowning.
‘Nothing,’ I said, my eyes burning as I scanned the invite, my brain lagging behind. Next weekend. Friends and family. Then, a little handwritten note in the corner. You pinkie promised.
My heart pounded, adrenaline pumped. I stood up, my chair scraping back. Then, I stopped myself.
What did I think I would do – run two hundred miles?
Mum’s hand went to the invite. ‘Did you design this?’
‘How did you know?’
‘I always know your designs,’ she said, lowering her eyes.
‘I can tell by the colours. You always favour reds and oranges. Sometimes teal.’ Mum took a deep breath and met my eyes.
‘I know I don’t always say it. But I’m proud of you.
I’ve always been proud of you. I promise to work harder to make sure you know that. ’
My nose burned, and all I could do was nod.
I glanced down at the invite. I’d used swirly cursive letters to spell out Lily’s – strong, bold colours for their branding, an ode to Liam’s strong, no-nonsense attitude.
The deep blues and burnt oranges captured his steady, thrumming presence.
I’d be happy if that were my last graphic design job, ever. For Lily’s. For Liam.
I said goodnight to Mum and Graham and headed to pack up my life.