Chapter Two
Lydia’s Diary, Six Years Old
Dear Diary,
Mum told me something really, really sad today.
Her friend Lily is not feeling well. She has cancer.
I know that’s really bad because no one wants to say it out loud.
They whisper it like it’s a secret. It made me feel sad.
Lily came over for Sunday lunch. I told her she didn’t look sick but then Mum told me off.
But Lily wasn’t mad. She smiled and gave me a big hug. She smelled nice, like flowers.
Lawrence was here too but I heard his mum call him Ren, so I’m gonna call him Ren now. Ren brought his toys and we played. His bears fought my Barbies. It was fun.
Maybe he is not so bad after all.
Ren
I was early, too early.
I pushed back on my heels, my legs eager to move.
A knot of anxiety ebbed in my chest. The red binder in my hand felt stupidly bright and garish.
It was the first time I’d held one since I’d collated my GCSE artwork, one of the only subjects I’d passed because I couldn’t be arsed with any of the others.
The spring sun was shining across Everly Heath High Street, lighting up the rain from last night that shone on the tarmac and pavements.
I’d always loved living in a small town on sunny spring days like this.
While Liam played football with his friends, Mum would glance at me with a conspiratorial glint in her brown eyes and ask, ‘Farm?’
Everly Heath Farm was more like a petting zoo on the edge of town, where houses and parks broke out into farms, wide open fields, and woodland.
Farm days were one of the only things Mum and I did, just the two of us.
She loved the horses and I liked feeding the pygmy goats and watching them bounce from hay bale to hay bale.
I’d play on the swings and we’d eat ice cream, and I still remember the feeling of it melting down my arm.
My eyes stung at the memory and I berated myself. There was no chance I’d get through today if I focused on the ever-lingering grief of losing Mum. I had enough on my plate today.
Today I was going to convince my brother to buy Everly Heath Farm.
‘Ren!’ a feminine voice shouted. ‘Ren!’
I glanced around, trying to find the source of the voice, but had no luck.
‘God, is that you?’
Pat, Everly Heath’s local councillor, Chairwoman of Everly Heath Social Club and borderline busybody rounded the corner, her little fawn pug, Noodle, trotting beside her.
‘Fuck!’ I muttered under my breath.
I’d successfully avoided Pat for days, but the woman was relentless.
She had been calling and texting for weeks now, trying to rope me into one of her schemes, and now I was being harassed in public too.
It was all well and good when she was in your corner, but when the warpath was aimed at you, well, you’d better take cover.
I glanced around, trying to find somewhere to hide, but she moved quickly, advancing on me.
Pat smiled knowingly, a little out of breath. Today, her greying braids were styled on top of her head like a crown, and she wore large, statement, red glasses.
‘There you are. So glad I bumped into you.’
‘Bumped into me? Don’t pretend this wasn’t on purpose! You’ve been calling me for weeks and I said no. This is harassment, Pat. Don’t make me get Richard involved.’
Richard was the balding local policeman who occasionally came into the social club for a quiet pint. He was 58 and in it for the pension, so I doubt he would do anything, but it was worth a shot.
‘Richard?’ She barked a laugh. ‘You could try but he’s in my pocket, dear.’
‘Corruption from a local councillor.’
‘Yes, yes.’ Pat waved her manicured hand. ‘Scandalous. Now, have you given it any thought? She had nowhere to go and I think you’d be a good fit.’
‘Pat, listen. I have no spare time outside of work. In what universe do you think I could look after a dog? I work long hours, Pat.’
I gestured to the brass ‘Lily’s’ sign I was standing in front of. The restaurant that my brother and I opened last year, when I’d come back from Mexico City.
‘Oh, it will be fine.’ She waved a palm. ‘We’ll all chip in! Steve and I can help out. Sandra and Brian too.’ Pat moved closer, settling her hand on my shoulder. ‘We think it would be good for you, dear. You seem so lonely and Peanut—’
‘Peanut?’ I huffed. ‘Stupid name.’
Pat unlocked her phone, showing me a photo of a small golden-retriever-looking dog. Except it had short, stocky legs. Peanut stared at me through the phone. Her soulful brown eyes seemed to say ‘I love you’.
Fuck, she was cute.
No, Ren. I thought to myself. Keep your head.
‘You could rename her if you wanted. She really is lovely. She has a gorgeous temperament, and the shelter is at maximum capacity—’
‘Look, Pat. As cute as Peanut is,’ Pat’s eyes shimmered with glee. ‘I don’t have time for this today.’
‘Fine. Totally fine. We’ll speak tomorrow.’
She backed away slowly, grinning.
‘Patricia! I am not saying yes!’
‘Fine, fine! But we’ll talk tomorrow.’
‘This bloody town.’
My brother’s van pulling into the bay across from Lily’s was a welcome distraction from Pat and her games, but then anxiety shot through me, followed by a jolt of excitement.
I’d always struggled to differentiate between the two.
My brother climbed out of the van, wearing a ‘Fuck off, I’m cooking’ cap that Kat had bought him last Christmas, and strode to the restaurant, his eyes widening in surprise at seeing me standing outside like a lemon.
Fuck! I knew I’d been too early. He was suspicious already.
When I asked for this meeting, I said it was about our latest recruitment drive.
A year in, Liam could begin stepping back from early mornings and late nights in the kitchen.
We could afford to hire some more staff.
We could expand the team and be more ambitious with our menu.
I launched a new spring seasonal cocktail menu last month.
Everything was going swimmingly.
And I was painfully bored.
I needed something new, a bigger challenge – something beyond the restaurant we’d opened together last year, after Liam finally came to his senses and took a risk.
Kat, his fiancée, had been part of the reason for that epiphany.
Her energy and enthusiasm were the perfect balance to Liam’s grumpy exterior.
I loved opening Lily’s, named after our mum, but I always felt like it was more my brother’s baby than mine.
He would argue differently. He’d say a restaurant is nothing without a brilliant front-of-house and bar staff.
But the food – that’s what people raved about.
The food got the attention of local press and national critics, while the service and drinks were given a throwaway mention at the end of the article.
I’d always been that, next to my brother – the throwaway sibling.
Liam was everyone’s favourite, solid and reliable, while I was still seen as the naughty kid at the back of the class, spitballing people on the back of the head.
Which I’d only done a couple of times…
‘What was all that about?’ Liam asked, nodding towards Pat’s retreating figure, before pulling keys out of the black utility trousers he still hadn’t got rid of since turning from builder to chef.
Liam had always been a creature of habit.
I didn’t know how Kat dealt with it. I’d never seen her in the same outfit twice.
But then, they say opposites attract.
I wouldn’t know.
‘Pat wants me to adopt a dog.’
Liam scoffed, ‘A dog? That’s a big responsibility. You’d have to walk it.’
My hands turned into fists, ‘Yeah, I know.’ I deflated, because Liam was right.
That’s exactly why I didn’t want a damn dog.
But I also hated that he thought I couldn’t handle it.
Even after a year of solidly working beside him, never being late or forgetting an order (okay, maybe once), he still saw me as his irresponsible little brother.
‘What are you doing here so early?’ Liam pushed open the door, ‘We aren’t meeting for another half-hour.’
‘I thought I’d come in and do the orders,’ I lied. ‘But I forgot my key.’
Liam huffed and I could practically hear his unspoken words. Typical. I took a deep breath in and out.
Don’t let it get to you.
Liam flipped on the house lights, and we made our way through the restaurant, with bistro chairs stacked on top of walnut tables, towards the office – or more like a cupboard – we shared.
‘Can we talk now?’ I asked.
‘Yep,’ Liam said, opening the office door and flicking the lights on.
Our office was small and dark, but Kat insisted on infusing it with life by painting it a soft stone colour and hanging framed photos from Lily’s opening night.
My grinning face, champagne in hand, looked down on me almost mockingly.
Liam collapsed in his office chair, which gave a horrible creak, while I sat in the spare chair opposite.
‘You need a new chair.’
‘You sound like Kat,’ he huffed. ‘She complains about this chair every time she sees it. “Unsightly”, she calls it.’ Liam opened his laptop.
‘Right, so we’ve had about fifteen CVs so far for the sous-chef role and twenty for waiting staff.
That’s not bad, considering it’s been up for a few days.
Do you want to take a look? It’s on the Google Drive. ’
‘You can pick whoever you want.’
Liam’s eyes lifted from the screen. ‘You want me to pick your staff?’
I shrugged, ‘Sure.’
Liam’s eyes narrowed. ‘You insisted on picking everyone yourself when we opened. You said I had no idea what it was like to work in a restaurant and that you had the experience of working with – and I quote – “absolute shit munchers”, and that there was no chance in hell you’d let me hire them.’