Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
Was it true? That Callie’s mother had sprung a pregnancy on her that night? That she hadn’t known about the funeral. That she’d tried to come back.
Mae hoped it wasn’t true, in a way. She longed for the clean lines of bitterness and resentment. But this new information had knocked her off balance.
Callie’s question about whether Mae hated her was still hanging there between them.
‘I don’t know what I feel about you,’ Mae said honestly. ‘That’s the problem.’
Callie just looked at her while she cleaned. Her head hurt.
‘I understand that,’ Callie said quietly. ‘About not knowing.’
‘Good,’ Mae said. ‘Saves explaining myself.’ It came out sharper than she meant.
Callie half-smiled. ‘You never did like doing that.’
Mae started tidying trays that did not need it.
‘Don’t talk like you still know me,’ she said.
Callie visibly flinched. But she let it go. ‘Thank you for hearing me out. I’m grateful to have had the chance to say it all.’
Mae glanced at her. ‘You don’t look grateful.’
‘I look like someone who’s finally been given a hearing for my crimes and someone who’s very grateful,’ Callie said. ‘It’s a lot to fit on my face all at once.’
Mae snorted, despite herself.
Silence dropped in again, but it wasn’t as dense as a brick anymore. More like unbaked bread.
She thought of the things Callie had just told her.
The bus. The war memorial at three in the morning.
Standing outside this very door and then walking away.
She couldn’t verify any of that. But she could verify Callie’s mum’s pregnancy.
Little Hannah was the right age for that to be true. So the rest might be too.
Part of her still bristled at the fact she hadn’t known. That Callie had not just explained it later. That she’d let this bad thing stay bad. She’d let the gap between them grow.
Another part, the one that had never quite managed to hate Callie properly, pictured her on the kerb with her head in her hands and felt the pain of it.
‘Why didn’t you bang on the door?’ she asked, before she could overthink it.
Callie’s eyes flicked up. ‘I thought I explained—’
‘No, I mean here,’ Mae said. ‘Now. When you turned up with your cameras. Why didn’t you come in the back? Talk to me?’
Callie winced. ‘I thought about it,’ she said. ‘But I was sure you’d tell me to get lost,’ Callie went on.
‘Oh, yes. I would have. You’d have had to beg,’ Mae said plainly.
Callie laughed, looking away. ‘I somehow thought I could sneak in and out without you spotting me.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. And I also hoped I wouldn’t be able to if that makes sense.’
Unfortunately, it did. Not that Mae was quite prepared to admit that. Not while there were still coals to drag Callie over. ‘Well, you must have been thrilled when Neil kept dragging you in here.’
‘You could have said no,’ Callie pointed out. ‘You had a lot of chances to.’
‘Well, as you said, there was easy money,’ Mae said. But that was only half the truth. And the other half was the next thing she said. ‘But then we kissed, and it really blew my head up.’
There was the word. Kiss.
Mae watched Callie lick her lips nervously.
For a moment, Mae was absurdly aware of Callie’s mouth.
How it had felt last night. The heat of it, the familiarity.
Like it had been waiting for her. She thought of doing it again.
Of not stopping this time. Of the counter behind her, and the sheer relief of hauling Callie up onto it and letting the rest of the world sort itself out later.
The thought made her lightheaded. It also made her furious.
‘I’m still angry at you. Don’t think I’m not,’ Mae said, trying to hang onto it. It wasn’t too hard. Things had still happened. Things that couldn’t be taken back. Callie had left such a deep wound with her actions that there probably wasn’t really any coming back from it.
No matter how much Mae might want to.
Callie nodded, contrite. ‘Of course.’
‘And now I can look forward to some pretty embarrassing infamy coming my way,’ Mae added.
Callie’s shoulders dropped a fraction. ‘I can still try and fix the footage,’ she said.
‘You know that’s unlikely,’ Mae said.
‘I can still try,’ Callie repeated. ‘I owe you that much.’
‘Don’t worry about it. What’s done can’t be undone.’ She sighed. ‘Now, I’ve got a village full of customers who’d been told to fuck off for several days now,’ Mae said. ‘I need to be ready. They’ll be at the door tomorrow like a pack of carb-loving wolves.’
She crossed the room quickly and hauled the flour bin towards her, the lid rasping as she opened it. She tipped flour into a bowl.
‘You’re going to bake?’ Callie asked, faintly disbelieving.
‘What else would I do?’ Mae said.
Mae poured water into the flour, her hands moving automatically as she began kneading. She had to. Because it was either this or she was going to try and bang Callie on the worktop. Bread was less complicated. Even sourdough.
‘I should go,’ Callie said finally, her voice low.
Mae didn’t look up. She kept kneading, trying to feel the dough and nothing else. ‘Mm,’ she murmured.
‘I’m… sorry,’ Callie added. ‘For everything.’ The words sounded truly heavy. Mae knew that Callie meant them.
Mae swallowed against the lump in her throat. She wanted to turn, to say something that would make it easier for both of them, but she couldn’t. It was too much.
So instead, she pressed harder into the dough.
‘Goodbye, Mae,’ Callie said softly.
Mae could hear her high heels on the floorboards and the door creaking open. She kept kneading, kept her back turned.
And somehow, by the time the dough was ready to rest, she realised she had survived the goodbye. Better than last time, maybe. But less painful? Not by much.
Because at the end of it, Callie was still gone. Again.