Chapter 2
Kazz hesitated when she reached her mum’s front door and saw that there was a soggy note sellotaped to it, the words barely legible: Gone to the charity shop. Back in 5.
It seemed that Mum had made a start on clearing out Grandad’s things without her if she was already taking stuff to the charity shop, Kazz thought as she unlocked the door and stepped inside. This was confirmed when she noticed a stack of bin bags in the front room. There must be twenty of them, and she idly poked a finger through the tied-off ends of the nearest. A jumper she recognised as being one of her mother’s (it had a very distinctive and rather garish pattern) could be seen sitting on the top, and she guessed Mum must be having a sort through of her own stuff at the same time. Which was just as well, considering her mother had brought everything with her from her old flat when she’d moved in with Grandad, so she probably had loads to get rid of.
Kazz carried on into the kitchen, kicking off her shoes and wriggling out of her jeans as she went. Ugh, even her socks were wet and she peeled them off with a grimace, then glanced around the old-fashioned but spotless kitchen, wincing when she saw the wet footprints she had tracked across the floor. Scooping up her damp clothes, she bundled them into the washing machine, threw a laundry tablet in after them and turned the dial to a fast wash.
Barefoot, she hurried upstairs in search of some dry clothes, and prayed that Vince hadn’t stayed the night. Vince was a lovely chap and he thought the world of her mum, but Kazz didn’t want to bump into him on the landing when all she was wearing from the waist down was a pair of knickers and a rash of goosebumps.
‘Hello?’ she called, but the house was silent, and she guessed he must be at work.
He didn’t live with her mum, but Kazz assumed it was only a matter of time before they moved in together. As she began to hunt through a chest of drawers, searching for some fluffy socks and a pair of pyjama bottoms, she paused as a thought occurred to her. Maybe that was the reason for the clear-out. Her mum could hardly expect to take all of Grandad’s things with her when she went to live with Vince, and Vince would hardly want to move in here when he had a perfectly nice – and considerably more modern – home of his own. The other factor was that Grandad’s house was rented, so it would make sense for her mum to give up the tenancy and go live with Vince.
After stuffing her legs into a pair of brushed cotton pyjama bottoms, Kazz perched on the edge of the bed to put on the socks, and as she did so, she happened to glance through the open bedroom door and into the room opposite. A wave of sadness swept over her.
The largest of the three bedrooms, it had been Nan and Grandad’s. Kazz hadn’t stepped inside it since Grandad passed away, and she found herself walking towards the door. Feeling sad, she shook her head (flinching when her hangover reminded her of its presence) and glanced around the room.
It hadn’t changed.
A brass bed with a dusky-pink quilted coverlet sat against one wall, and a large dark wood wardrobe was up against the one opposite. It was a monstrous thing, and when she was little, Grandad used to tell her it was magic. He used to say that, occasionally, it would let you catch a glimpse of Narnia, and Kazz had often been found trying to sneak up on it unawares, in the hope of finding a magical country beyond the rail of musty suits and crimplene dresses. She used to be terrified of it, and every time she’d opened the door, she had always taken the key out of the lock and held it tightly, in case it decided to lock her in.
Trailing her fingers across its carved doors, she moved towards the mantlepiece and the books propped on top of it. The fire hadn’t been lit in a long time and she was surprised the landlord hadn’t taken it out; but it was a stunning period piece and added to the charm of the house. People loved those kinds of features and were scrambling to put them back in, so perhaps the landlord knew what he or she was doing. Kazz had a feeling that not many houses in this street of late-Victorian buildings were as untouched as this.
She scanned the books, recognising many of the titles as being ones that she used to read when she was little. One in particular caught her eye. It was a big tome, roughly the height and width of a tabloid newspaper, and the spine was the depth of her index finger. Dark green with gilt lettering and embossed corners, only the title giving a hint to its contents, this had been her absolute favourite out of all the books her grandfather had owned, and she had spent many, many hours lost in its pages. If she had thought the wardrobe was magical, it was nothing compared to this wonderful book.
Gently, she picked it up and placed it on the bed, and when she opened the cover, she was instantly transported back to her childhood. Breathing in the special perfume all old books seemed to have, her eyes feasted on the gloriously detailed illustrations of fairies that were dotted throughout its pages. It had been those, more than the stories they depicted, that had captivated her.
Filled with nostalgia, Kazz’s heart swelled with love for the old man who had introduced her to books and had nurtured her love of reading, and she was grateful he hadn’t sold this beautiful specimen.
Clutching it to her chest, she held it close. This book was definitely not destined for the charity shop. Mum could do what she liked with the others – the house was full of them – but this one was coming home with her.
Taking it with her, Kazz made her way along the landing, intending to go downstairs and make a cup of tea. But when she passed the closed door which led to the third and smallest bedroom, she hesitated. Not wanting to pry, but reasoning that she would see inside it at some point today, curiosity got the better of her and she turned the knob.
The door swung inwards, and Kazz gasped.
She had never seen so many books in one place outside of a library or a bookshop, and she couldn’t believe her grandad had hung on to them. There must be hundreds!
Kazz had assumed that the stock had been sold off when his shop closed twelve years ago, but clearly it hadn’t. Grandad, for whatever reason, had kept much, if not all, of it. Maybe these had been the most valuable, or the ones he hadn’t been able to bear to part with. The living room had a couple of large bookcases, and there was a shelf or two in every room in the house (including the downstairs cloakroom), but this was considerably more than a shelf. Boxes of them were stacked one on top of the other, floor to ceiling, and you couldn’t put as much as a pin between the towering piles.
Kazz guessed it would have been a wrench to get rid of them. She would have felt the same way. Her grandad had spent decades building up his collection, selling books on and acquiring others to take their place. They had been a huge part of his life, and the bookshop had been a big part of her childhood. She felt rather sad that they would have to go.
Her mum would be feeling sad too, and Kazz wondered whether Vince would set aside some wall space in that modern house of his for a few dusty old volumes.
The sound of the front door banging open reached her, followed by her mother’s voice. ‘Karen, are you there?’
She wished her mum would stop calling her Karen, even though it was her given name. ‘Karen’ had such negative connotations these days, which was unfair, but what could she do about it – apart from amending it slightly. Unfortunately, her mum didn’t agree, insisting that she liked the name and was going to carry on using it.
‘Up here.’ Kazz backed out of the room, her eyes scanning the piles in case another childhood favourite was hiding in there, as she heard her mum trot up the stairs. ‘I didn’t realise Grandad had kept all these.’
‘Hiya, love.’ Diana gave her a look before following Kazz’s gaze. ‘That’s not the half of it. You ought to see what’s up there.’ She jerked her chin towards the ceiling.
‘You mean, there are more in the attic?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘How many more?’
‘See for yourself.’ Her mum opened the airing cupboard and took out a pole. Jabbing it at the ceiling, the hatch swung open and she used the other end of the pole to hook the loft ladder.
It rattled noisily downwards, setting Kazz’s teeth on edge and making her still-fragile head pound.
‘Go on, up you go,’ her mother said, then frowned. ‘Why are you wearing my pyjamas?’
‘Rain, puddles and a white-van man,’ she said. ‘And it’s only the bottoms; this is my own hoodie.’
‘You’re looking awfully pale and peaky,’ Diana continued. ‘I hope you’re not coming down with something.’ She took a step back. Then another.
‘Hangover,’ Kazz explained tersely.
Diana blinked. ‘On a Tuesday?’
‘Blame Rossiter. It’s his day off today, too. He wanted to go to the bingo last night, so that’s what we did.’
‘ I never used to get blotto when I went to the bingo.’
‘They were doing two-for-one cocktails. Rossiter said it would be rude not to have a couple.’
‘If you ask me, you had more than a couple.’
Kazz ignored her. She had no defence, and neither was she proud of getting drunk. Once again vowing never to drink as much in future, she grasped the rails with both hands and proceeded to climb the ladder. When she was far enough up to see inside the attic, she located the light switch and—
Bloody hell! Surely not all of those boxes had books in them? It was going to take weeks to get rid of that lot. She’d hoped to only be here for a few hours. There were boxes stacked joist to rafter, hundreds of the damned things.
OK, maybe not hundreds, but there were are least sixty to eighty. It was a wonder the ceiling hadn’t collapsed under their weight.
Kazz retreated down the ladder. ‘Are you sure you’re ready to get rid of Grandad’s things?’ she asked, hoping her mother would change her mind. There was no rush – a week or two wasn’t going to make the slightest bit of difference, and next time Kazz would make sure not to let a single drop of alcohol pass her lips the night before.
She glanced hopefully at her mother.
Diana had a pained expression on her face, but she quickly rearranged her features. ‘I’m ready. It’s got to be done. Shall we have a cuppa before we begin?’
Her mum left her to wrestle the loft ladder back into position, and by the time Kazz walked into the kitchen, the kettle was boiling.
Feeling even more nauseous at the prospect of all the hard work she was about to do, she dropped a slice of bread into the toaster and fetched the butter from the fridge. The interior was barer than usual, but a packet of bacon and a small box of eggs seemed to be laughing at her, and she hastily closed the door. Forcing a slice of toast down her neck was the most she would be able to manage this morning.
‘Where do you want to start?’ she asked, as she waited for the toast to pop.
Her mum handed her a mug. ‘I’ve got something to tell you first. You might want to sit down.’
Unease uncoiled in Kazz’s stomach and her mouth was suddenly dry as she sank slowly onto a chair, the one Grandad used to favour.
Her mother began, ‘I’ve, um… The reason I… Oh, dear.’
‘Mum! What is it?’ Unease became dread, and Kazz put the mug on the scarred kitchen table and shoved her hands under her thighs to stop their sudden tremble. Please don’t let there be anything wrong with her , she prayed. She didn’t know what she would do if her mother was ill.
‘I’m moving,’ Diana blurted and Kazz heaved a sigh of relief, her fingers tingling from the sudden rush of adrenalin.
‘Is that all? For a second there, I thought you were going to tell me something awful. It’s about time, if you ask me – this house is far too big for one person. Are you moving in with Vince?’ She gave her mum a knowing smile. ‘Don’t worry, I’d already guessed it might be on the cards.’
‘Kind of.’ Diana looked nervous and she bit her lip.
Kazz’s smile faded. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’
‘Vince is in Spain.’
Blinking at the abrupt change of topic, Kazz pulled a face. ‘Nice for some.’
‘He’s over there for work. That’s why I have to clear the house.’ Her mother took a deep breath and blew out her cheeks. ‘I’m going to Valencia with him.’
‘For a holiday?’ Her mum hadn’t been away in ages and she’d never been to Spain. But even as the words left her mouth, Kazz feared she knew what was coming next and her heart began to thud uncomfortably.
‘No, not a holiday. I’m going there to live. Permanently.’
Kazz stared bleakly out of the train’s window. She was tired, grubby and dejected, and her head still ached. She wasn’t entirely certain whether this was a result of her mother’s news, or whether it was a remnant of her earlier hangover. All she knew was that she wanted a hot bath and an early night, although five p.m. was a bit on the early side to be thinking of going to bed.
When her mum had broken the news that she would be moving to another country, Kazz had wanted to blub like a baby. She had wanted to demand that her mother stay firmly put in London. She had wanted to stamp her foot and tell her that she was being selfish, that she couldn’t abandon her like this.
But Kazz had done none of those things, and although tears had welled up and threatened to spill over, she had brushed them away because her mother had looked so happy. Her eyes had sparkled with joy and she’d worn a wide beaming smile.
Kazz knew how tough the last few years had been for her, and her mum deserved all the happiness in the world. There was no doubt that she and Vince were in love, and Kazz hoped they would have a wonderful new life together. So, she had plastered a smile on her face and had said how pleased she was for her.
Her mum’s excitement had been tempered by worry at how Kazz would take the news and how she would cope on her own.
But Kazz had assured her that she wouldn’t be on her own; she had her job, her flatmates and her friends – albeit it was a job she disliked, flatmates who were more like ships passing in the night, and friends she hardly ever saw because of the hours she worked or because they lived too far away. She had even considered that it might be time she thought about finding a job in a kitchen that only opened during the day, so she didn’t have to work evenings and could get her social life back on track. She had told herself that she was an adult, with a job and a place of her own, and that she was perfectly capable of managing by herself. She didn’t need to hang on to her mother’s apron strings.
It had been one hell of a shock to discover that Mum was flying out on Friday , a mere three days away, but Kazz had rallied. And she had stayed rallied even when her mother had asked whether she could clear the house for her.
How could Kazz have refused, when Vince had got a couple of viewings lined up for early next week and was keen for them to get settled into a place of their own. The company he worked for had arranged for him to see some apartments, and he didn’t want to make a decision unless Diana was with him. As Mum had said, it seemed pointless her going out there, only to fly home again for a few days, and then have to fly back again.
Mum had confessed that she didn’t expect to get much for the furniture because, despite it being well made, it was very old-fashioned and rather tatty. Kazz had agreed that there wasn’t much call for big free-standing wardrobes these days; people preferred modern inbuilt ones. All she had to do was make a phone call to a house clearance company, and they would come and take it all away.
Her mum’s flight was at twelve-fifteen p.m. from Gatwick, and she had booked a cab for nine o’clock to take her to the airport, so Kazz decided she would tell Freddie she had to have Thursday evening off (family emergency, maybe?). She would stay the night at Mum’s, cook her a lovely meal, then send her off in the morning with a champagne breakfast. They would have a girly night and— She stopped abruptly, as tears gathered once more. There would be plenty of time for crying after her mum left.
Kazz hadn’t forgotten that she had promised to cook dinner this evening, so on the way home from the station she had popped into a shop and picked up some chicken breasts, a couple of lemons and a clove of garlic, along with a bag of spinach leaves. She already had the rest of the ingredients, although she wouldn’t be adding any wine to this dish. The mere thought of alcohol made her grimace. She would serve the chicken with fragrant rice and salsa, she decided.
Ironically, for a chef, she did very little cooking outside of work, and she didn’t particularly want to cook this evening, but she’d promised and she didn’t want to irritate her flatmates more than she already had. Although Mona might be moving out shortly, Kazz still wanted to keep the peace. There was nothing worse than an atmosphere in the place you where should be able to relax, and she liked to believe she wasn’t a difficult person to live with.
In an echo of her outward journey this morning, Kazz rested her head on the back of the seat and closed her eyes. This time she managed to keep them closed for more than a few seconds, but when her phone trilled with an incoming message, she quickly opened them again.
It was Mona. Soz, won’t be there for dinner. Something’s come up.
Wonderful. The very person Kazz was trying to appease with a sumptuous meal wouldn’t be there. Oh well, that was her flatmate’s loss, Kazz decided. She was working tomorrow, and for the rest of the week, so she couldn’t move the meal to another evening, and the weekends were always hit-and-miss because everyone was usually off doing their own thing.
No worries. Kazz hit send, rested her head back on the seat and closed her eyes once more. This time she managed a full minute before her phone told her someone wanted her.
It was Rossiter. She hoped he’d suffered as bad a hangover as she had today, but somehow she suspected not.
Have you heard the news? she read.
No – what? The restaurant trade was rife with gossip and there was always a scandal or two doing the rounds.
About Freddie? Rossiter messaged back.
What?? It was typical of Rossiter to string out the drama.
He’s been arrested. Fraud. They took him away in handcuffs.
Are you joking?
I was there. I saw him being shoved into a police car.
I thought you had today off?
Was that the best she could manage? Freddie, her boss, had been arrested for fraud and her only concern was Rossiter’s shift pattern?
I got a call to come in. It was like an episode of Line of Duty.
That’s AC12.
Whatever. A shrug emoji. Thought I’d let you know the restaurant is closed until further notice.
That can’t be right! They can’t shut the restaurant.
They can and they have.
What about our jobs?
No idea. I’m out of there anyway. Freddie was doing my head in before
this. I’m gonna update my CV tonight. Suggest you do the same.
Kazz shook her head in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening.
She spent the rest of the journey in a daze, and it was with a heavy heart that she fished her keys out of her bag and unlocked the door leading to the first-floor flat. It was situated above a mobile phone accessory shop, but thankfully had its own entrance.
She let herself in and went inside.
The hall was dingy and dim, with peeling wallpaper, and the carpet on the stairs was stained and worn. She let out a sigh as she almost stepped on a pile of post. Stooping, she bent to pick it up, tutting crossly as she rifled through the usual flyers and leaflets. Then she paused. Amongst the junk mail were four identical envelopes, one addressed to each of the flatmates.
Kazz stared at them, examining each one carefully, before shoving the whole lot, apart from the envelope addressed to her, under her arm. With her attention on her own letter, she walked slowly up the stairs to the flat.
‘Hello,’ she called, but she could tell immediately that no one was in. She wasn’t surprised; the others had nine-to-five jobs (unlike her) so didn’t tend to arrive home until after six.
Dropping the pile of post onto the rickety dining table, she flung her bag and coat onto the sofa and gazed at the envelope again, reluctant to open it. She had a bad feeling about this…
Plucking up the courage, she slipped her nail under the flap, tore it open and pulled out a typed sheet of A4 paper. The letter bore the name and logo of their landlord.
Oh, this isn’t good .
And, as she scanned the contents, she quickly discovered just how bad it was. The letter was a notice to quit. Kazz and the rest of her flatmates had two months in which to vacate the property.
She was about to be made homeless!
Kazz dearly wished she could start today over again, because it appeared that things could get worse. Much worse. She’d had the temerity to challenge the gods, and they had accepted with a vengeance.
What on earth was she supposed to do now?!