Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
‘Nooo.’ Beth stared at her phone as if sheer willpower might vaporise the message. Deleting it would only erase pixels, not the words already tattooed on her brain.
I’m all packed up for Eilean Driftach but I’d like to drop by today. Or tomorrow, whichever suits you best. Luke xx
Two kisses. She fought the urge to reply with a selection of ‘up yours’ emojis, if such a thing existed.
The previous message, from Diana, had been far easier to deal with:
Right, I’ve gathered the girlie gang – me, Kit and Nina – and we’re cordially inviting (telling) you to get your bumpkin arse over to mine on Friday for a night of debauchery.
Beth had tomorrow evening off ahead of Ed and Angela’s latest ‘drum up business’ brainwave: a pub tombola where punters brought wrapped, vaguely Scottish-themed tat, bought a ticket, and won someone else’s daft offering.
Beth had been tasked with deep-fried everything – Mars Bars, pizza, black pudding, Scotch eggs.
She feared the defibrillator might earn its keep.
She typed before she could overthink:
Come this afternoon. After three, as I’m working lunchtime. Let me know what time. The Jekyll his eyes shone. ‘Please don’t say it’s over. Please.’
Beth stood. The cold seeped through the fleece, but warmth – safety – waited inside. Home is where the heart is, they said. Right now, Cranley held hers: dented, stubborn and still beating.
‘Bye, Luke.’ She pecked his cheek. ‘I wish you well.’
She didn’t look back as she strode into the pub. Tears came anyway. Angela and Ed clocked her: kind eyes, no questions. A couple of late-afternoon regulars glanced up before returning to their drinks.
Beth headed straight for the basement. ‘Gigi, are you there?’
‘Always, sugarplum.’ He shimmered into being, today channelling glam rocker: silk trousers, a lamé kimono and platform boots that flashed like disco traffic lights.
‘I just spoke to my husband. But you probably already knew that.’
Gigi nodded, solemn for once. ‘My left foot gave me a sign. Mainly one that said, “kick him into touch”. Is that a football term?’
‘Rugby,’ Beth murmured. ‘And I think I sort of did. Which confuses me, because he is – was – the most important person in my life.’
Gigi perched on the glass, surprisingly gentle.
‘Darlin’, the most important person in your life is you.
Mortals get far too hung up on people-pleasing.
“If I make you happy, I’ll be happy. If I iron your shirts and cook your favourites, I’ll be fulfilled.
If I sit through shows I loathe to prove a point, I’ll be rewarded.
”’ He fluttered a hand. ‘Enough already.’
Beth blinked. ‘How did you know I only watched Antiques Roadshow because Luke was obsessed with old junk? Fine, he probably fancied Fiona Bruce, but still…’
He smiled, soft as silk. Of course he knew. He heard the thoughts she didn’t say aloud and stitched them into something she needed.
‘I don’t think you’re here to play tonight,’ Gigi said. ‘Save your wishes. The dead weight of the past will crush them if you let it.’
She didn’t entirely understand, but the sense of it settled her. Save your wishes. Choose carefully. Choose yourself.
Beth nodded, sudden exhaustion washing over her. ‘Goodnight, Gigi.’
She climbed the stairs to her little room, closed the door and leaned against it. Below, the pub murmured on. And for the first time in a long while, the ache in her chest felt like space being made, rather than something being torn out.