26
I drop my bottle of Rescue Remedy into my bag along with my notes on Thursday morning.
I’ve read them so many times, they’re imprinted on my brain.
It’s the morning of my interview and I’ve crammed every evening this week.
I’ve gone over every library plan and policy and I could recite them in my sleep.
I know I deserve this promotion, but my hands are still shaking when Sarah hands me a coffee as I climb into the passenger seat of her car.
‘Don’t take off the lid,’ she says as I reach to twist it up. ‘The last thing you need is a dirty brown stain down your front.’ She waits until I take a sip before she pulls out. ‘You look great by the way. You should wear suits more often. And heels.’
‘Can you see me doing story time wearing this?’ I laugh as I picture myself trying to touch my head, shoulders, knees, and toes.
‘Or up a stepladder hanging our latest crochet creation?’ I look down at my crisp white shirt and tailored navy skirt.
I liked what I saw when I checked my reflection in the landing mirror this morning, but I can’t wait to peel this off later and kick back on the couch in a slouchy top and sloppy jeans.
Sarah’s parked outside when I walk down the steps of the council offices afterwards. I told her I’d get a taxi, but she insisted on waiting.
‘How did it go?’ she asks as she pushes open the passenger door.
‘Tough. I did my best. Not sure it was enough but I’ll find out on Monday.’ I sink back in my seat. Gemma grilled me in the hallway on my way out, and I know Gertrude and Ella will be itching to do the same as soon as I get back. But for now, I’d rather switch off.
‘Well, it’s done, and I’m sure you were great,’ Sarah says as if she’s reading my mind. ‘Close your eyes and catch your breath.’ She switches the radio on low, and I lean back in her comfy passenger seat and hum along to Taylor Swift in my head.
‘You want to share a bottle of wine later, watch one of your old movies?’ she asks as we pull up outside Hazel Cottage. ‘It’s your last night here, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah.’ I look out at the pretty stone cottage, and a pang of loneliness hits me in the chest. I’ve only been living here a few weeks but they’ve been the happiest weeks of my life since Flynn left all those years ago. Now they feel like a faraway dream floating away from me as I wake.
‘That’s okay,’ I say. ‘I need to finish packing and tidy the place up. I’ll probably have an early night when I’m done.’
Sarah narrows her eyes, tilts her head. ‘Okay, if you’re sure you don’t want company.’
‘I’ll be fine, thanks.’ I probably will watch a movie, but Sarah doesn’t need to spend her evening watching me work my way through a bumper box of tissues. She’s done more than enough, and anyway, that was always Flynn’s role.
‘Where’s Cal?’ I ask Mam in her kitchen on Friday evening, after I’ve spent five minutes hugging her. I’m not sure why I assumed she was bringing him home with her, but I did.
‘Scotland, of course.’ She smiles. ‘He needed to get home and check up on his business. And I need time with my daughter.’ She picks up the kettle and heads for the sink.
‘Right, first things first, I want a good strong Irish cup of tea. You sit down and tell me what you’ve been up to since you got back. How did your interview go?’
‘I think it went well, but I won’t know until Monday, so I’m going to put it out of my head for the weekend.
’ I take the kettle from her hand and usher her back to her seat at the small kitchen table.
‘Now you sit down, you’re the one who’s been travelling all day, and you’re the one with the exciting stories to tell. ’
I might have a few of my own, but I’m not ready to tell my mother about my shag Flynn plan or give her a blow-by-blow account of how that played out. ‘I’ll make the tea, and you can fill me in on your adventures and tell me more about that handsome Scotsman you picked up along the way.’
‘Seems pretty serious between you two,’ I say, when we’re settled on Mam’s living room couches. Cal has featured in every one of her stories and he’s in most of the photos we’ve scrolled through on her phone.
Her face lifts, eyes bright. ‘We had a lovely time together.’ She smiles shyly. ‘It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted someone’s company in that way.’ I notice she’s watching me closely, gauging my reaction.
‘I’m looking forward to meeting him.’ I take a steadying breath.
I need to ask the next question but I don’t want her to take it the wrong way.
‘Are you sure you don’t mind me staying here?
’ I shift against the cushions as I watch her carefully.
‘You might like the place to yourselves, you and Cal.’
Mam blinks at me. ‘He’s only coming for the weekend, Gracie.’ She smiles. ‘And he’s mostly coming to meet you. And for the festival. He can’t wait to dress up and sing a ghostly Scottish sea shanty for the Samhain session.’
It doesn’t feel like the right time to mention that I’m not planning to be at the Corner Bar, that I’ll be hanging out with the teenagers, watching Twilight instead.
‘I thought he’d be here for longer,’ I say. Part of me hopes Cal will fall for Oakwood the same way he seems to have fallen for Mam. ‘But I’m sure the Scottish Highlands are beautiful too. Are you planning to visit soon?’
‘After Christmas.’ She blinks again. ‘I thought I’d told you that.’
‘I thought you’d want to go sooner.’
‘No.’ Mam stretches on the couch. ‘I’ve missed this. Oakwood, my little house, you.’
‘I’ve missed you too.’ I’ll miss her more if she moves to Scotland, but I want her to be happy, and it will be easier for her to move on if she sees I’m moving on too.
‘I wish I’d been here when you came home, love. It must have been hard. You and Jamie were together a long time.’
‘I don’t want to talk about Jamie, Mam.’ She offered to come home from her trip when I told her Jamie and I were finished, but it was the first time since Dad died that she really had something for her. ‘And I was fine, honestly. I had Sarah.’
‘And Flynn,’ she says softly.
I hear the question in her tone but I’m not sure how to answer.
‘I’m glad he’s back,’ she adds. ‘You two were always so close.’
‘Not always,’ I say quietly. ‘He was gone for ten years.’ And he’ll be gone again soon.
She gives me an understanding nod. ‘I know, love, and I know that was hard for you. But I’m glad he’s back.’ She takes a sip of her tea, and her eyebrows lift with a question as she adds, ‘It was kind of him to let you stay in Hazel Cottage.’
‘Yeah, that was handy,’ I deflect. ‘But it’s good to be home. For a little while anyway. Until I find a place of my own.’
Mam does a double take. ‘But there’s no need. You can stay here as long as you want.’
‘I know, but I might ask for a transfer if I get my promotion. There’s a position in Abbeyville, and I think Gemma will support me if I let her know I’m interested.’
And I won’t see reminders of Flynn everywhere.
‘Everybody else is moving on,’ I say, as much to myself as to Mam. ‘Sarah and Scott might go to Australia. They’re thinking about it.’ Well, Scott is, at least. ‘Maybe it’s time I moved on too. I know Abbeyville is not very far, but it’s a start.’
Mam leans back on her couch and peers at me hard. ‘But you love Oakwood.’
I shrug. ‘Sometimes you have to let go of the things you love in order to move on.’
‘And sometimes you have to fight for them, Gracie.’
‘You can’t fight for someone if they’re not here, if they don’t want to be.’
‘You mean your dad.’
A sad look clouds her face, and I feel guilty.
I was talking about Flynn but now I realise I’ve dragged up old memories, painful ones, for both of us.
I swallow hard. Mam’s just back from her first real break in years, and I wanted to keep things light and carefree for her.
But I don’t feel very light, or carefree, right now.
I’m about to say sorry, we don’t need to talk about it, when she says, ‘We really should talk more about him. About what happened.’
‘We don’t need to.’ Not if it causes her pain. That’s the last thing I want.
‘We do, Gracie. I’m sorry I haven’t wanted to go there before. Those things people said. I was so hurt that people would say that, and I didn’t want to put that on you.’
‘I was hurt too.’ It’s the first time I’ve told her. ‘But I didn’t realise you knew, so I didn’t want to put that on you.’
Mam gives me a rueful smile. ‘We’re more alike than I realised.’ She sighs, but it’s more wistful than sad. ‘I always think you’re so like your dad.’
‘Is that hard for you?’ It’s a question I’ve always wondered but never asked. ‘It must be like looking at him sometimes. I have the exact same hair, and his green eyes.’
Her cheeks lift. ‘And his bright sunny smile.’ She shakes her head. ‘No, it’s not hard. It’s wonderful, Gracie. He was wonderful.’ She reaches over and takes my hand. ‘He loved you so much, you know. All he ever wanted was for you to be happy.’
‘I know.’ At least I think I do.
‘And he didn’t leave us, Gracie. He was taken. But even if he had, that wouldn’t mean he didn’t love us. Sometimes people leave because they don’t feel they have a choice. It doesn’t mean they don’t care.’
I nod. ‘But then we should let them go, shouldn’t we?’
Mam peers at me. ‘We’re not talking about your dad now, are we?’
‘No.’
‘It depends,’ she says gently. ‘You can’t choose – not fully – unless you know what your options are.’ She tilts her head. ‘Gracie, you know it’s okay to ask for what you want.’
But sometimes, I want too much, expect too much. I don’t say that, because I don’t want her to worry, and it’s the first time we’ve talked about Dad in ages, and I get the feeling she’d like to talk more.
‘Could we look through that photo album again, the one from when I was little?’
Mam’s eyebrows draw together. I know it’s not really what she meant, but I’m not ready to talk about Flynn, and it is me asking for something I want. Small steps.
‘Of course.’ Her face brightens and I breathe a sigh of relief that I haven’t upset her, and that she seems happy for us to share more memories of Dad. She reaches for her phone. ‘And I must show you what I came across when I was in Paris.’
She scrolls through her photos and clicks on one of Dad, holding an oversized picture book with five bright orange pumpkins dancing across the front.
He’s singing the pumpkin song at the top of his voice as I squeal and grab at the pages.
I’d forgotten she had that. We used to look at it all the time before he died, and Dad would laugh as he recounted how my excited squeals almost drowned out his singing. We even showed it to Flynn.
‘You were looking at that in Paris?’
She smiles. ‘I wanted to show Cal.’ She hesitates. ‘He makes me happy, Gracie, but that doesn’t mean I want to forget Jimmy. I wanted to share those memories because they make me happy too, even when they make me sad.’
It’s the first time in a while that I’ve heard her say his name, she usually says your dad, and I like that she knows it’s okay to remember that she lost him too.
I smile back. ‘Do you have any more?’
We spend the rest of the evening leafing through her album and scrolling through more photos, talking and remembering. And I feel lighter, like a weight has lifted from my heart. Because Mam’s right, I do know Dad loved us, but I needed this conversation, these memories, to really feel it again.
And I realise that choosing to listen to the likes of Moll and Barty made me doubt, and hold myself back, when I should have opened up to Mam and told her how I was feeling.
When I should have listened to my own instincts, and to real friends, like Flynn and Pat.
I always knew deep down that Dad loved me.
I just needed to listen to what I knew to be true, in my own heart.
And I need to start doing that more from now on.