Chapter 2
‘Morning, sunshine,’ Mam said, smiling at me as I joined her in her kitchen–diner three days later, still wearing my pyjamas and dressing gown despite it being almost half nine. ‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Like a log. I can’t remember the last time I had a lie-in.’
‘You obviously needed it. Probably shattered after the long journey.’
Maddie and I had spent most of yesterday travelling, the journey from Twyford to my childhood home at Parsley Meadows – a dairy farm a few miles north of the market town of Alnwick in Northumberland – being an epic eight hours door to door.
At Maddie’s request, we’d travelled by train so she could do some revision, but we’d had seats opposite each other and I’d seen her laptop screen reflected in the window.
I’m not sure how rewatching Heartstopper for the umpteenth time constituted revision and it wasn’t a stretch to conclude that the revision had been an excuse to avoid being trapped in the car with me and the need to actually talk.
‘I’d forgotten how peaceful it is here,’ I said to Mam as I looked out of the window across the fields.
‘Peaceful? You weren’t disturbed by the kids next door yelling and kicking a football at half six?’
‘No, but I’m guessing you were.’
She sighed as she poured me a mug of tea from the pot on the table. ‘Every single morning, Grace. Before school, at weekends and now, it seems, during the half-term holiday.’
Mam’s tone was weary and it wasn’t the first comment she’d made which suggested her recent house move might not have worked out as she’d hoped.
‘Big adjustment after so many years without neighbours?’ I asked.
‘Much bigger than expected and I’m not sure I’m adjusting very well. Maybe it’s just having three young boys next door. They’re so loud and boisterous. You and Hope were never like that when you were bairns.’
My sister, Hope, was two years younger than me and the pair of us had enjoyed what I’d call an idyllic childhood at Parsley Meadows.
Dad had been the farmer and Mam had assisted him around her job as a riding instructor at a nearby stables.
Hope and I had helped on the farm from the moment we could walk, had learned to ride from an early age and had always loved being around the animals and spending time outdoors.
I’d left home for university and hadn’t returned but Hope had stayed in the area after quite literally marrying the boy next door. Nick Gilmore had been raised on neighbouring Briar Stones Farm – a dairy and sheep farm – which he and Hope now ran together.
Following my dad’s sudden and unexpected death four years ago, Mam left her job at the stables to run Parsley Meadows but, without Dad by her side, her heart wasn’t in it.
Hope and Nick had helped her as much as they could and, a couple of years ago, Mam made them a proposal which they’d jumped at – the opportunity to double the size of Briar Stones Farm by buying the land, dairy herd and equipment from Parsley Meadows, leaving Mam with the farmhouse and several stone barns to convert into houses.
The original intention had been for Mam to stay put but she felt like she was rattling round in the large farmhouse on her own so she decided to sell that too and move into one of the conversions.
She’d loved it at first. But that was before the other properties were complete and the neighbours moved in.
‘Could you have a word with the parents?’ I asked Mam.
‘I thought about it but I don’t want to be that neighbour. I don’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable living here.’
‘I get that, but half six is ridiculously early. Hopefully it’s just half-term excitement and they’ll calm down and have a lie-in for the rest of the week.’
Mam held up her crossed fingers.
‘Is Maddie an early riser?’ she asked.
‘She used to be but it’s another thing that changed when she moved up to the sixth form. We probably won’t see her till lunchtime.’
‘Do you think she’d like to go out with us somewhere today?’
I shook my head. ‘With you, perhaps, but not with me.’
‘Things haven’t improved between you?’
‘If anything, they’ve got worse. I don’t—’
But Mam’s phone bursting into life cut me off.
‘It’s Edie Belmont,’ she said, picking it up. ‘She’ll be ringing with this week’s order. Won’t be long… Hi, Edie, how are you?’
I pointed to the ceiling and mouthed the word ‘shower’ before reaching for my mug of tea and taking it upstairs.
Mam might have said she wouldn’t be long but I knew what she was like when she got chatting to Edie.
They’d been friends since Mam was pregnant with me, having met at a prenatal class when Edie was also pregnant with her daughter.
Edie owned a café in Alnwick called Fine Fettle – a colloquialism meaning to be in good health or good spirits.
In recent years, arthritis in her hands had made it increasingly difficult for her to bake, but that had been a perfectly timed opportunity for Mam.
She’d always loved baking, creating impressive cakes for family birthdays and celebrations and winning prizes at the summer fete.
At a loss for something to do after selling the farm, she’d stepped in as the baked goods supplier to Fine Fettle and was in her element.
* * *
‘Good chat with Edie?’ I asked, joining Mam in the lounge after I’d showered and dressed.
‘Yes and no. She’s selling Fine Fettle. It’s too hard with her arthritis now. The new owners are taking over from the start of March and Edie asked them about keeping me on, but they’re doing the baking themselves.’
‘Aw, I’m so sorry, Mam.’
She shrugged. ‘I knew it would go that way at some point – just wasn’t expecting it quite so soon.’
Her tone was bright but it was clear to me that the news had hit her hard.
‘I think we could both use some cheering up,’ I said. ‘How about we go out and grab a pub lunch somewhere?’
Mam smiled. ‘Sounds good. Anywhere in mind?’
‘Let’s just drive and see where it takes us. I’ll see if Maddie wants to join us, but I doubt it.’
I knocked lightly on the door to Maddie’s bedroom. When there was no answer, I knocked again and opened it, the light from the window behind me casting a beam across Maddie’s face.
‘Urgh! Too bright!’ she cried, turning away from me.
‘Sorry. Your nanna and I are going out for a drive and a pub lunch and wondered if you’d like to join us.’
‘Sounds thrilling,’ she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘That would be a no.’
‘You don’t have to revise all day every day, you know.’
‘I’m not revising this morning. I’m sleeping. Or I was until an unwelcome visitor tried to burn my retinas.’
I winced at the use of unwelcome visitor. It was the perfect description of how I’d felt about my role in my daughter’s life for the past eighteen months.
‘We’ll be leaving in fifteen minutes if you change your mind.’
‘I won’t.’
I closed the door, a familiar feeling of loss engulfing me.
What had happened to my gorgeous, sunny girl?
We used to have such a close relationship but, when she went up to the sixth form, it was like a heavy cloud had descended, chased away her sunshine and replaced it with anger, sarcasm and contempt.
What I wouldn’t do to have that cloud blow over and things go back to how they used to be.