Chapter 6
? Little white lie
Twenty years later
As anticipated, Elle had initially rejected my idea to return to our old stomping ground to write the article in one of her trademark voice messages:
Elle (voice message):
Mally-Wally. Urgh. Not loving this idea. Why put yourself through it?
Please let me find somewhere less shit!
Standing up to her was never easy, but with the pressure on Elle to commission Christmas features, I knew I had a rare ace up my sleeve.
Eventually, we’d reached a compromise: Elle would do all the research and book me somewhere to stay in Scarnbrook, and all I had to do was figure out how to get there.
And I’d still be writing it under a pseudonym.
A week later, having tied up all my loose ends at work before the office closure, I was back in East Sussex, having convinced my parents to let me drive them to the airport for their Sunday afternoon flight. As far as they were concerned, the plan was this:
I’d give them a lift to Gatwick Airport in Dad’s car.
I’d drive back to theirs and housesit for a few days.
At some point, I’d get the train back to London for Christmas itself.
But the more I repeated this fake plan to myself to get my story straight, the more I was tempted to make it my actual plan.
The idea of holing up here in this picture-perfect cottage, surrounded by stunning countryside and not being perceived by anyone at all for days on end felt like absolute bliss.
Just imagine how many corny Christmas movies I could get through!
But the timing of the airport run and easy access to Dad’s car felt like yet another way fate was funnelling me towards Scarnbrook; travelling there on public transport would’ve been a monumental faff, with no useful train stations at the end of the journey.
Having a car would make it loads easier to get around while I was there and, most importantly, would mean I could leave whenever I wanted.
The holiday rental was booked for a full week, but I figured I’d only need to be there for two nights – three, max – to visit old haunts and write the article before getting out of there and back to normal life.
Deceiving my parents went against every single one of my instincts, but strictly speaking they had said I could use the car while I was at theirs. I just needed to remember to keep the fuel gauge at a similar level.
I got them to the airport in good time – unsurprising, given that Mum had insisted we leave four hours before the flight despite the fact it was only a forty-five minute journey – and enjoyed the solo drive back to the countryside with Radio X blaring, using the steering wheel as a makeshift drumkit.
Josh, who was travelling back to London later that day, was making himself some kind of fluorescent orange hot drink when I got back.
‘Want one?’ It could very well have been the first question he’d asked me in two decades.
‘Depends what it is. It looks like hot Lucozade or something?’
Was that a twitch of a smile? Nah, probably wind from his bean smoothie earlier – or whatever it was he poured down his throat each morning.
‘It’s turmeric and ginger tea.’
I instinctively mimed a gagging motion before catching myself halfway through and attempting to transform it into a cough.
‘No, thanks anyway, though.’
‘Fair enough. I’m going to be heading off soon, by the way – there’s a taxi coming to pick me up at ten thirty.’
‘Oh, really? I can drop you off at the station; it’s no bother.’
He took a small sip of his ‘tea’ and shook his head. ‘No, thanks. It’s actually taking me to my client’s place for a final session, then I’ll head back to London from there.’
‘Fair enough. The cab’s an electric car, I presume? Or hybrid at least?’
I could see his jaw clench in exactly the same way Mum’s sometimes did, but I couldn’t help myself. He hated being caught out in his own hypocrisies.
‘Well, it’s not ideal but—’
‘Josh, it’s okay – you don’t have to defend yourself to me; I couldn’t care less. But maybe give Dad a bit of an easier time on his car choices next time, hmm?’
‘Yeah, all right.’
I gave him a double thumbs up, but he looked at me blankly before turning away with his tea and gazing out the kitchen window.
‘Right, I’m going to jump in the shower as I didn’t get the chance before the airport run. You’ll probably be gone by the time I get back, so… merry Christmas, I guess! Oh, and you still haven’t told me how much I owe you for that wine.’
‘I’ll message you the details.’ Just like Mum, he didn’t even turn to face me as he spoke.
I trudged up the narrow staircase, the seventh one always catching me out with its ginormous creak.
Josh had left a modest-looking gift outside my bedroom door. To be fair, the calligraphic label – tied to the rectangular present with mustard-yellow string – was beautiful.
I grabbed the towel from the chair in my bedroom and headed to the bathroom for my shower. But then the freestanding bathtub caught my eye. Sod it, I was going to have a nice, long soak instead.
A few minutes later I sank into the water, which was hot enough for every nerve ending in my body to go ooh!
before they went aah , producing a satisfying all-over tingle.
I luxuriated in the bubbly depths for a good ten minutes, inhaling the lavender-scented oil.
Eventually, I heard the gentle crunching of a car on the gravel driveway outside and the thud of the front door closing.
I heaved myself into a sitting position and began to wash my hair. The smell of the highlight-activating shampoo, not that my single-tone mousy hair had any highlights to activate, reminded me of my mum. A rush of apprehension possessed me as I thought about the days ahead.
I knew my decision not to tell my family I was going back to Scarnbrook was the right one.
After all, it was the place that had crumbled our very foundations.
Plus, with Mum and Dad being out of the country for the first time in forever, they’d never need to know I’d even been back.
It felt like this would be the most opportune moment I’d ever get to return home.
Home.
Twenty years away and I still called it that. Thought of it like that. The question was, would it still feel like home after everything that had happened? I’d waited two decades to find out. It was now or never.