Chapter 37
“Well, this is a nice impromptu surprise,” said Marielle the next morning in the tea shop. “What’s the occasion?”
“Nothing, I just fancied having a breakfast special here, and I thought who better to share it with than my fabulous friend?”
said Sylvie.
“But she wasn’t available so you asked me.” Marielle grinned.
Sylvie grinned back. What a gorgeous, kind woman her old pal was; she deserved much better than she got.
“How’s Tim?” Marielle asked, looking at the tea menu. How could she possibly choose between forty variations?
“Rampant as always,” said Sylvie.
Marielle hooted. “Are you complaining?”
“I certainly am not,” said Sylvie adamantly. “I consider myself very lucky. Not sure what’ll happen when I start losing it
and dribbling, but I’m enjoying myself for now.”
“You shouldn’t be wondering about what’s to come when you have no need,” said Marielle. “I wouldn’t have wanted to even consider
that Sal would leave me a young widow. You have to believe you’ll live forever.”
Sylvie smiled sympathetically. She’d never met Salvatore, which was just as well really because she didn’t do “lovable cads.” A cheat was a cheat in her book, and they weren’t to be forgiven.
But it wasn’t her judgment call. Marielle had been happy with him in those last years, and Salvatore had finally realized what he had in her.
The breakfast special arrived, three tiers of cake plates with warm croissants, pain au chocolat , and cinnamon whirls on the bottom, potato rosti cakes with bacon and poached eggs in the middle, and scrambled eggs with
avocado and tiny glasses filled with various yogurts and muesli on the top.
“We’ll never eat all this,” said Marielle.
“Let’s give it our best shot,” replied Sylvie, cutting into a croissant and smothering it with honey butter. “How are things
with you? Any news about the Ciaoissimo bastards?”
“No. Sadly they haven’t gone bankrupt and no freak meteorite has landed on their property.”
“Nothing more from Cilla?”
“No also to that. I think we’re best staying away from each other for the time being.”
“How’s the lodger? Has she managed to remember anything else?”
“Bits and bobs,” replied Marielle, with an unconscious sigh that Sylvie registered. “Not enough to get her back to where she
should be.”
“I hope she isn’t outstaying her welcome. She’s been there longer than anyone else has.” Sylvie bit down on her croissant
with unaccustomed savagery.
“Not at all,” replied Marielle. If it hadn’t been for that missing purse, she thought she could have quite happily let Sabrina
stay in the flat forever. She had been such unassuming, gentle company, at least before it had gone wrong. She had even tried
to forget it and move on. There was only thirty pounds in the purse, and when she’d rung the bank to stop her card, they’d
told her no one had attempted to use it. She wished now she’d just had a conversation with her face-to-face about it before
it had gotten so big in her head. She was too soft; everyone was right about her, that she gave people far too much scope
to hurt her.
“You know you can talk to me about anything in confidence if you ever need to,” said Sylvie, suddenly serious.
“I know,” replied Marielle. “And the same goes for me with you.”
“I would always turn to you first,” said Sylvie, glancing upward at the clock on the wall. They’d be there now. By the time
they finished this breakfast, Marielle’s problem, the one she wouldn’t share with them because she was likely too embarrassed
about it, would be long gone.
Sabrina felt stupidly cheerful that morning, as if some of yesterday’s early sunshine had lodged inside her and was sloshing
around, and it was all the fault of Teddy Bonetti. Though he hadn’t really done much to cause her to feel as if she had springs
in her shoes, other than to say he had enjoyed spending the day with her and he liked her.
He had driven her home last night and she thought he might have kissed her on the cheek as she said good night, but he didn’t.
But she could see that he wanted to and had held back for the reasons he had mentioned in the restaurant—and that was enough
to make her smile all the way up the stairs to the flat like a teenage girl whose heart started thudding every time she caught
so much as a glimpse of a certain teenage boy. She smiled all the way through her shower and through the cup of tea she made
in an effort to unwind, because the fizz in her veins wouldn’t be letting her go to sleep anytime soon.
When she did get to bed, she wondered if the translation of all those stutterings was that he meant she had a place in this
life if the other one—the real one—turned out to be somewhere she didn’t want to go back to. After all, she’d left it, hadn’t
she? But had she left it? Forever?
She couldn’t stay in this limbo for much longer.
Whatever was trying to protect her had done its duty; now it had to let her into the truth of who Sabrina Anderson was.
Whatever bad stuff was behind the door, her daughter was there too, and if that meant she had to break it down to find her again, then so be it.
She was strong enough now, she was sure of it.
The last thing she’d done that night was pray.
“Dear God, I’m ready to know everything now. Please help me.” That was all she needed to say to him if he was listening.
She was just getting her shoes on for work when the flat doorbell rang. She walked down the stairs to answer it. She opened
the door just a little to see who it was, but as soon as she had, it was pushed hard from the other side and Diana, whom she’d
met in the fish-and-chip restaurant when she and Marielle had had lunch there, barged in, followed by three other women.
“Good morning,” said Diana. “Can we have a word? It’s about Marielle.”
“Of course,” said Sabrina, slightly confused because Diana didn’t sound half as friendly as she had the last time they’d met.
She went back up the stairs into the flat with the women following behind her.
“Lovely in here, isn’t it?” said Jackie, looking around.
“Yes, but everyone Marielle lets into it seems to take advantage,” said Diana. Sabrina didn’t know what to say to that, but
the air was full of threat and she hadn’t a clue why.
“Now, Marielle won’t tell you this herself, so I’m charged with doing it for her,” said Diana, hard-smiling. “Kindly pack
up your things and leave.” She turned to her left. “Jackie.” Jackie pulled an envelope out of her pocket and handed it to
Sabrina.
“There’s two hundred quid in there. The bus stop is on the front just by the deck chair rental; you’ll need the number sixty-four.
There’s a women’s refuge in Slattercove. Beach Street, easy enough to remember, but I’ve written it on the envelope. Ask the
bus driver to tell you when to get off.”
Sabrina’s head began to whirl. “Marielle wants me to leave?”
“Got it in one,” said Bev, who wasn’t smiling in any shape or form.
So it wasn’t her imagination then. Marielle had been off with her. Had she outstayed her welcome and she hadn’t dared tell her? What else could it be?
“Of course I’ll go.”
“Aren’t you even going to ask why?” asked Diana, taking the fact she hadn’t as a sure sign of guilt.
“Does Marielle feel that I’ve taken advantage of her? I never wanted that to happen.” The women looked at each other, exchanging
amused glances.
“Just get your stuff,” said Diana. “We’ll wait.”
Sabrina felt as if something had reached inside her and scooped out her center. Her thoughts were tumbling over themselves
trying to work out what she’d done to Marielle that was so bad she couldn’t say it to her face but had sent a posse of people
round to speedily evict her. She walked into the bedroom and picked up the black bag she’d been putting her dirty laundry
in and loaded it with her work clothes and her blue ensemble that she’d worn to go on the Ciaoissimo trail with Teddy. It
didn’t take long to collect all her worldly possessions, and they all fit in that one bag. She exited the room for the last
time, leaving the envelope on the bed. She had no idea what this was all about, but she had done nothing to be paid off for.
She walked past the file of women, feeling their eyes boring into her. They followed her down the stairs and out the front
door. It was raining heavily, and Sabrina’s charity-shop blue jacket wouldn’t afford her much protection, but it was hard
for any of the women to find sympathy for her. They were all thinking a variation of As ye sow, so shall ye reap.
“Bus stop’s just down there,” said Diana, pointing.
“I’ll take the key, thank you.” Sabrina put it in her awaiting palm, and Diana’s fingers snapped shut on it like a Venus flytrap.
She started walking, then turned back to find them all waiting to make sure she’d gone.
“I really don’t know what I’ve done to upset Marielle, but would you please just tell her that I’m so grateful for what she did for me. I’ll pay her back every single penny.”
Well, if that isn’t an admission, what would be? they all thought collectively.
“On your way now,” said Diana, shooing her off like the rubbish she was.
“Let’s have another cup of tea,” said Sylvie.
Marielle laughed. “Sylvie, I can’t fit another drop in. And why do you keep looking at the clock? Have you had enough of me?”
“I don’t, do I?” Sylvie replied with a laughing apology. Her phone beeped in her bag and she reached down to pull it out.
She read the text she’d been waiting for.
She’s gone.
Sylvie shoved it back in her bag and prepared to lie. “From Tim. Do I fancy going out for dinner? he says. I don’t think so.
I’ll still be digesting this till Christmas.”
“It was a real treat. Thank you,” said Marielle.
“You deserve it. You’re a lovely friend. Far too nice for your own good.”
Marielle laughed. “Okay, what are you after?”
“Nothing. And I mean it.” Sylvie leaned over the table, put her extra-serious face on, placed her hand over Marielle’s, and
said, “Darling, I know.”
“Know what?” said Marielle.
“I know that Sabrina took your purse.”
Marielle’s face dropped. She looked mortified. “I see. And now you’re going to tell me I’m the biggest fool to walk God’s
earth, aren’t you?”
“I am so not. You have the biggest heart of anyone I know, and you did more than your duty for her, but it’s up to her now to sort herself out.”
Sylvie waved over the waitress for the bill, and as Sylvie was getting out her bank card, Marielle’s brain started to spin.
“Hang on, how did you know?” she asked her friend.
“I bumped into Flick in the post office yesterday. She was very upset. She told me and I’m afraid that I couldn’t sit back
and do nothing. I—”
This was getting weirder. “How did Flick know?”
“Cilla told her. They had lunch together on Sunday and apparently it came out in a bit of a row.”
Marielle’s features squeezed further into an expression of utter confusion.
“What came out?”
“About your purse going missing. Cilla made her swear not to say anything, though, and I had to convince Flick that she wouldn’t
go to hell for telling me and breaking an oath—”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute.” Marielle pressed her fingertips into her temples, thinking hard, backtracking, putting events
in order. “No, no, that’s not right. That can’t be.”
“What’s the matter?” Sylvie asked her.
“Sylvie, I didn’t tell anyone about the purse when I couldn’t find it. No one. If I was going to tell anyone, it would have
been you, and I certainly wouldn’t have said anything to Cilla about it. I’ve only spoken to her the once recently anyway,
when she came up to the house to tell me off the day we went to see Psychic Pat, so this doesn’t make any sense because I
didn’t even know it was missing until long after she’d left...”
Her voice trailed off as she replayed the scene of Cilla’s visit in her head.
Cilla barking at her, Marielle wanting to make peace with some tea.
She’d filled up the kettle and put it on.
Then she’d opened up the cupboard, hunting around for the best mugs and the matching plate for some biscuits.
She would have had her back to Cilla throughout.
She’d only discovered her purse wasn’t in her bag five minutes before she and Sabrina were going out the door that evening.
“Sylvie, there is only one way Cilla could have known about my purse.”
“Oh God, Marielle,” said Sylvie. It was her turn now to look mortified.