Chapter 52
When Chris came in from work that night, he kicked off his boots and dropped his bag and then disappeared upstairs to change.
Polly, grating cheese for a sauce, went to move the bag to the side, and as her fingers touched the handle she was filled
with a surge of anger that was almost too big for her to contain. She’d been here many times, she knew, and picking up this
bag and shifting it was just a little thing but one of many little things that had made her unhappy in this house. She had
walked out of it and then somehow stumbled into her own work of fiction and become the character who was ready to begin a
new life. But here she was back in the old one, like a snake that had crawled into its discarded skin and found the fit tight
and uncomfortable.
Will came round to see her that Sunday. He’d put Shauna off coming with him because he knew she just wanted to gawp. And an
absolute no to Auntie Camay, who was still smarting about the wedding that never was and was itching to let rip about it to
Polly’s face.
His dad was at the garage and had been all weekend—again.
Will had told him to take some time off and book a night away or a meal out, but Chris had said he was too busy.
He’d laughed when Will then suggested a holiday.
He said Polly was happy as she was. They’d have a holiday in a bit, when she was fully better.
Maybe. His dad was a fool who fooled no one.
He’d thrown a bunch of flowers and a box of dark chocolate at Polly and expected it to be enough glue to hold together the structural break.
Just like he’d done when he’d nearly lost her last year.
And how come his dad didn’t even know that Polly disliked dark chocolate?
“So you’re returning to work tomorrow.”
“Yes, I’m back to it.” She smiled at him.
“Have you heard from the people you were staying with in Shoresend?” asked Will, poking around in the cupboard for some biscuits.
“I had a text from Marielle to check that I was okay.”
Polly had replied that she was, with a “speak soon” tagged on the end, but she didn’t think she was up to calling her just
yet; it would feel too raw. She’d deliberately distanced herself, for a while at least, so she could get her head straight
in Polly’s world. But it was impossible to stop her thoughts wanting to fly to them, as they so often did.
“They seemed like good people,” said Will.
“They were very kind to me.”
“Have you told them at work what happened to you?”
Polly shook her head. She didn’t want to give Jeremy any ammunition to manipulate her. She was pretty sure her professional
capabilities weren’t affected, so there was no reason to have that conversation. She’d tackle it if it came up, but such information
given would be on a need-to-know basis.
“You love your job, don’t you?” said Will, thudding his body down on the chair at the table. “You’re lucky. I hate mine.”
“Then change it,” said Polly. “What is it you want to do?”
“Social work. I want to help kids,” said Will, his voice whispery because he half expected his dad to suddenly manifest in
the room and say, “ You must be bloody daft. ”
“Then why aren’t you doing it?”
“I’d have to get a degree first. Is it too late to start when everyone else my age is graduating?”
“You’re only twenty-one, Will. Even people older than me decide to go to university.” He opened his mouth to tell her something,
then pulled it back, but Polly reached over and shook his arm.
“Say what you were going to,” she insisted.
“Okay... I applied at Bournemouth for a place and I got in.”
“Then do it, Will,” said Polly. If ever someone was suited to a career helping kids in need, it was this caring boy.
“Dad would say I’m going backward.”
“You wouldn’t be going backward; you’re preparing for a running jump. Am I convincing you?”
Will smiled. “I want to be convinced. Living by the seaside would be nice, wouldn’t it?”
Polly remembered the hush of the sea and the gently foaming waves, the warm sand, the fresh salt air in her lungs, the seagulls
wheeling above her head.
“Yes, darling Will, it really is.”
Will swallowed a lump of emotion caught in his throat. He wished Polly could have been his real parent. He thought more of
her than he did his own combined. And he owed her. “Polly...” He had to say something, he had to tell her how it had been
before she left and why he thought she had packed up to go.
But this was his dad. And Will really wanted him to step up and make his relationship work. Polly was the best thing that
had ever happened to him. He didn’t want his dad to lose her again. Will didn’t want to lose her again.
“I... I know that Dad is glad you’re back. He’s not great at showing his feelings.”
“Thank you for that, Will,” she said. And she placed her hand on his cheek and he felt really shit then that he’d chickened
out from telling her how bad it had become.