Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
WREN
The weight of the new baby in Wren’s arms helped her feel the most grounded she’d been in days. Life may have been thrown into the air like shrapnel from a grenade, but while she sat by Libby’s hospital bed with little Margaret, she could pretend it didn’t matter where the pieces landed.
‘So, which Margaret is she named for? The princess or the prime minister?’ she asked Libby, not taking her eyes from the baby’s sleepy gaze.
‘The writer,’ said Libby, laughing. ‘You know I love a bit of Atwood. I’m earmarking this child as a future feminist warrior.’
Wren bounced Margaret a little in her arms and put on a sugary voice. ‘Baby’s going to smash the patriarchy, isn’t she?’ she crooned.
Margaret started to wriggle and fret, so Wren hastily passed her back to her mother.
Her mother . Libby soothed and hushed the baby, her face glowing through the tiredness. It had been so hard to picture it, when Margaret was still inside Libby, but now they looked picture perfect. A lump grew in Wren’s throat.
‘I’ve got the flat ready for you two,’ Wren said, coughing away the wobble in her voice. ‘For when you’re back from your mam’s.’
Libby’s mother had arrived like a whirlwind, shooing Wren and Alex away to take on her duties as birthing partner, and had insisted Libby would be staying with her for a few days after she left the hospital.
‘Oh, you’re a pet. Thank you.’ She reached over and squeezed Wren’s hand. ‘It might not be too long. She’s already driving me mad with advice. Apparently I need to get Margaret into a routine. That would be fine, if I’d ever had one myself.’
Wren laughed. ‘That’s true. I’ve never known anyone better prepared for chaos. But it’s all good to go, and I move into my new flat in a few days, so I’ll be out from under your feet. Unless you need me – any time, any day.’
Libby winced. ‘I’m sorry about your job, Wren. But you’ll find something new, I’m sure.’
‘I hope so. And I was just congratulating myself on getting a flat so close to work too.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Best made plans and all that. I just feel so guilty about the piece about the Community Kitchen. It was going to be a tribute to Edie, and now it’s for the shredder.’
‘I know, but it’s not your fault. Don’t beat yourself up about it. And you never know, you might still be able to use it.’
Wren tried to smile. ‘Thanks, Lib. But I think a local-interest piece won’t have as good a home as the local paper. And listen to you, being all motherly and reassuring. And so it begins, eh?’
Libby set about getting Margaret settled for a feed with the help of a friendly midwife. It made Wren think of her own mother, holding her in a hospital bed in her brief respite from addiction. She still felt there were questions unanswered now that Edie was gone. What had she planned to tell her? Maybe it had been nothing more than her dad had already explained, but it was as unknowable as the current location of her stolen necklace – ripped abruptly away and gone forever.
‘Anyway, I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to head up to the Community Kitchen and break the news that the piece isn’t happening. I’ll come back tomorrow though.’
She leaned down and kissed Libby on the cheek then headed out of the ward, down the stairs and into the car park. She was just heading for her newly repaired car when she saw Max, the author from the book launch at Cravenwick Pages, putting coins into the parking machine. He was holding a bunch of flowers and a balloon saying ‘It’s a Girl!’
Wren smiled to herself. It could be a coincidence. God knew, she’d witnessed one hell of a coincidence when Nick had appeared here at this very hospital. But judging by the way Max seemed to be giving himself a little pep talk, it didn’t look like it. It looked very much to Wren like there was a plan for Libby, and Max had been written into it. As she pulled away, she wondered when her own plan might start to come together.
It was late in the day when she got to the Community Kitchen and they were just wrapping up the evening service. There were a few diners sitting drinking cups of tea or coffee, maybe postponing the time before they needed to head back out to the streets or hostels, or wherever they may be spending the night. Her heart ached at the thought of her mam sitting here years ago, maybe with a bag full of the things she needed. Except for Wren. She hadn’t needed Wren enough to stay around for her.
She straightened her back and reminded herself she was here in a professional capacity, and went to find a familiar face. She found Ailsa in the education suite, tidying up the leaflets and displays.
‘Hello there, pet,’ she said, her face creasing into a tired smile. ‘It’s lovely to see you.’
‘Lovely to see you too,’ said Wren, allowing herself to be wrapped in an embrace. ‘How are you all doing?’
‘Oh, so-so. It’s still so strange without her around. I keep expecting to hear that snazzy designer cane clicking up behind me, but…’ Ailsa shrugged. ‘She has left quite the legacy though.’
‘She has,’ said Wren. ‘How will it be run now she’s gone?’
‘Well, we’ve had a sort of informal “board” of long-standing staff for a while. So, on we go.’
‘That’s good. Listen, Ailsa, I came to tell you… the piece for the paper. It won’t be happening anymore. The paper’s being closed down.’
‘Oh, Wren,’ she said, her face crumpling. She reached out and rubbed Wren’s arm. ‘You poor thing. What will you do?’
‘Don’t worry about me,’ Wren said, trying to smile. ‘I’m just so sorry the story isn’t going anywhere, especially since it would be such a fitting tribute to Edie.’
‘It’s a shame,’ said Ailsa, ‘but you know Edie would only be worried that you’re okay. She wouldn’t have minded one bit. You know what she was like, fending off the attention.’
‘Thanks for being so understanding. I’d like to come and volunteer sometime. If you’ll have me.’
Ailsa’s face lit up. ‘Of course we’d have you! Any time. You’re an old hand now anyway.’
Wren nodded. The idea of serving out food to those in need brought the image of her mother swimming back into her mind. It was never far away. Maybe Ailsa might know something.
‘Ailsa? Can I ask you a question?’
‘Yes, pet, what is it?’
Then the door to the education suite clattered open, and in walked Cath. She saw Wren and blinked. ‘Well, how’s that for a coincidence?’
‘Huh?’ said Wren.
‘I’ve not long had Nick in here, looking for you. Well, he was looking for a woman in a photo, to be precise, but when I mentioned your name, he went tearing off.’
‘Nick…?’ Wren felt like she was falling backwards down a tunnel. My Nick? What could he be doing looking for her here? Her expression must have showed her utter confusion.
‘Sorry, you might not have met. Nick is Edie’s grandson. He had a picture of a lady called Caron Rowbottom, and I told him you’ve got the same last name.’
What was happening? Wren’s head felt light with all this information. Nick, here at the Kitchen. And he was Edie’s grandson , Travis’s brother? The world seemed to expand and contract, bringing Capri closer and pushing Northumberland further away, until they collided in her mind. And now her mother’s name had been thrown into the mix.
‘I… I don’t understand.’
‘Are you okay?’ asked Ailsa, touching her shoulder and giving Cath a worried glance. ‘You’ve gone very pale.’
‘Um, yeah. I’m okay. I think. So… Nick is Edie’s grandson?’
They nodded.
‘And he came here with a picture of my mother?’
‘So that’s who it was,’ said Cath. ‘I didn’t know who she was, my darling, but when I told him about you, he took off. I told him you worked at the paper. He hasn’t been gone too long.’
Wren stood, open-mouthed, for a moment, staring at the two women, who peered back as if she might need psychiatric intervention.
‘Um, I think I need to go.’
She drove towards Cravenwick, her fingers drumming the steering wheel, her lips clamped between her teeth. The Echo . The idea that he could be there right now and had been right at the tip of her fingers all this time rocked her. Her heart fluttered as she pulled into the high street. She headed for her normal parking spot opposite Cravenwick Pages and got out of the car shakily. Locking the car, she glanced up at the shop.
As she got closer, she frowned. The lights were on upstairs. No. That isn’t lights . She broke into a run as she saw smoke wisping from the window and rolls of dark clouds billowing from the open door. A cluster of teenagers hovered outside, one of them on the phone, speaking excitedly to the emergency services.
‘Oh God,’ she moaned, her hands in her hair, looking up at the building. ‘Oh God, what’s happened?’
‘It’s on fire.’ A sallow-faced teen girl wearing a hoodie over a skater dress looked at her as if she was a moron.
Wren stared at her, unable to form a reply – then she heard her name being called.
‘Wren!’ It was muffled and distant, and she looked around to see where it was coming from. ‘Wren!’
‘Some man just went in there. Thinks there’s a woman inside,’ said the teen blandly, looking up at the glowing window.
Her name emanated from within again, and with a rush of horror, she recognised the voice. The same one that had echoed through a cave in Capri, in another world. Without even a pause, she ran into the building, the teens shouting after her to stop.
‘Nick! Nick! I’m here!’
She could see nothing through the smoke and coughed painfully. Covering her mouth, she went deeper inside, towards the door to the upstairs.
‘ Wren ? Wren, I can hear you – where are you? I can’t get to you,’ came a voice from above.
She stood at the bottom of the stairs, clinging to the doorway. ‘I’m here, Nick – I’m down here! Come down – we need to get out!’
There was a series of dull thuds, then a pair of hands reached for her through the dark. She took hold of them and pulled him towards the door. Seconds later, they emerged into the street, grabbing at each other, making sure they were whole. She looked up at his smoke-stained face, and he gazed back, blinking and panting.
‘You’re okay,’ he said, putting his hands on her face, as if checking she was real.
She touched his face too, staring up at a man who would dive into a fire for her. She’d dived into a fire for him too. She was dimly aware of sirens.
Then, just as they stood there staring at each other, there was an immense roaring, whooshing sound, and the window above burst open, the heat and pressure within causing it to explode. Tiny cubes of glass rained down on top of them, landing on their hair and clothes, scattering around their feet like a halo. Wren felt a flicker of recognition, one she was too disoriented to process, then felt a tug on her elbow. It was only when the firefighters pulled them away from each other that she allowed herself to let go.