Chapter 39
FLORENCE
We’re knocking on Mum’s front door. My heart is thumping in my chest.
Mum is not lonely, I keep telling myself. She would have told me.
The thought of her feeling like she’s unable to confide in me is too upsetting to think about.
That nagging doubt has returned, and I wish it would leave me alone. The one telling me Mum hasn’t been acting like herself for a while. Was she trying to confide in me?
Why did she have to write to Jane’s podcast?
Mum opens the door and her face is the picture of surprise. ‘Florence and Clark – is everything all right?’
She’s dressed in a sweatshirt and leggings, but she doesn’t look herself. The absence of the gold earrings is unsettling.
‘Hello, Mum, can we come in?’
She smiles. ‘Of course.’
We step inside and I steal a glance at Dad’s old coat still hanging on the hook by the door.
I follow her through the hallway and past the dent in the wall made by Dad.
He’d been moving a new sofa and accidentally swung the wooden arm into the wall.
It always makes me smile. I trail my fingers over the dent.
As we pass the living room, Clark gestures to the door. ‘I’ll be in here. You two need to talk alone.’
As I enter the kitchen, my eyes flick to the wall where Dad’s photos hang in a pretty constellation of frames. They always calm me when I come to see Mum. I helped to put them up, buying lots of little white frames and filling them with pictures of Dad. There were so many to choose from.
I stop and stare at the empty wall.
‘Where are Dad’s photos?’
She casts me a pained look. ‘I’ve taken them down.’
‘What? Why?’ My chest starts to ache.
Mum hangs her head. ‘He’s not coming back, Florence.’
‘I know that but where are the photos?’
She lets out a heavy sigh. ‘They were becoming a sad reminder for me.’
‘A sad reminder?’ I gasp. ‘Dad?’
When she lifts her face to mine, I can see that her eyes are pink and watery. ‘I need to move on with my life. I will always love him but…’
My irritation spikes. ‘Is this Steve’s doing? Does he want you to take all the photos down? I knew he was trouble.’
Mum shakes her head. ‘No, Florence.’
‘You don’t have to do whatever Steve says.’
‘He’s not said anything,’ she groans. ‘In fact, he’s been really supportive.’
I sit down on a stool and stare at the empty wall. ‘You can’t do this, Mum.’ I place my face in my hands.
‘Florence, I have to move on, or I am going to go batty.’
‘But you will forget him.’
She comes over to me and puts her arms over my shoulders. ‘I will never forget your father.’
I blink away tears and remember the podcast. ‘Are you lonely, Mum?’
‘Why do you say that?’
Wiping my eyes, I turn to face her. ‘Tell me – are you lonely?’
She flicks her gaze to the floor. ‘Yes, I am.’
Blood rushes past my ears and my heart grinds to a halt. I stare at her in horror. ‘I know about that podcast.’
She lifts her gaze to me. ‘You heard it?’
‘Why did you write in to Jane? Why didn’t you tell me?’
Mum sighs. ‘I’ve been trying to tell you for a long time but…’
I stare at her. ‘But what?’
She runs an anxious hand through her hair. ‘You’ve had a lot on your mind and I understand. I really do.’
‘I haven’t, Mum,’ I exclaim. ‘I always make time…’ My mind creates a handy showreel of all the times I’ve been quick to either get Mum off the phone or to encourage her to drink her coffee speedily so I can get back to the café.
‘You’re always busy at work, and whenever I speak to you, it’s always after or during an argument with Clark.’ She rubs my shoulder. ‘You’re busy. You’ve also been through a lot this last year.’
A wave of guilt crashes over me. ‘Mum… I…’ I can’t get my words out. ‘Mum, you should have said something.’
‘I have tried, Florence. Believe me. You also won’t accept that I’m friendly with Steve.’
Hearing his name makes me let out a wail of frustration. ‘I knew he would be at the heart of this.’
Her eyes are narrowing, and her face has turned shadowy. ‘Do you have any idea what it’s been like for me since your father died?’
Her face goes blurry. I shake my head.
‘This house is full of painful reminders. It’s a museum of him. I don’t have a job so all I do is wander around trying not to look at photos, coats on the hooks and his favourite mug when I want a cup of tea.’
‘But… but…’
‘I can’t go on living like this, Florence. I’m fifty-eight, and I feel like life is passing me by.’ She pulls a stool to the table and sits beside me. ‘Steve came into my life last year. When I talk to him, he listens, and he makes me laugh. Florence – I haven’t laughed properly in a long time.’
I feel like my inner world is collapsing.
I also feel like the world’s worst daughter. Why haven’t I been there for her?
‘Do you want to know something, Florence?’
‘What?’
‘I am going on that holiday to Tenerife with Steve. You can say whatever you want, but I am going.’ She has a determined look on her face, and it makes me feel uneasy.
I reach out and touch her hand. ‘But I won’t be there to look after you.’
‘Florence, I’m not eighteen!’
‘I know that.’
Her face softens. ‘He’s booked us separate rooms if you must know.’
‘Oh,’ I mumble.
‘He’s a good man, Florence. You need to let me have my freedom.’
Tears stream down my face. ‘Mum… I’m sorry. I don’t want you to get hurt.’
She wipes my eyes with a tissue. ‘But that’s not a life for me or you, Florence. I don’t want to be wrapped up in cotton wool any more.’
I glance at the empty wall. ‘I miss Dad so much.’
She pulls me into a hug. ‘I know you do, my girl. You’re also still hurting from losing your baby.’
Tears pour out of me.
‘I wish Dad were still here,’ I sob.
‘I know,’ she soothes. ‘We all do, but he’s not coming back. Florence, you and I need to rebuild our little world. He wouldn’t want us sitting around pining for him.’
I nod and sob. She’s right. Dad was a man of action. He hated people sitting around with nothing to do.
‘When I get back from Tenerife, I’m going to get a job as well,’ Mum says.
I lift my head from her shoulder. ‘Really?’
She smiles. ‘I am a grown woman who needs to get back out into the world.’
‘I’m sorry, Mum. For everything.’
She smooths down my hair. ‘I will always know where you are if I need you.’
‘Please be careful on this holiday?’
‘You will like Steve. I promise.’
I dry my eyes. ‘I need to go and get Clark.’
She strokes my hair. ‘I love you, Florence.’
Once we step outside my house, I pull Clark into my arms. ‘Thank you.’
‘For what?’ he asks with a wry smile.
‘For being assertive with me. Mum and I needed to talk.’ I lean in and kiss him.