Reluctantly Home(30)

She immediately thought of Jez. He clearly knew a little about the family, and Pip was pretty sure he wouldn’t care why she wanted to know. Plus, it would give her the chance to spend some time with him. After their encounter in the kitchen, she thought she might be ready for that, enjoy it even.

As the day drew to a close, Pip decided that she would spend the evening in her bedroom with the diary. She wasn’t really up to sitting with her parents. They would ask how she was after Dominic’s departure and she didn’t want to get into that.

When she arrived in the kitchen for dinner later that evening, though, there was something in the air. Her parents exchanged glances as they sat down, and Pip knew at once there was something they wanted to say.

She didn’t have to wait long.

‘Your dad and I have been talking,’ her mother began as she served the fish pie on to three plates.

‘Oh yes?’ replied Pip shortly, without looking up.

‘Well . . . ’ her mother continued doubtfully.

She paused, and a heavy silence hung over the table. Pip waited for her to spit whatever it was out. She hated the fact that they must have been talking about her when she wasn’t there, hated that there was anything to talk about.

‘It’s just,’ her mother tried again. ‘We were thinking that, maybe . . .’ Her mother’s eyes found Pip’s father’s, and she gave him an imploring look.

He seemed to take the hint and picked up the baton. ‘What your mum’s trying to say is that we were wondering whether now would be a good time to have a bit of a chat about your plans. For the future,’ he clarified.

What plans? Pip had no immediate plans, other than to retreat to her room and read the diary.

‘It’s just that with . . . Well, with everything that happened at the weekend, we thought maybe we should go down and collect your things, bring them back home. Obviously you could move back to London, if you wanted to, eventually.’

‘Of course I’m moving back to London,’ Pip snapped. ‘I can’t stay here.’

Her words came out more harshly than they ought to have done, and Pip saw hurt cut across her mother’s face.

‘No, no. Of course you can’t,’ her mother agreed, pivoting on the spot and following Pip’s lead. ‘We know that. But just for now, just whilst you’re getting better.’

‘We don’t want you having the stress of finding a new flat, not at the moment,’ her father added. ‘How about me and Jez go down in the van, collect your bits and pieces and bring it all back here for now?’

‘It’s not fair to leave all your things with poor Dominic,’ her mother said.

Pip pressed her lips together to stop herself from screaming at them. Poor Dominic? Poor Dominic! Would this be the same Dominic who had kicked her when she was at her lowest ebb, who had abandoned her without a second thought for all her hopes and dreams?

But what would be the point of exploding at her parents? They were trying to do what they thought was best for her, and she was going to have to retrieve her belongings sooner or later. It might be less painful if her father did it for her.

So she swallowed hard and said, ‘That would be great, Dad. Thanks.’ Then she put her knife and fork down and got to her feet. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t got much of an appetite. I think I’ll go upstairs for a bit of a lie-down,’ she said quietly. ‘Thanks for dinner, Mum.’

She could hear her parents’ concerned whispering as she left the kitchen and headed up the stairs to her cramped little room.

Her father had said that he was going to bring her things ‘home’. He had meant nothing by it. Home was just the farm, where he had lived all his life. A safe haven, a port in a storm, the centre of his world. But for Pip the word was spring-loaded like a mouse trap. She had spent years ensuring that she could leave, working hard to earn her ticket out. And now, now they were going to suck her back to the very place she’d been trying to escape. It was like the pull of a whirlpool, and swim as hard as she could, she couldn’t seem to get out of it and back to safety. And not only that – they saw it as a good thing, that they were doing her a favour by bringing her ‘home’.

If Pip could have cried, then she would have done.





17


Pip retrieved the 1983 diary from its hiding place between a couple of other books on her shelves, sat back on her bed and began to read.

Evelyn seemed to live a quiet life, not dissimilar to hers in fact, although where Pip’s days had been curtailed by the accident and what had happened since, it seemed that Evelyn’s world had been shrunk by the presence of her child. It felt a little as if Evelyn was too big for the space she was occupying, as if there were more of her than there was room for in the house with Joan. And yet Pip had the impression that her spirit was being slowly crushed with each day that passed.

The diary seemed to have three themes – how much Evelyn loved Scarlet, how much she hated Joan and how unfair her life’s events had been, although Pip was struggling to work out exactly what had happened. It was something to do with why she’d left London and the fact that she was an unmarried mother. There was very little mention of her former life as an actress, but Pip could feel Evelyn’s sense of claustrophobia, her urgency to get herself and her daughter back to where she felt they belonged, together with her frustration at not being able to do so. There was also a sense, though, of making the most of the situation. Yes, Evelyn Mountcastle was unhappy at being trapped in the house with her sister, but she was still managing to find joy in little moments spent with her daughter.