Reluctantly Home(84)
Later, when Pip had gone home and Evelyn was making her way to bed, she thought about Scarlet. She liked to imagine her as an adult, maybe with children of her own by now. Until she met Pip, she had only allowed herself to think of Scarlet as a three-year-old, preserved precisely as she had been when she died. But now she had a clearer idea of what Scarlet might have become, and it had opened up a whole new chapter for her. It was bittersweet, of course; it always would be, but she could open and close the book whenever she wanted to. And she had Pip to thank for that.
49
Pip was sitting at the kitchen table, a mug of strong tea steaming at her side and her laptop open. She scrolled down and down. All the flats she had seen thus far had either been too far out of central London or too expensive. Although she had some savings, her income had dried up once she had stopped work. Hopefully things would pick up as soon as she started again, but there was no guarantee how quickly that might happen, and she didn’t want to saddle herself with a rent that would quickly become a millstone around her neck.
She was starting to think about going back. The day before, she had taken her courage in her hands and rung her clerk in chambers, the person in charge of her workflow. Matt had been her clerk from the very beginning of her career and she had always believed he had a particular soft spot for her, passing her the juiciest cases and covering up for her if she made a mistake.
‘Matt,’ she said when she heard his voice at the other end. ‘It’s me. Pi . . . Rose.’
‘Rose! Hi! How are you?’ He sounded so delighted to hear from her that it made her want to cry. ‘Please tell me you’re ringing to say you’re coming back. I’ve got briefs coming out of my . . . Well, I’ve got loads of work for you. Just say the word and I’ll start pushing it in your direction.’
Pip felt a little overwhelmed. This wasn’t quite what she had been expecting when she’d picked up the phone, but it was so lovely to hear that she hadn’t been forgotten.
‘I’m not quite sure when it will be,’ she said vaguely. ‘But I’m hoping it won’t be too long now.’
‘Well, I’m thrilled to hear you’re on the mend,’ said Matt. ‘And as I say, whenever you feel ready to come back, just let me know.’
Was she ready? A month ago, she would probably have just shaken her head in despair at the thought of returning to her old life. When her father had driven down to London to retrieve her things from Dominic’s flat, she had been unable to deal with any of it and had just left it all piled up in the spare room. Then, a couple of days ago, inspired by Evelyn’s sterling efforts at her house, Pip had gone into the room to sort it all out.
Dominic had clearly paid someone to pack it all up for him. Her clothes were in clear plastic sleeves, her shoes and toiletries neatly wrapped in tissue paper and boxed. It was almost like Christmas, unwrapping each item, except Pip had anticipated no joy in the task. With every unravelling, she expected to feel a little sadder, a little less in control of her future. But actually, as she held the tokens of who she had been in her hands, all she could do was marvel at how far she had come.
If you had asked her before the accident what her favourite possession was, her answer would have been quick and assured. Her first pair of Louboutins. She remembered now how she used to take them out of the box just to gaze at them and stroke their red undersides. But when she had dug them out and held them in front of her, like Dorothy with her ruby slippers, all she saw was a pair of nice but stupidly overpriced shoes, and nothing more. She could wear them in the farmhouse in full confidence that neither of her parents would have the first idea what they represented. Evelyn would be the same, and would probably have scoffed at this Rose who had attached so much significance to such status symbols. Pip thought she might think like that as well, if she were ever introduced to the person who had been Rose.
She had hung her clothes up in the wardrobe, ready for when she went back to work, and left the shoes in their boxes. Instead of being desperately sad, or even scary, she had found it cathartic. It was just stuff – nice stuff, granted, but just stuff nonetheless. None of it really mattered. None of it was actually what was important.
And now she needed to find somewhere to live. The trouble was that flats in the areas she thought she wanted to be, where she had lived with Dominic, were just so expensive. There was no way she could afford to live there on her own. She sat back in her chair and puffed out a huge and dejected sigh just as her mother walked into the room.
‘What’s up?’ her mother asked.
‘Flats in London are ridiculously expensive,’ Pip said.
Her mother barely missed a beat. ‘I didn’t realise you were thinking of moving back,’ she said, and Pip could hear she was trying hard to keep her tone neutral.
‘Well, I won’t be going anywhere at this rate,’ replied Pip, determinedly avoiding her mother’s meaning. ‘I think I’m going to have to share, but the thought of trying to find the right flat and flatmate at the same time is totally hideous.’
Her mother looked over her shoulder at the flat that was currently on her screen, a new-build in Shoreditch. When she saw the rent she whistled, and then crossed the room and began to fill the kettle. ‘Is that near where you lived before?’ she asked. ‘I’m sorry, I should know, but I get confused with how London all fits together.’