The Day She Came Back(26)

‘I like that. Padlocks and a big, snarling dog.’ He held her eyeline. ‘You didn’t come to the pub that night?’

‘Oh. No. I didn’t realise you were asking me, plus’ – she took a deep breath – ‘things have been a bit rubbish. My gran died.’ She detested saying it out loud, making it real, and she then cursed the tears that inevitably followed.

‘Oh shit! And she was like . . .’ He paused. ‘You don’t have a big family.’ He phrased it cautiously.

‘That’s right. The tiniest family imaginable. Just me now, actually.’

‘Shit!’ he said again, shaking his head as if this were beyond his comprehension. She was tempted to point out the plus side: no little sister waiting to steal her room meant no need of the investment in padlocks and snarling dogs.

‘That’s messed up.’

‘You don’t know the half of it.’ She pictured Sarah Hansen’s note, and in her head saw a clock counting down. I leave tomorrow . . .

‘Well, look, I need to get the bus.’ He pointed along the street. ‘But come to the pub, or I could message you . . .’

‘Sure.’ She nodded, not sure what exactly she was agreeing to and genuinely cool in her response. ‘Flynn?’ she called as he balanced on the kerb, waiting for a break in the traffic.

‘What?’

‘Are you and Courtney, are you guys, like . . .’ She didn’t know what she was asking or why, but pictured the girl calling his name with such purpose.

‘No! No way!’ He laughed and curled his top lip, as if the very idea were distasteful. This gave her food for thought; maybe Courtney’s superpowers were not as strong as they had suspected.



Victoria kicked off her sandals and slumped down into the vacant chair on the veranda next to Daksha, grateful as ever for her presence, knowing that she was the only thing that stood between her and an existence of total isolation. A thought that was unbearable. The two watched the lake, over which a cool breeze drifted, lifting the hair from their faces.

This place . . . my place now . . . and yet I don’t even know if I want it, not without you. Oh, Prim – I wish we could talk and you could tell me what to do about Sarah Hansen! And if it is her, if she is my mum, I don’t think you can have known. You can’t have. I know you wouldn’t have lied to me about something like that . . . I know it!

‘So how did you get on with Mr Vicar?’ Her friend yawned.

‘Okay.’

‘Please stop with all the detail!’ Daksha held up a hand.

It might only have been ten days or so since they had waved goodbye to August, but already the days had lost the heat of summer and were now pleasant – warm still, but with the gift of a cold snap at night to aid sleep – should a whirring brain ever calm long enough to allow it. She thought of Gerald and how Prim was his weather girl as well as his theatre partner and felt a stab of sadness at his loss. Prim was, after all, more than just hers. She picked up her phone and fired off a text.

Bit cloudy today, Gerald. I would say summer definitely on the way out and autumn is around the corner.

Hope you are okay today.

Pop in any time.

Victoria X

‘So come on! What did the vicar say?’ Daksha urged.

‘I suppose nothing very helpful and everything I expected. How the whole Sarah Hansen thing might be a ruse, a con by someone interested now I am a “woman of means”.’

‘He did not say that!’ Daksha sat up.

‘He did. And he has a point. He said it might be what I want to believe, the fairy-tale ending and all that.’

‘And what do you think?’

‘I think I just don’t know.’ She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, as irritated by her response as she knew her friend would be. ‘And that’s the truth.’

‘I don’t want to influence you either way.’ Daksha sighed. ‘It’s such a personal thing. I don’t want you to have regrets, but I also don’t want you to get hurt.’

‘God, Daks, I think I am going to have regrets either way.’

‘Possibly, but I know that if it was me, I couldn’t stand not to know. It would eat away at me. But then, I get the whole self-protection thing. And at the end of the day, I keep asking this question: would Prim have lied that your mum had died?’ She shook her head. ‘Of course she wouldn’t. It was her daughter, after all.’

‘That’s what I think. Which doesn’t help me make a decision on what to do – call her, don’t call her? See her, don’t see her?’ She rolled her eyes.

‘Well, I was thinking.’ Daksha’s considered, calm response showed a certainty that Victoria could only envy. ‘I would ask her for proof that she is who she says she is, and then, based on that proof or lack of, I would make my decision on what to do next.’

‘Yes.’ Victoria nodded. ‘Of course! If she was my mum, she would have proof, right? She would know stuff.’

‘Yep, she’d definitely know stuff,’ Daksha confirmed.

The two friends watched the remaining swallows of the season, agile and elegant as they dipped low over the lake, no doubt to feast on the bugs and airborne grubs lurking over its green-tinged surface.

‘I think this lake must be like a bird service station, the equivalent of stocking up on snacks before they fly off up the motorway,’ Victoria said.