The Day She Came Back(63)

Victoria nodded; that sounded like a plan.



As she watched the bubbles foam and grow under the gurgling hot tap, Victoria picked up her phone and composed a text to Daksha.

Daks, I don’t expect a reply and I have no right to ask for one. I just wanted to say that I am truly sorry. I am so very sorry. I lost my head. I lost control (and my virginity – but that’s a whole other story!) but the very worst part of it all is that I may have lost you and that is something I can’t bear to think about. I literally can’t bear it. V Xx

By the time she stepped out of the bath, there was a reply, and it gladdened her heart.

How was the party?

Victoria wrapped herself in the big towel from the towel rail and wrote:

Horrific. Every aspect completely horrific. One of the worst nights of my life and considering recent events – hope this conveys just how bad. I am such an idiot. An idiot now knee-deep in carnage – and yes, I know, it’s my own stupid fault. X

Daksha didn’t reply and Victoria understood. She had blown it. It was no more than she deserved. And no matter how much it hurt, this was, after all, just another loss to thicken the shell encasing her already broken heart.



As Gerald pulled on to the gravel driveway, Victoria was delighted to see Bernard’s van already in situ. She could hear the steady rhythm of a hammer and knew he was at work.

‘Bernard!’ She smiled.

‘Yep, Bernard.’ Gerald killed the engine and they climbed out.

The two looked at the grass of the front lawns and flowerbeds, where fast-food wrappers ranging from cardboard chicken buckets to brown-paper burger bags nestled among the rosebushes and behind the ornamental shrubs.

‘Oh God.’ She felt sick.

‘Come on. Chin up! Moping about it isn’t going to help with the clear-up. We get tea when we have progress!’ Gerald’s words motivated her as he handed her a black bin bag.

She put her key in the front door and gingerly pushed it open. The house smelled like a grubby pub. Pulling the front door wide, she wedged it open with a concrete rabbit that had long ago lost an ear and had lived by the porch for as many years as she could remember. Next she marched through to the garden room, where Bernard, who had gained access via the broken French doors, had thrown them open to allow a breeze in from the east side of the property. She was glad; it had been her plan to literally blow away the stench and memory of the previous night.

‘Thank you, Bernard, for coming over.’ She spoke quietly.

The man stopped hammering and looked at her, clearly wary about his reception.

‘I got your message.’ He nodded.

‘I meant every word. I am sorry, for . . . for everything.’ She swallowed.

‘You know, there have been countless times over the years that I’ve wanted to write you a note.’ He tapped the hammer gently into his palm, as if this helped him concentrate. ‘I was in a very difficult position. I’d always got on well with Sarah and her request sounded reasonable, asking me to let her know occasionally how you were doing, nothing more. And I told the wife, who said, “Don’t get involved”, but I was already involved. And Sarah said something that made me think. She said, “If you couldn’t see your little one grow up, what would you give just to know she was doing okay?”’ He blinked and looked out towards the garden. ‘And I thought about that a lot and I knew that I’d give anything, anything at all, and so to drop her a line once in a while felt like a small thing.’

‘It was a big thing to me.’ She spoke calmly.

‘I can see that now. But I never meant no harm, I was only trying to do good for Sarah.’

‘And I can see that now.’ She held his gaze. ‘So, you have known Sarah for a long time?’

‘Yes. Thirty-odd years.’

‘And is she . . . I mean . . . do I . . .?’

‘You are very much like her.’ He intercepted her thoughts, and his words sent a bolt of joy through her. ‘She was smart and headstrong, and I think that’s why she and your gran clashed.’

‘Did she suddenly start taking drugs, or was it a gradual thing?’ She was curious, feeling her face flush and thinking of how she had smoked weed in this very room.

‘Sarah was a free spirit and was very open. I don’t think she did anything that most teenagers do at first. The difference is, most teenagers hide it, but not her, and Prim found that tough to deal with.’

‘Did you ever meet my dad?’ Her voice cracked.

Bernard shook his head. ‘No.’

‘What did you think, Bernard, about the fact that they told me she had died? That they lied to me like that?’

He exhaled slowly. ‘I thought it was . . .’ She could see that, when it came to it, he too was struggling for words. ‘I thought it was bound to come back to them at some point and you’d all have to face the consequences, is what I thought. Bit like having a party and letting people run wild in your house.’ He tutted.

‘A bit like that.’ She rustled the bin bag in her hand. ‘Better crack on. We are stopping for tea when Gerald gives the say-so.’

‘Tea? Prim would have cake too, or at the very least a biscuit.’ He chuckled.

‘I’ll see what we can do!’ She felt a small weight lift from her shoulders; to have things restored with Bernard-the-handyman felt good.