Page 66 of The Mended Hearts Bookshop

Ash nodded. They’d said their real goodbyes. Not forever goodbyes, as Ash kept telling her. Just their for now goodbyes. Ash had left the bakery at three in the morning, needing to pack her final things, wanting to enact this decision now that it was made.

“Here,” Pen said, handing over a paper bag. “Just something for the journey.”

Ash grinned. “I’m going to London, not Timbuktu. There’s enough in here to feed an army.”

“You might get stuck in traffic,” pointed out Pen. “Or meet a friend on the way.”

“If someone climbs into my car then they’re probably not going to be a friend,” Ash said. But she held tight to the paper bag. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Pen’s face without a smile was like a sandwich without butter or a storm without rain, just not quite right.

“It’s going to be alright,” Ash said, stepping in closer. “Just you wait and see. And I’m going to see you in three weeks, that’s not so long.”

Pen nodded and bit her lip and Ash knew she was trying not to cry.

“Come here,” Ash said, pulling her into a hug. “I’ll be with you very, very soon,” she said, dropping a kiss onto Pen’s head.

“You’re squashing your sandwich,” said Pen, pulling back.

“Okay, I’d better go before the traffic gets too bad. I’ll see you very soon, Pen, please don’t cry.”

But it was Ash that was blinking away tears as she walked away from the bakery, away from the bookshop, and back toward her old life.

AFTER THE OPENNESS of the seaside, London seemed cloying and dark. Ash went through the kerfuffle of returning the rental car and paid an exorbitant amount for the privilege of having it parked in front of the bookshop for longer than necessary.

Then she pulled her case behind her and began the slow walk back to her flat.

The river churned brown beneath the embankment, and nobody looked at her, there were no smiles or greetings as she walked. This was what she liked about living in the city, she reminded herself. The anonymity, the fact that she could be anyone or anything and everyone would ignore her.

By the time she got back to her building she was cold, tired, and wondering whether she’d made the right decision at all.

Of course, she’d made the logical decision. Moving into the tiny flat above the bakery with Pen would be far too soon, put far too much pressure on a relationship that was fragile and new. Still though, it didn’t stop the strange empty feeling inside her.

She dragged her case into the lift, and then out again when the lift refused to move, before hiking it up the stairs, dropping it when she got to the top. Why did suitcases have to be so unwieldy?

A door cracked open and an eye appeared, followed by the rest of the face and then the body. “Oh,” said Amanda Brown. “It’s you.”

“Yes,” said Ash, standing upright with the case behind her again. “I do live here, remember?”

“We were all beginning to think that you’d forgotten.” Amanda sniffed. “Nice hols?”

“It wasn’t really a holiday,” said Ash. “More of a… a work thing.”

“Mmm. Well, your plants are healthy and the place is clean. I ran the hoover around since you were gone so long.” She looked Ash up and down. “Wait there a minute.”

She disappeared and Ash barely had time to wonder where she’d gone before she was back, holding a canvas tote bag.

“Here you go, you’ll be needing these, I expect. It’s about to chuck down and you look tired, you’ll not want to be going out again.”

Taking the bag, Ash opened it to see a small carton of milk, a couple of eggs and half a loaf of bread. Suddenly there was a lump in her throat that she had to swallow down. “Um, thank you. That’s very kind.” Which wasn’t enough to say. She took a breath. “So, how are the kids?”

Amanda beamed. “Fine, fine, very well. Well, Sanzia has her recorder recital next week and she’s worried, but you know how they get. And Luke’s struggling with maths, but nothing horrific.”

Ash nodded. “Good, good to hear.” She held up the bag. “I’d best be getting in then. I need to unpack.”

“Right you are. I’ll let you get on with it.” She hesitated in the doorway. “Nice to have you back.”

“Thanks,” Ash said, unlocking her own door, feeling the milk carton bumping against her back in its canvas bag as she did so.

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