Page 61 of The Holiday Cottage

“Oh, Mum, please—” Sara put her arms around her mother, offering what support she could. “Please don’t cry. I can’t bear it. This is not your fault.”

“Oh, it is.” Dorothy sniffed and rummaged for a tissue. “We both know it’s my fault. Even the way Tina left was my fault. The things I said—”

“You told the truth, that’s all. And she needed to hear it.” She really didn’t want to talk about this. She didn’t want tothinkabout it.

“And telling it did no good at all. If I could change one thing about that time it would be the words I said to her that night.”

Sara felt her mother cling on to her, and she tightened her hold, not knowing what to do or say. She felt helpless and more like a child than a grown woman with a family of her own.

She worked hard at never thinking of her sister, but when she did it was almost always with anger for the destruction she’d wrought within their family.

After a moment, Dorothy took a deep breath and pulled away. “I’m sorry. This isn’t about me. It’s about poor Imogen. Go after her, Sara. Please. Right now.”

“In a minute. I’m not leaving you like this, Mum.” She didn’t voice her worries that her mother might collapse, just as her father had. “I can’t believe she spoke to you like that.” She was a little shocked by it.

“We mustn’t blame her. It’s not her fault, poor thing. She was hurt. Shocked. And there was some truth in what she said.”

“There was no truth in it.” Sara chose her words carefully. “You didn’t abandon Tina. The idea of it is ridiculous.” She tried hard to control her own emotions on the subject. She could vent at Patrick later. Poor Patrick.

“But Imogen felt it so strongly.” Her mother dug her hand into her pocket and found a tissue. “You saw her. She was furious with us.”

“I think we should leave her to calm down a little, get used to the idea, and then we should all sit down and have a conversation.”

“We can’t do that.” Dorothy blew her nose. “You heard what she said. She’s leaving. She is probably packing as we speak. You have to stop her.”

There was a noise from the doorway, and Dorothy quickly turned her back and tried to pull herself together.

“Mummy, when are we going to eat? Ava is really hungry.” Iris stood there, Ava by her side.

For a moment Sara was thrown.

She’d forgotten about her children.When in her life had she ever forgotten about her children?

She swiftly pulled herself together. “Nanna is going to serve lunch, while I just pop down to Holly Cottage for a minute.”

Iris was looking horrified. “Is Nanna crying? What’s the matter?”

“She’s probably hungry,” Ava said helpfully. “I feel like crying too. Chicken would help.”

“Oh, you poor things. Come and sit down and eat some lunch.” All bright smiles and willpower, Dorothy carved chicken onto plates and added vegetables.

Sara quickly reheated gravy and poured it into a jug. “Help yourselves. I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Where are you going?” Iris poured gravy on Ava’s chicken and then on her own. “Aren’t you having lunch too?”

“I’ll join you in a minute. There’s something I need to do.”

“Where’s Imogen? She’s probably hungry too.” Ava stabbed a piece of chicken. “I like Imogen. And Benson liked her. She’s very pretty. She has golden hair like yours, Mummy.”

Iris caught the look on her mother’s face and pushed the plate closer to her sister. “Eat your lunch. You’ve been complaining about being starving for the past hour, so eat.”

Sara took advantage of the moment and left the room. She grabbed her car keys. Holly Cottage was only a five-minute walk down the drive, but she’d be there in less than a minute if she drove. For her mother’s sake, she didn’t want Imogen to leave before she’d had a chance to talk to her.

What exactly was she going to say?

Sara closed her eyes for a moment, dreading the forthcoming encounter. Imogen was her niece. Her sister’s child. She still remembered every detail of the night Imogen was born. She remembered holding her in the hospital. Remembered the precise moment the midwife had carefully given her Imogen to hold.

She’d been swaddled in blankets, a tiny innocent little bundle oblivious to all the complexities that her arrival had created.

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