Page 65 of Book People

‘Oh my God,’ I murmur. ‘No trace was ever found?’

‘No. But back in the sixties it was easier to disappear, not as easy now.’ She glances at Sebastian. ‘It wasn’t like your great-granddad. It was very clear he drowned.’

Sebastian’s expression is impossible to read. ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Of course.’

I’m more interested in Rose and Kate, though. Especially Rose, maybe because I identify with her situation too much. ‘Poor Rose. She was left without her mum so young. That must have been terrible.’

Mrs Bennet nods. ‘It traumatised her, I think. Then there was the palaver with her getting pregnant, and the village gossip when she made it clear she was going to keep the baby.’

I lean my elbows on the counter. ‘Did you know who the father was? Did she tell you?’

‘No. Rose wouldn’t say a word. But she had plenty to say when Rebecca got pregnant with you. Some young Australian working at the Arms, apparently. Took off when he found out about you. Rose kept insisting that you should be given up for adoption, but Rebecca wouldn’t hear of it.’ She sighs. ‘I told Rose that being so stubborn wasn’t going to earn her any favours with Becca, but she wouldn’t listen to me. When Becca left, I didn’t want to say “I told you so”, but . . .’

So, my father was some unknown man who took off. Then Rose wanted to give me up for adoption. I can understand her reasons for it – Mum was young and on her own, and then there were also Rose’s own experiences as a single mum, especially in a time when such things were a terrible scandal – yet a dull pain aches inside me all the same.

Mum left Wychtree because of me. My father also left Wychtree because of me. My grandmother ruined her relationship with her daughter because of me. And Mum had a small, narrow life because of me.

It’s you. You’re the problem.

The voice in my head sounds like Jasper’s, and conscious of Sebastian’s gaze, I try to ignore both him and it as I force myself to give Mrs Bennet a smile. ‘Well, thank you,’ I say. ‘That’s extremely helpful.’

Mrs Bennet gives me a narrow look. ‘When Rose died, she left me a box of her things. It’s not much. She didn’t keep a lot. But seems like you should have it.’

The dull ache vanishes at this news, and excitement fills me. ‘Seriously? Oh, yes, absolutely! I’d love to have it.’

‘Okay. Wait here.’ She disappears into her back room, leaving Sebastian and me standing at the counter.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says quietly. He doesn’t say anything else, so I’m not sure what he’s sorry about, but it’s clear he knows I’m upset. So maybe it’severythinghe’s sorry about.

My great-grandmother disappearing.

My grandmother having my mother to an unknown man.

My mother also having me to an unknown man and then refusing to give me up.

The history of these women, their stories that are lost, all because there’s no one left to tell them. No one except me, and I don’t know anything, because no one told me.

I feel cheated in some way and I can’t look at him, can’t acknowledge he’s even spoken, otherwise a dam might break in me and all the grief that I’ve been consciously pushing aside since I came to Wychtree might come rushing out and swamp me.

Luckily, at that moment Mrs Bennet comes back with a small cardboard shoe box and hands it to me. ‘There you are. I should have given it to you weeks ago, but I forgot it was there until now.’ Her habitually stern expression gives way into a smile. ‘I think Rose would have liked you. She and your mother should have made up, let bygones be bygones. No point holding on to grudges, is my feeling.’

My throat is tight as I clutch the old box and I feel an uprush of warmth towards her. ‘Yes, Isoagree. Look, I’d love to sit down with you and talk some more about my grandmother. Would that be okay?’

‘Of course, dear. That would be lovely. You let me know, hmm?’

I nod, thank her profusely, then without a further word turn and walk out of the shop. I can sense Sebastian behind me, so once we’re out on the footpath, I turn to face him. I feel oddlyprotective of the box and I only want to open it in the safety of Portable Magic.

‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘That was very kind of you to come with me.’

His blue gaze scans my face and I know my emotions are plastered all over it. It makes me feel vulnerable, so before he can answer, I turn away. ‘I’d better get back to the shop,’ I say.

‘What about the festival?’ he asks. ‘We were going to look at the programme.’

‘Tomorrow,’ I say over my shoulder, and don’t wait for a reply.

I don’t look back as I carry my box into Portable Magic. I should have been more gracious to him than that, but I just don’t have it in me.

The ‘Back in ten minutes’ sign is still up and I’ve been gone longer than ten minutes, but I don’t take it down.

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