Page 16 of Forgive Me Not
‘Nice to see you too. It must be over a year since I’ve bumped into you or Joe. I assumed you’d moved on. Looking good, Emma. You got into treatment?’
She nodded.
‘And Joe?’
Emma mumbled something about him going down south and a difference of opinion.
Stig didn’t ask questions. Just said he knew they’d been close.
‘What are you doing in Healdbury?’ she asked, still in a daze after the falling-out with Andrea.
‘I could ask you the same thing.’
‘This is where I grew up.’
‘The farm?’
Emma tried to elaborate but just couldn’t, and instead stood in silence. ‘I’m sorry, Stig,’ she said eventually. ‘I’ve just come from… You see, me and my sister…’ Her shoulders slumped. ‘I’m not the best company right now; I need to clear my head. But it’s great to see you again. I’ll be back later.’
‘Hey, no explanation needed,’ he said, and studied her face. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
They hugged again and she headed through the village, taking a short cut to Healdbury stream. Sometimes she and Bligh had gone that way after school, popping into the bakery for an iced bun.
As the water came into view, her heartbeat no longer sounded in her ears. Instead she listened to the birds, wasps, the babbling current… Carefully she climbed down to the stream’s edge, took off her trainers and sat with her toes in the water, squishing mud between them. Bulrushes swayed side to side like pendulums. A frog plopped into the water.
Life was so simple back in the day, when all she and Bligh had to worry about was maths homework and how to convince their parents to let them stay out an extra hour. But now… She breathed in the algae smell and watched tiddlers circumnavigate her feet. Did they swim in families? If one lost its way, could it easily come back and fit into the shoal again?
Gail hadn’t said much whilst eating breakfast. Emma hadn’t known how to fill the silence. She wasn’t sure there would be much more conversation with Andrea. More apologies would be pointless – the same with Bligh. So if words wouldn’t work, that only left actions.
But what could she do to change their minds about her staying?
Her forehead relaxed as the sun warmed her face and the familiar surroundings took her back to her childhood. Dash used to love swimming for twigs that Emma and Andrea would throw into the stream. They’d laugh when he’d shake off the water and then go straight back in.
What was it her case worker Lou had said?Manage your expectations. You’ve got yourself better, you’ve changed, but people won’t know that. Give them time to get up to speed. Blades of grass flattened as Emma ran her hand over the bank of the stream.
Lou was right. An instant reunion? That was never going to be possible. She could see that now.
She sat thinking about the past and all the people she’d hurt because she used to feel so isolated and not good enough, like some sort of misfit. Her mind switched to yesterday and the way she’d turned up so unexpectedly. She should have foreseen the shock that would cause. But it was too late now. She couldn’t take back her thoughtless arrival.
She took her hand away from the turf and, like the blades of grass, stood upright. She brushed down her cotton trousers and put her trainers back on. Giving up was not the solution – but was it unfair on her family to persist?
As for Polly and Alan… one thing at a time.
She made her way back into the village and stopped at the baker’s to buy Stig a sandwich. Then she headed to the pet shop, where he was sitting outside.
‘I still can’t believe you’re here,’ she said, and passed him the food before squatting down by his dog, the Duchess. She ruffled the Staffie’s soft ears and ran a hand down her coat, feeling her ribs. Then she slumped against the wall whilst Stig put his book down and ate. She had forgotten how big the world looked from this angle. She studied the litter bin opposite and imagined all sorts of half-eaten hidden treasures. Friends on the streets used to kip in tall wheelie bins. Emma had never dared, terrified that she’d wake up being crushed in the back of a rubbish truck.
‘What brings you out to the sticks?’ she asked. ‘I’ve noticed a few rough sleepers since I got back. There’s a woman outside the supermarket…’
‘Rita,’ he said, and gave the Duchess some ham.
‘And a couple outside the bank on Church Street. Plus a girl at the station.’
‘She’s called Tilly.’ Stig stopped eating for a second. ‘Have you heard of the Alternative European Arts Festival?’
‘I saw it on the front of theManchester Newslast week.’ It had made her think of her mum. Gail would have loved to visit all the different exhibitions. There were collages made from rainforest leaves, and living works of art in the form of tattoos. It would have inspired her cross-stitching.
‘It started three weeks ago and goes on until the end of October. Artists from across the Continent are visiting, along with local arts ministers and groups from schools. So there’s been a huge clean-up in the city. Apparently it also happened during the Commonwealth Games in 2002 – rough sleepers were moved away to create a more pleasant impression.’
