Page 17 of Forgive Me Not
‘Where have they all gone?’
‘Stockport mainly. Some, like me, have come out further afield.’
‘How are you supposed to manage without the shelters?’
‘I won’t lie, it’s not been easy. I camp outside this pet shop in the hope that someone will give the Duchess a square meal, but there aren’t many customers. I might have to move on – which would prove to be a popular decision with the locals.’
Emma raised an eyebrow.
‘Oh, they haven’t been abusive. And one mum brings me a takeaway coffee every single morning on the school run. But the majority…’ He shrugged. ‘They’re just not used to it. You remember that sense of unspoken disapproval?’
‘You still won’t consider a hostel?’
‘You know that’s not an option for me,’ he said gruffly, jerking his head towards the dog. ‘I could never abandon her.’
He studied the pavement and gently turned over a ladybird that was stuck on its back. Stig wasn’t an addict. He had talked about it once – the depression he’d suffered that made him walk out on his job as a geography teacher. He’d mumbled something about league tables and demanding parents.
‘I’ve always wondered why you’re called Stig,’ Emma said. ‘Is it after that bloke offTop Gear?’
‘Nah. Everyone thinks that. It’s from a book my grandad used to read me calledStig of the Dump. Stig lived in a den built from discarded rubbish. I can relate to that.’
‘You still haven’t contacted your mum and dad?’
‘I can’t. I was the first in my family to go to university. They’d be so disappointed. It’s kinder to just carry on letting them think I’m missing.’
Emma knew that was an illness talking. Mad Hatter Holly firmly believed her family would be better off if she were dead.
‘So, have you returned home for good?’ he asked, polishing off the last mouthful of sandwich.
‘Don’t ask,’ she said, unable to face giving details.
‘Surely it’s going to take a while to repair any damage?’
‘Yes. Slowly, slowly, I guess. I’ve fantasised about some great reconciliation, but I realise now that I can’t rewrite history; I can’t erase all the hurt.’
‘No, you can’t. The past is done with. But the future is still a blank book. It might work out. Don’t assume the worst. You haven’t got a crystal ball.’
‘One of my therapists told me that. I didn’t appreciate it at first.’
Stig bent his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. ‘There was this pupil I had once. Olly. Hard-working. Polite. I’d had a bad morning. Mock results were in. The head was disappointed with my class’s results.’ He nodded his head at a passer-by who had dropped a fifty-pence coin into his cup. ‘I took it out on Olly. Humiliated him by making him stand in the corner for making some wisecrack that was actually funny. I summoned him to my classroom at the end of the day. Apologised. But the damage had been done.’
‘What happened?’
‘It took several weeks, but eventually he made eye contact again and we moved forwards.’ He put down the sandwich box. ‘Exactly how long have you been back?’
‘I arrived yesterday.’
‘And how long was your drinking an issue before you ended up in the city?’
‘I get it – you’re saying that of course they aren’t going to see me as any different after a couple of days when I ruined their lives for years.’
Give them time to get up to speed. Lou’s words echoed in her ears.
‘What have you got to lose by giving it another go? By giving it a few more days – or weeks?’
That was what Old Len from AA always said. Just give it time.
Promising to see him again whatever she decided, Emma headed up Broadgrass Hill, the air cooler as the sun disappeared for a moment. She could either collect her things and leave, or take the more difficult route. Actions and not words. Could that really be the way forward? She’d only been back one day, but already her mind kept returning to the farm and how she could help. She would love to do everything possible to return the place to its former glory. She could easily mend the tatty enclosures and shelters, and knew how to make the animals’ lives more interesting using some discarded guttering and wood. She used to be a dab hand with a brush and could soon smarten up the farmhouse’s peeling paintwork.
