Page 38 of Forgive Me Not
‘Yes you have. I can help with posters and ask local businesses to pin them up. We’re heading past the middle of July now – it’s not long before school breaks up. You could take in hamsters, gerbils, guinea pigs and birds while people are away on their holidays. I’d help you look after them.’
He put down his fork. ‘It won’t work, you know. People – including me – aren’t ever going to be taken in. Why don’t you just drop this bright and breezy front?’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘You don’t think people can change?’
‘All those years, since I had that one-night stand, Sheila made me think she’d forgiven me and never said a harsh word. But just before she left, the resentment, all the old bitterness I thought had disappeared, poured out. So no. I don’t believe people can change – and memories certainly can’t.’
‘But you were the one who had the affair, and you changed.’
Phil didn’t answer.
Her mum had forgotten lots. Her memories had altered. Or rather, they’d disappeared and left a confused mind to fill in the gaps. Yesterday she’d asked Bligh if he was her boyfriend and held his hand. Emma was still known simply as the woman who talked too much.
Emma rolled up a pancake and picked up her tea in the other hand. Her chair scraped as she stood and headed into the garden. She sat on a worn plastic chair, mug by her side. Morning dampness lent the air notes of grass and soil. A speckled thrush landed on the lawn nearby. She tossed small crumbs of batter. Minutes later a blue tit and a sparrow shared the spoils.
Even Andrea couldn’t help smiling at the idea of Gail and Bligh dating. The sisters had always teased their mum that she had a secret crush. Laughing, she wouldn’t deny it and regularly made him his favourite steamed treacle pudding. That was back in the day, when Bligh’s world revolved around Emma, like a planet that had finally found its sun. And just lately, just occasionally, she’d felt that old pull between them again.
When she returned inside, Phil had done the washing-up. Ignoring his glance, she put her mug by the sink. He’d got a tape measure out and was holding it up to the window.
‘I won’t be back until late,’ she said. ‘I’m at the farm all day. Andrea has agreed to let me prepare the food there for tonight’s soup run.’
‘Good. I’m sick of this place smelling of onions.’ He said something else, but she didn’t wait to hear – didn’t want to hear any more of his negative comments.
‘Honestly, I wouldn’t mind if he was perfect, but you should see the state of the bathroom after he’s had a wash,’ she complained to Stig with attempted cheerfulness as they walked through Healdbury that evening. He’d met her at the top of Broadgrass Hill at a quarter to seven and was helping her carry the rucksacks and an old picnic table she’d found in the barn. Emma had filled flasks with rich tomato soup and made cheese sandwiches with the cucumber relish recipe out of Mum’s recipe book. ‘Phil’s default setting is just plain rude.’
‘But he did let you move in,’ said Stig as they passed the Badger Inn. Laughter and chat wafted over from the beer garden out the back.
She sighed. ‘And I am grateful. Since moving out, things have improved at the farm. Bligh and I actually sat down and drank coffee together this afternoon.’
Stig steered the Duchess away from a broken bottle smashed on the ground. At that moment, Ted from the cheese shop approached them, pointing to the glass.
‘We didn’t have any of that before you rough sleepers moved here.’ He took out his phone and took a photo. ‘Evidence for my next meeting with the local council.’
‘Ted… please,’ said Emma. ‘It’s a Coke bottle. Anyone could have dropped it.’
He jerked his head up towards the station. ‘Quite a crowd there now, waiting for your handouts. The bins are overflowing and the bushes stink of urine. I’ve just been up there to take notes.’ He rubbed his forehead. ‘No wonder my migraines have been coming back.’
‘Get some lavender oil in. Always used to do the trick for me when I was teaching,’ said Stig.
‘Teaching?’
‘Stig’s a geography graduate,’ said Emma.
Ted’s cheeks reddened and he loosened his shirt collar before answering his phone and walking away.
Stig and Emma called in to the bakery and then approached the station. Rita and young Tilly were waiting. Tilly wore scruffy pink and white jogging bottoms and a stained T-shirt that saidUnicorns Suck. The young couple who begged outside the bank were also there, plus an older woman who’d been in Healdbury a week, camping out next to a bin opposite Ted’s shop. Then there were several rough sleepers who hadn’t appeared before, including one with a Labrador.
They all sat smoking and chatting. It was a warm summer’s evening and Emma was beginning to wonder if she should have made cold fruit smoothies instead of soup.
This was the fifth soup run they’d done now. Wednesdays and Fridays, they’d decided upon. Seven until nine. Rita smiled as they arrived and helped them off with the rucksacks. Stig set up the table.
‘I’m dead grateful,’ she said and tossed her asymmetrical hair, ‘but please tell me it’s not that peanut soup again. Even I’m not quite that desperate.’
Tilly grinned.
‘You’re in luck. We’ve had a glut of tomatoes up at the farm this year,’ said Emma, ‘so it looks like global warming might have saved you.’
‘That’s one thing I miss,’ said Stig, passing Tilly a sandwich before helping himself. He opened it, took out the filling and gave the bread to the Duchess. ‘The geography field trips I used to go on. The last one was to Iceland to see the impact of climate change. The kids were really switched on.’
