Page 45 of Forgive Me Not
‘I did mean to ask.’ Emma had struggled to find the right moment. Andrea had been snappy all day. The boiler had broken. The plumber had done a temporary fix but said they’d need a new one soon. That meant finding a large sum of money they didn’t have. Plus she had found a load of empty beer cans behind the weeping willow. She’d half-heartedly accused Emma before conceding it was probably local teenagers.
Gail had been quiet all afternoon – she wasn’t sleeping well at the moment. This had allowed Emma to spend most of the day fixated on the memory of Polly and Alan from last night. The way they’d comforted Ted’s grandchildren and calmed them down, then offered the whole family free lodgings until they got themselves sorted out.
She couldn’t put off the inevitable for much longer. She’d hardly slept herself last night and woken up in a sweat having relived that crazy car journey. Mentally she’d listed all the things she might have robbed that boy of – university, marriage, maybe kids, a great career. Tales of prison life that she’d heard at AA kept her tossing and turning as well.
But if there was one thing she’d learnt from the months of treatment, it was to listen to the voice of conscience in her head. If she didn’t keep that happy, sooner or later she’d start drinking again, and that hell was worse than any prison sentence.
‘I’m sorry, Andrea,’ she said. ‘I know it’s short notice, but I’m really worried about this girl, Tilly… she’s a runaway. Someone should do something, but I’m not sure what. I bet she’ll really love feeding the animals.’
‘What about Mum? She’ll only get confused.’ Andrea folded her arms. ‘I won’t see her hurt.’
‘Nor would I,’ said Emma.
‘I’ve only got your word for that, and frankly that’s not worth much.’
Emma couldn’t suppress a sigh.
‘What?’ snapped Andrea. ‘You think I’m being harsh? Well I was the one who had to listen to her sobbing night after night after you left, blaming herself for your departure, telling herself she’d failed as a mother.’
A lump formed in Emma’s throat. Andrea would rarely commit to a proper conversation, so her frustrations would burst out suddenly as if they’d come from a piñata that only her younger sister’s presence could rupture.
‘And the farm can’t afford to have anything stolen,’ said Bligh. ‘Although I guess they did help save Ted. The Badger Inn was full of talk about how brave they were when I dropped in at lunchtime.’
‘They’ll stay outside the farmhouse,’ said Emma. ‘Stig and Rita are all right.’
‘Stig?’ Andrea rolled her eyes and sighed. A weary expression crossed her face. ‘I want them gone by nine o’clock.’
‘Thanks, I really appreciate it. Could I use the kitchen to make sandwiches? And I promised Tilly those strawberry and white chocolate cupcakes – you remember, the ones we loved?’ Emma lifted the recipe book off the upturned crate and stood up. ‘Your illustrations were brilliant.’
‘You can have the kitchen, but tidy up afterwards and keep an eye on Mum. Use the cheese, not the ham – the price has just gone up, and with a new boiler to think about…’ She rubbed her forehead. ‘This is the last time you can use our bread and other ingredients that aren’t surplus though, Emma. Money’s tighter than ever.’ She about-turned and headed towards the shed behind the barn.
Emma swallowed any reply and Bligh gave her a curious look. She told Gail about the cupcakes, and arms linked, they went indoors. Bligh picked up his basket and followed them. He set the cucumbers down on the table and put the kettle on.
‘I could murder a cup of tea. Gail? Emma?’
Emma nodded. ‘Thanks for your support,’ she said, getting flour out of the cupboard.
‘I’m beginning to see signs of change. Like just now – you took Andrea’s comment on the chin.’
A warm feeling radiated through her chest. ‘Thank you.’
‘I’m not a forgiving man, but Dad was, and in honour of his memory I’m trying to see things for how they are now. Although I’ll never forget that Christmas and what you did to him,’ he said, voice thick.
‘I know, and I’m so sorry.’ It sounded like such an empty word. ‘And I’m grateful you didn’t report me to the police.’
‘You always took my loyalty for granted,’ he said in a tight voice. ‘Don’t make the same mistake again.’
A chill replaced the warm glow as they fell into silence. Gail helped Emma beat the cake batter. They spooned it into paper cases, splashing it down the sides.
‘You’re a clever girl,’ said Gail when the cakes went into the oven.
Emma’s spirits lifted as they looked at each other and smiled. She began to chop the strawberries, then filled the washing-up bowl with soapy water and asked Gail to clean the utensils, knowing that she’d have to do them herself again later. Bligh had gone into the dining room to work at the computer.
When the cakes had cooled, she melted white chocolate and let Gail pour it over the tops. Their roles had reversed. She remembered Gail teaching her how to ice. Was this nature’s plan? To have parents teach things to their children because one day they’d need someone to show them the way again? Daily Emma had to remind Gail how to clean her teeth. Brush her hair. Wipe her nose. It took patience to pass on skills that would never improve. There was still so much her mum had to lose.
They pressed cut strawberries into the white topping. Emma hesitated before putting one of the cakes on a plate. She carried it through and tentatively handed it to Bligh.
‘Verdict?’ she asked.
