Page 67 of Forgive Me Not
‘You heard him,’ Andrea had said, the pitch of her voice increasing. ‘Just when I thought your behaviour couldn’t get worse… this is the final straw. We’ve all had enough. As far as I’m concerned, you’re no sister of mine. Get out now, or I’ll call the police.’
Emma had wiped her eyes and become defiant. She’d charged upstairs and stuffed random clothes into a rucksack. Frantically she’d searched her usual hiding places, hoping to find some drink. Eventually she discovered a half-drunk bottle of vodka on top of her wardrobe – and next to it the pub’s charity box. She must have stolen it during a blackout. She didn’t remember. She shoved the charity box into her rucksack and went downstairs, pulling on her coat.
Ego bolstered by the vodka, she’d yanked open the kitchen door and glared at Mum. ‘Andrea’s always been your favourite,’ she’d said bitterly, before stumbling out into the courtyard.
‘And don’t come back,’ Andrea had yelled as she walked unsteadily away…
Emma’s stomach twisted now at the memories. She had stolen Bligh’s money. Stolen the pub’s collection which was for his dad as well. She’d discovered that later when she’d bothered reading a label on the box. Emma had stolen his dad’s last chance of salvation. She got up and rummaged in her bedside drawer. She found her one-year sobriety coin and held it tight in her palm.Thank you, thank you for my new life. The old one was a living hell.
‘Stig is here!’ shouted Phil up the stairs.
Of course. The soup run. Emma had completely forgotten. She hadn’t even made any sandwiches. It had felt like a long Friday, what with making things up with Joe and talking to Andrea and Bligh.
‘I suppose you could prepare some basic food here,’ said Phil gruffly when she came down and explained. She gave some cash to Stig, who charged off to the supermarket and came back with cling film, bread and ham.
‘What’s up?’ he said as they buttered bread. After making them all a cup of tea, Phil had gone back to the shop to answer the phone. The animal boarding idea was really taking off. ‘You seemed in such a good mood at lunchtime when we went to the stream with Joe.’
Emma grimaced. ‘Not much to tell, apart from the fact that Andrea and Bligh both hate me more than ever.’
‘C’mon, I’m sure that’s not true.’
‘You’d better believe it.’ Emma proceeded to tell him about everything that had happened. ‘They just can’t see that I’ve truly changed, Stig. I’ve given them time, but it’s never going to happen. I… I don’t blame them, but it’s so frustrating.’
‘You’ve still only been back a few weeks.’
‘I know. I keep telling myself that. So, I’ve come to some decisions.’
‘Are you leaving?’
Emma hoped not. She’d see when she spoke to the police about Ned.
‘For the moment I’m going to continue living at Phil’s and carry on helping out at the farm and with Mum.’ Her shoulders dipped. ‘But I have to change my goals. Making amends isn’t all about getting forgiveness. I don’t think I fully took that on board before.’
Stig put down his knife and squeezed her arm. ‘I saw a meme on Facebook once, back in the day. It said that wisdom always comes at a price.’
Emma sighed. ‘Very true. This last year I’ve learnt so much about the way the mind works. I’ve also learnt to accept things I can’t change, and this is one of them. Things will never go back to how they were. I have to let go of the past. And I think that’s Bligh’s problem – he can’t. He wants to return to how we were.’
‘You’re right, I think there is this expectation with forgiveness that things will go back to exactly how they used to be. With Olly, the kid from school, I soon realised that that was unrealistic. He was polite and still contributed well to the class. But he never joked around with me any more or asked for my help after lessons.’ Stig looked at the kitchen clock. ‘Come on. Let’s finish up and go do our good deed for the day.’
Emma stared out of the kitchen window. Blue tits hopped around. She would put out the crusts before heading off.
‘Just look at your life now – you’re seeing your family, helping people like me, still not drinking. You’ve got new friends, and you’ve made things up with Joe. I’d say all of that was pretty great, wouldn’t you?’ said Stig gently.
‘You’re right. Compared to where I was last year it’s… excuse my language, but it’s a fucking miracle.’
Later that night, Emma strolled back to the pet shop with Phil. He’d come up to the station again, this time with some tins of dog food. Almost ten rough sleepers had turned up. The bakery’s spare jam doughnuts had been a big hit. Stig had gone up to the farm. He’d decided Emma was right. He should accept Andrea’s offer of sleeping in the barn for one night.
Emma didn’t feel like chatting and went straight to her room. Her bedside drawer was jutting out. The envelopes from Gail’s chest were visible on the left. She got changed into her pyjamas, cleaned her teeth and made herself comfortable on the bed. Perhaps it was time to look at her mum’s letters.
She sifted through them, looking at the postmark dates, and decided to start with the earliest, sent eighteen years ago. It was the only one that had been opened. For the first time, she noticed that the postmarks and stamps were foreign. The envelopes dated longest ago had been sent to their old address in London. The rest had been forwarded to Foxglove Farm from there.
She was just about to pull out the envelope’s contents when she hesitated. Having Alzheimer’s didn’t mean Gail had relinquished her right to privacy. Yet what if these were simply from a close friend she had lost touch with? Wouldn’t they want to know if she was ill?
‘I’ll just look at one,’ she told herself, knowing that thoughts of Andrea and Bligh would, in any event, keep her from sleep. She pulled out a card. A note fell onto the bed sheets.
Chapter 23
Emma picked up the note.
