Page 17 of Best Laid Plans
It suddenly dawned on him what all her previous strange behaviour had been about: the change in hotel after only one night, the stolen lunch, the determination to eat pizza instead of à la carte cuisine.
Money trouble.
‘Why haven’t you asked your family for help?’ he asked, gentling his voice now. ‘Surely one of your brothers will lend you some money to tide you over?’
Sighing, she folded her arms and looked down at her feet, kicking at the ground and wincing. ‘Because I don’t want to.’
‘Why not?’
She looked him directly in the eye again. ‘I don’t like to rely on other people. I need to know I can survive on my own without any help.’
He gave her a puzzled frown. ‘That’s impressive. But being able to accept help from others is a skill too.’
She opened her mouth as if to speak, then shut it again, shrugged, then flapped her hand around in an airy manner. ‘It’s an old habit. It was always do or die in the house where I grew up. Showing any kind of neediness to my brothers was deemed as a sign of weakness.’
This insight into her life disturbed him. ‘What about your parents then?’
She paused before she spoke. ‘My mum died from breast cancer when I was twelve and my dad passed away a couple of years ago – although, to be honest, he pretty much died when she did, at least his spirit did.’
Her whole posture seemed to shrink in on itself as she folded her arms across her chest. Clearly it was a difficult subject for her to talk about.
‘He didn’t cope well after she’d gone,’ she continued, staring down at the floor, ‘so I took over running the household. My brothers certainly didn’t have a clue how to do it. Luckily, my mum taught me how to cook before she died, and I found I was good at it.’ She kicked gently at the ground. ‘My dad suffered with bad depression so I ended up staying at home whilst I did my college courses, and then for a few years afterwards.’ She shrugged. ‘Tough times. But it taught me how to look after myself.’
There was a shadow of sadness in her eyes when she finally looked up at him.
Instinctively, he reached out, giving her arm a sympathetic squeeze. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Ah, don’t be. I’m okay.’
‘That must have been really hard for you.’
She shrugged. ‘I survived.’
‘No wonder you’re so driven.’
Taking a step back, she leant against the wall of the hotel. ‘Yeah, well, I wanted to do something good with my life. I wanted to feel like my mum would be proud of me, had she survived. She only made it to forty-four before the cancer killed her. How can that be right? She was a good person. A kind and loving person.’
Her sadness hung thickly in the air between them.
‘Some days, life seems anything but fair.’
‘Ain’t that the truth?’
The haunted look in her eyes broke him.
‘Okay, come with me,’ he ordered, scooping up her rucksack from the ground and slinging it over his shoulder, then setting off back down the street in the direction she’d come from.
It took a moment for her to come running after him.
‘Where are you going with my bag?’ she demanded, her breath coming out in short pants after her sprint.
‘You’ll see.’
‘Julien, give it back to me!’
‘I will, when we get there.’
‘Where?’
