Page 49 of Broken Beyond Repair
“That was good of you… thank you,” Beatrice said, squeezing the last two words from herself. Alison would do anything for her, she knew that, yet she could see that a little more verbal gratitude was appropriate here, for her oldest friend.
“You’re… welcome,” Alison stuttered, clearly unfamiliar with those words coming from Beatrice. “There’s the slight issue of the ashes. Your mother’s ashes were in a cardboard box in a wardrobe, and there are your fathers, too, along with a few photo albums. I had Tom put them in your car.”
Beatrice flashed her a smile of appreciation, not wishing to appear ungrateful for all the work Alison carried out on her behalf with closing her father’s estate, though the unwelcome mementoes were something she could have done without.
“That reminds me… photoshoot. As soon as the cast is off, we need something for the book cover. I thought we could do it at your house.”
“Great idea.” She couldn’t face coming into London again so soon. “I have an appointment booked at the end of next week, so I should have a better idea by then of how it’s healing.”
“How are the dreaded early years coming along?”
“Slow. I feel like I’m writing more tripe that Sydney will have to rewrite.”
“Then stop. She’s nearly finished the work on your adult years from the look of what you sent me last. Sit down with her, talk to her about your childhood, and describe how you felt about what happened. Let her listen and write; then you only need think about your flow of thoughts. Allow her to hear your voice; it’s your voice the audience wants to hear.”
Beatrice toyed with her butter knife. “That’s a lot of trust to put in someone I hardly know.”
“Then get to know her. It’s always easier to talk to a friend, and the two of you have a few weeks ahead of you yet.”
Beatrice wasn’t convinced she could sit down and pour her childhood out to a stranger; she could barely pour it into a laptop. Was Sydney a stranger? The woman had witnessed her at her worst. The fact she was still at Highwood was a wonder, and probably had more to do with the credit she would receive for helping with the book. Would she still be hanging around if there was no book? Beatrice gulped and pushed the thought away; she didn’t want to think about the answer.
“If she’s earned your respect, give it to her, I say,” Alison said as she flagged the waiter for more drinks. “She’s certainly earned mine. Why is she even working as a PA, I’d like to know. What a waste.”
Beatrice mused on that. Sydney certainly earned more of her respect than any of her other PAs, but that was hardly a gold star achievement. There was so much she didn’t know about the woman. How on earth was she going to get to know her when they were barely on speaking terms?
CHAPTER20
“Where would you like this bag to be put?” Sydney asked as Beatrice collapsed onto the sofa in the kitchen.
Beatrice peered over the back of it and scrutinised the bag.
“Throw it anywhere?” she offered.
“The bin?” Sydney asked with a hint of sarcasm.
“Yes, for all I care.”
Sydney frowned. “What is it?”
“My parents’ ashes.”
“Seriously?” Sydney grimaced, understanding now why it was so heavy. Just as she had begun to understand Beatrice a little, here she was, perplexing her again. Whatever her problem with her dad was, it extended to her mum. Not everyone was lucky enough to have the ashes of a loved one when they were gone.
She would need to hold her tongue. Beatrice had been correct the other night: she did have no idea about that part of her past. Her parents hadn’t made an appearance in the parts of the book Sydney had seen so far. Beatrice was all alone at eighteen, that much she did know.
With no further communication from her employer, she decided it would be best to place the ashes in the under-stair cupboard for the moment.
“I’ll make us some dinner,” Sydney said as she re-entered the kitchen.
“Thank you.”
There it was again — a word of gratitude. Beatrice had listened; she was trying to do better.
Sydney took a deep breath and perched on the coffee table in front of her.
“I’d like to apologise for the way I spoke to you the other evening. It wasn’t very professional, which doesn’t sit right with me. I would like to make it clear that I’m not apologising for what I said about your behaviour towards me. That I meant.”
Beatrice turned her head away whilst her eyes swept up to bore into Sydney for a moment before she lowered them to the floor.
