Page 111 of Broken Beyond Repair
“I’d like to see the harbour. Bring the bag, Sydney.” Beatrice backed herself out the way she’d come and waited on the pavement.
“Is she always like this?” Rhona asked once Beatrice was out of earshot.
Sydney grinned. “Not always. Just most of the time.”
On reflection, Beatrice had been a bit off since they’d arrived that morning. Was it a case of nerves over meeting her mum? The previous night she’d been all smiles and giggles after they’d made love for the second time. Sydney preferred the softer, loving, relaxed version of her girlfriend, though she could more than cope with the bossy one too. Bossy Beatrice was a turn-on.
They joined Beatrice outside and walked down the hill to the harbour. The air was clear, allowing them to see for miles out to sea. Your eyes were best fixed on that as the small town itself wasn’t much to look at. It’s drab architecture and empty streets made it feel like something from dystopian film. When met with a backdrop of grey skies and rain it was frankly depressing. The cheap Christmas lights certainly didn’t add anything to the view, especially when they were turned off.
On her last visit, Sydney had calculated that the whole town would easily fit within the boundaries of Beatrice’s estate. It was best to keep that to herself; she didn’t want to overwhelm her mum with exactly how rich her girlfriend was. It was difficult enough trying to convince her to take a sizeable portion of the payment she’d been given for her contribution to Beatrice’s book.
The new contract for her role as co-author said 25 percent of royalties. It wasn’t until a six-figure sum arrived in her bank account that she realised it meant 25 percent of the disgustingly large advance Beatrice had received. She’d phoned Alison immediately to raise what she thought must have been a grave error. It wasn’t.
It turned out to be a worthwhile conversation to have. Alison asked what her plans were for the future. At the time, with Beatrice on the other side of the world, they had included drowning herself in a vat of wine and consuming a fraction more popcorn than the average human could take. Thankfully she managed to construct a sentence which included the words ‘I want to write’.
Alison asked if she could send her book on to a few people and put the feelers out. Sydney was flabbergasted to hear that she even had a copy of her book. Four weeks later she received a text from Alison with a number to call. It happened to be the number of one of the top agents in one of the top agencies in London.
James sobbed, of course, when Sydney called to put in her notice with his agency. So much so he had to hang up and call her back. He blamed himself for pushing her into the clutches of Beatrice in the first place. She would miss her job, but she was going to enjoy being a full-time writer so much more.
As they reached the harbour, Sydney naturally guided them to the spot she’d stood in only a week before, a time when the world was somewhat bleak.
Beatrice lifted her sunglasses on top of her head, causing her blonde waves to bounce attractively around her face. “Open the bag please, Sydney.”
She set it down and opened the zip to find two rectangular boxes. Opening one, she extracted a bag of light grey ash.
Sydney grimaced. “Oh… Bea.”
“I don’t want them in the house, and the harsh North Sea is the best place to dispose of them as far as I’m concerned. I, erm… I hoped you might do it for me. I can’t give them the satisfaction of doing the act myself. I also wondered if scattering something may help you both.” Beatrice flicked her hand dismissively. “You don’t have to. Sorry… it’s probably a thoughtless idea.”
Rhona flattened her lips as she reached out and hugged her. The wide-eyed look on Beatrice’s face told Sydney the reaction was far from what she’d expected.
Pulling back, Rhona wiped her nose with a fistful of tissues she pulled from her coat pocket. “I read your autobiography, Beatrice, and I’m sorry for what your parents put you through. I can’t even imagine what they were thinking to treat their own flesh and blood in that way.” Rhona rested her hand on Beatrice’s arm. “They didn’t deserve you, and it’s not a thoughtless idea. You need help and we’re here for you. Aren’t we love?”
Sydney nodded and looked to Beatrice, only to find her blurry. Blinking away the moisture in her eyes, she asked, “Are you sure?”
A firm nod was all she received. If Beatrice and her mum were happy, then she was too. It may bring some closure, if only symbolically, and she appreciated the intent behind Beatrice’s request. She of all people knew what it meant to her to have her parents out of her life once and for all. If she couldn’t bring herself to scatter them herself, they would haunt her to her dying day if someone else didn’t do it for her.
Sydney passed the bag of ash to her mum, then wiped her eyes before taking the bag from the second box.
“Do you want to know who’s who?” she asked.
“No. Don’t care,” Beatrice sniffed, taking a giant step back.
Sydney and Rhona opened the bags and leaned over the railings.
“Ready?” Sydney asked her mum.
Rhona nodded, and together they shook the ashes over the harbour. The wind swept them up and carried them out over the sea. Turning to check on Beatrice, Sydney noticed a glistening in her eye. It was more likely a tear shed for everything she’d lost because of her parents rather than from the actual loss of them.
Beatrice wiped it quickly with her glove and dropped her sunglasses back down.
“It’s eye-wateringly chilly today,” she said, by way of explanation.
“Are you sure you won’t join us next week, Rhona?” Beatrice asked as she watched Sydney put the last bag into Gertie. “I can send a car or arrange a flight.”
“No, I’m happy stopping here, thank you. You two lovebirds have a lovely first Christmas together. Now go and enjoy Edinburgh.”
Beatrice instigated the hug with Rhona this time. “We will. It was lovely to meet you.”
