We stood on the dusty railway platform, Ivy and I, saying our goodbyes.
The August sun burned down, making my hangover worse. (It turned out that Ivy’s home-made rhubarb and ginger wine was rather more potent than even she had realised.) I thought longingly of the cool interior of the train, imagining myself sinking into a seat and closing my eyes to ease the ache that was pulsing at my temples. My journey from the Cotswolds up to Manchester involved several changes with a long wait between connections, but it had to be done. I was due back at work in the café next day. Not to mention the fact that I was keen, as usual, to escape the countryside and get back to my home in the city, even though I hated leaving Ivy.
‘Will you get a taxi at the other end?’ Ivy looked worriedly at my weekend bag, which was stuffed so full, the zip was in danger of bursting. ‘That looks really heavy.’
I nudged her affectionately, hoisting the bag further up my shoulder. ‘I’ll survive. Don’t worry. I’m a big girl now.’
She smiled, forget-me-not blue eyes crinkling at the corners, her face tanned golden brown and etched with lines from a summer spent in the garden. ‘You might have just turned the ripe old age of thirty, but I’m always going to worry. Show me a grandma who doesn’t.’
‘Especially one who’s a mum and dad to me as well.’ I pulled her into a hug, which was a little awkward because of the bag.
‘I’ll phone you when I get back to Manchester,’ I added when she didn’t reply.
Pulling back, I realised she hadn’t even heard me. She was staring directly over my shoulder at the opposite platform, and I turned, wondering what had caught her attention. Around a dozen people with bags and suitcases – some in little groups – were standing waiting for their train to arrive.
‘What is it?’ I asked, not recognising anyone.
The intensity in her eyes took me by surprise. ‘There’s something I need to tell you, Holly,’ she murmured.
I felt a twinge of apprehension but disguised it with a laugh. ‘That your rhubarb and ginger wine is at least thirty per cent proof? It’s all right. I already know that, to my cost!’
She gripped my forearms. ‘Can you take a later train?’
I shook my head. ‘This is the last one of the day.’
‘So
