the wrong direction and then she’d notice and grab the steering wheel and coerce it into going back onto the route she’d planned for it.
She didn’t want to think of him.
If anything, she should want to think of her mother, who’d been wonderful and loving and resourceful. She’d been gone ten years now. If she’d known their time together was going to be cut short, she’d have asked more questions. Or maybe not. In her twenties, she wouldn’t have known the right things to ask. Maybe it was only now she was older with one bad marriage behind her herself, that she wished she could ask Mum if it had been the same for her.
At least she’d separated from her toxic husband. Why hadn’t Mum left her father? Why had she waited for him to do it to her? Why hadn’t she ever stood up to him? After he’d left, she’d blossomed into being the bright and funny and strong woman Claire would always choose to remember her as.
Suddenly, a question popped free, one she hadn’t realised she’d needed the answer to until it left her mouth. She glanced across at Maggs. ‘Did he ever hit her? My mother?’
They kept walking, but something about the atmosphere between them changed. The air grew stiller, thicker.
He hadn’t ever hit Claire, although she’d always been afraid he might. She could remember a specific look in his eye that had always made her stomach quiver. A tingle of cold ran up her spine now, just thinking about it.
Maggs kept her focus straight ahead. When they reached Claire’s car, she stopped and turned to face her. ‘Honestly? I don’t know … Maybe.’
Claire nodded.
She was starting to fear she’d known the answer for a long time, but just hadn’t dared face it.
She unlocked the car and opened the door for Maggs. When they were both settled inside, before she turned the key in the ignition, Maggs spoke again. ‘I know Laurie was always worried for your mother when he got into one of his moods. We didn’t talk about it. People didn’t in our day. It was the sort of shameful thing you just swept under the carpet, but I guessed she suspected what her son was capable of.’
Claire shook her head. ‘I don’t understand it. How did such a lovely woman as my grandmother raise such a cruel, dysfunctional son?’
Maggs let out a heavy breath. ‘You don’t remember much about your grandfather, do you?’
‘No,’ Claire replied slowly. Just a vague memory of a stern man with white hair.
‘I keep thinking about him recently,’ Maggs said quietly, all the usual sass and sarcasm gone from her voice. It made her sound younger, less invincible. ‘I never liked him, you know, not even right back at the start. Maybe I was jealous he stole my best friend, or maybe I just saw a little bit into Laurie’s future. I don’t know …’ She breathed in sharply. ‘Anyway, I think he had a lot to do with how your father turned out.’
Claire shook her head. She’d never heard Maggs talk like this before. Maybe it was the gin she’d been nipping from her hip flask that evening. In the darkened room while they watched the film, she’d seen little flashes in the gloom as the street lamp outside had reflected off the shiny metal.
She pondered that as she turned the key in the ignition and revved the engine, shattering the fog-like silence that had settled around them.
‘I’m surprised Gran didn’t ever marry again after he died,’ she said, her tone light, as she indicated and pulled away. ‘She was still a very attractive woman, even into her fifties.’
‘I thought the same about Cathy. Your mother wasn’t short on admirers once your father had cleared off, you know.’
Claire nodded. She had memories of a couple of well-dressed men coming to the house with bunches of flowers, of them taking her mother out to dinner while Mrs Winfield from next door babysat, but there hadn’t been many and they’d usually disappeared after four or five dates.
That had been sad too. Mum had been so pretty and funny. She’d had a way of making everyone feel included, as if she’d allowed them entrance to a special club where everything would always feel safe and warm and fun. When Claire had asked if she had a boyfriend, her mother had laughed the suggestion off. She’d said she was much more interested in taking care of Claire, and it wasn’t the right time to get serious about anyone.
At the time, Claire had assumed this was just another selfless act of love on her mother’s part, but now she wondered if there had been another reason.
‘Runs in the family, doesn’t it?’ Maggs said, as they navigated the narrow back streets almost empty of traffic. ‘First Laurie, then Cathy … And you haven’t seen anyone else since Philip.’
That was just what Claire needed to pop her out of this rather maudlin mood she and Maggs had created between them. She chuckled softly to herself. She should have known better than to broach this kind of subject with Maggs. ‘Don’t be daft,’ she replied. ‘It’s completely different. It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just not the right time. I need to focus on the business at the moment …’
She trailed off and her mother’s voice echoed in her ears: It’s just not the right time, Claire, love. I think my focus should be on you at the moment …
She shook that thought away as she craned her head to see out of an awkward junction. ‘Anyway,’ she said, pulling out the trump card she’d almost forgotten about, ‘I’ve got a date tomorrow.’
She could feel Maggs’s beady eyes on her as she concentrated on the road. ‘Oh, yes?’ Maggs said, her pitch as high as Claire imagined her eyebrows were. ‘Anyone nice?’
Yes, Claire thought to herself, but that was the problem. Nice and not much else, but telling Maggs that wouldn’t get her off her back. However, there were a few pertinent facts about the man in question that might.
‘His name is Doug Martin and he’s a client. And before you ask, yes, he’s single. He’s also rich and very attentive. He’s taking me to a party at The Hamilton.’
She risked a sideways glance to gauge Maggs’s reaction. Maggs was looking suitably impressed. Claire smiled to herself. Distraction manoeuvre complete.
‘Sid and I went dancing there on New Year’s Eve once,’ she said wistfully. ‘It was the toast of the town then. Shame that it fell into such disrepair.’
‘It will be again, if the new owner has anything to do with it,’ Claire said, ‘and there’ll be some very useful contacts at that party.’
‘Hmm,’ Maggs said. ‘You’re going out with a rich, attentive man and the thing you’re most pleased about is what it can do for your career. Now tell me, what’s wrong with this picture?’
‘Nothing,’ Claire said haughtily. ‘Mixing business with pleasure is how us youngsters do it these days.’
‘Ouch,’ Maggs said, and let out a reluctant chuckle. ‘Touché, Miss Bixby. But just you make sure there’s more pleasure than business in this scenario, okay?’
She made the turn into Maggs’s road. ‘I’ll do my best.’
‘I know that look,’ Maggs muttered. ‘You’ve worn the same one since
