own.
It took no more than fifteen minutes to drive along the coast road past the marina, Ed and Kev’s donkey sanctuary, then a wide and wild stretch of wasteland apparently about to be developed. Just after that they reached the narrow spur of Bay Lane that would be easy to miss for anyone who didn’t know it was there, for the main road curved sharply away from the shore at that point to continue on to the lower reaches of Westleigh Heights. The Heights, as the area was more commonly known, was where Michelle’s family had always lived. It was also where Vivi and Mark had lived during the time their mother had been married to Gil. After the break-up they’d returned to their grandmother’s house on Bay Lane.
Most of the properties on the lane, now used as holiday homes, were set back behind high wooden gates and protective laurel bushes. Number eight wasn’t much different, except the gates were always open and the hedges were low enough to see across the lane to the dunes and estuary beyond. Gil pulled into the drive and came to a stop in front of the double-fronted Edwardian house where an Audi convertible was already parked. Gina’s VW Beetle was presumably tucked away in the garage, and Vivi felt her spirits sink even lower as she remembered that she was no longer allowed to drive.
However, one look at Michelle’s wonderful, freckly face as she came out of the house was a tonic she hadn’t expected. The joy of seeing her, of realizing she was going to be there for her, was helping, if only for a few moments, to lift her from the misery she was in.
After hugging carefully and tearfully, Vivi gazed into Michelle’s tender blue eyes and saw straight away that the bond they’d always shared was still there. They didn’t need words to express it, they could both feel it and that was enough. There would be time later for talking, for trying to come to terms with what was happening and how they were going to cope. For now Vivi allowed Michelle to take her into the house, so glad she was there that it took her a moment to register the familiar scent of the place. It transported her back over many years, confusing her with emotions as all kinds of memories flashed up, and nostalgia closed in on her like the tide lapping the shore outside. The hallway was long and only just wide enough for the two friends to walk side by side past the old telephone table and coat hooks towards the foot of the carpeted stairs. They stopped at the threshold of the room NanaBella had always called her best room. It occupied the whole of the right side of the house with views out to the beach through the bay window at the front, and French doors to the garden at the back. The door to the left led to the kitchen-diner and family room for everyday use. NanaBella had entertained Gil in the best room when he was dating Gina, wanting to impress him and make him feel welcome as though he was someone very special, which he was.
Apparently her mother had asked Michelle to get the room ready for Vivi, and it was clear from the pillow arrangement, scented candles and new Smart TV beside the old-fashioned tiled fireplace that Michelle had done her best, but it wasn’t what Vivi wanted.
‘I’m not an invalid,’ she growled, when she saw that the small double bed from the guest room had been set up in place of NanaBella’s rosewood dining table. ‘I can get up the stairs.’ It might take her a while to achieve it, but she was determined to try.
‘No one’s saying you can’t,’ her mother replied evenly. ‘I just thought it would be nice for you to have your own room for entertaining – and, well, it’s a place you can call your own.’
Vivi said, ‘So what are you going to do for a sitting room?’
Gina’s eyes stayed on her, but her cheeks were flushed with colour, showing how upset and sorry she was that she’d apparently got it wrong. ‘We have the one we’ve always used,’ she reminded her.
Vivi decided not to protest any further because Gil, Mark and Michelle were clearly feeling embarrassed and sorry for Gina, and who could blame them?
‘I expect the kettle’s boiled by now,’ Michelle said cheerfully. ‘Let’s go and have some tea.’
Vivi stayed where she was, looking around the large, rectangular room with its cream and yellow flowered wallpaper and NanaBella’s mustard-colour three-piece suite. The sofa converted to a bed and had always been used when the house was full at Christmas or for birthdays – and now for when a dying daughter might have a visitor? It was so depressingly outdated, and so different from her wonderful flat in Chelsea that she wanted to sob. Aware that she might damage herself if she gave in to too much emotion, she put a hand to the implant in her shoulder, feeling its sharp edges through her skin, and let tears drop onto her cheeks. Her conscience was flooding her with beautiful, happy memories of times spent in this room when sparkling Christmas trees had filled the niche next to the fireplace, and when she’d helped NanaBella to set the table for all kinds of special occasions.
How could she be so ungrateful and mean about the room NanaBella had been so proud of? The room she’d apparently once helped her grandpa to wallpaper when she was three (no doubt causing havoc); where she used to practise her ballet for her mother and NanaBella, and where she’d watched NanaBella weep tears of joy as she’d taken a day-old Mark from Gil to cradle him in her arms.
Now her mother had turned this special place into hers, to try to make her life easier.
‘OK?’ Mark said softly, sliding an arm round her shoulder and putting a mug of tea into her hand.
‘I will be,’ she promised. She rested her head against him, inhaling the earthy, tangy smell that was so familiar and comforting it made her want to weep again. ‘Have I upset her?’ she asked, briefly closing her eyes.
‘She’ll get over it.’
Her gaze went to a sideboard where photographs of them both at various stages of their lives were displayed in silver and leather frames. There were several of their grandparents too, at their wedding, her christening, Mark’s first birthday party, but there was only one of their mother, with Vivi and Mark at Vivi’s graduation.
There used to be one of Gina and Gil on their wedding day, but it had been taken down soon after they’d broken up and Gina had returned to live with her mother.
‘I don’t know why I feel so angry with her,’ she said. ‘It’s like I’m blaming her for what’s happening when it obviously isn’t her fault.’
‘I heard Dad telling her that it was natural to lash out at people you love when you’re feeling afraid. She probably knew that already, but I think it helped her to hear it.’
Vivi felt sure it had.
Michelle appeared and drew her into a careful embrace.
‘I won’t break,’ Vivi promised, relaxing into the feel of her, and wishing it could be just the two of them, though not wanting Mark to leave. Or Gil. Or her mother.
‘You look tired,’ Michelle told her.
Vivi’s weary eyes managed a spark. ‘If you’re about to tell me to lie down then don’t,’ she warned, meaning it to sound like a mock rebuke, but it didn’t quite come out that way.
‘I wasn’t,’ Michelle assured her, apparently unfazed. ‘It was just a comment. I’ll trust you to know when you need to eat or sleep or pee or whatever you fancy. Mum’s just texted to ask if you’re feeling up to having dinner at her place tonight. All of you,’ she added, looking at Mark.
Not wanting to admit that she wasn’t up to it, while feeling grateful for the way Michelle and her family were drawing her back into the fold, Vivi looked round as Gil called out, ‘Hey, son, can you give me a hand to bring this lot in?’
