‘Mum?’ Ginny rested her head down upon her mother’s forehead. ‘Please wake up.’
Suzanne shuffled closer, resting a hand over Ginny’s back. ‘She’s gone, love.’
‘No. No.’ Ginny sobbed. That couldn’t be true. How could it? They just spoke in the car. Ginny had told her they were going home. They were going to have dinner in the café. How could she suddenly be dead? Nothing made sense. Not Suzanne, not the paramedics, and certainly not her tough-as-old-boots mother.
‘Come on, Gin. Let the paramedics do their job,’ whispered Suzanne.
‘Job? Job? She’s not a job. She’s my mum!’ Ginny burst into tears, unable to control the air restricting her lungs. Maybe she was having a heart attack too. Perhaps it would be for the best. After all, she had killed her mother.
Suzanne brought her to a stand, leaning her against the old army jeep. ‘Just wait here. I’ll sort everything.’
What was there to sort? Ginny knew she should be the one lying on the grassy verge, dead. How could she have put her mum through so much stress? She was a bad daughter. The worst. All those years, her mother had been right. Ginny Dean, you’re worthless. Can’t even look after your mum when she’s poorly.
Ginny stared at the sky. More snow was due. Light, but snow all the same. Her thoughts drifted to the hotel with the chickens and donkey. She should have run away years ago like the Henshaws, then she wouldn’t have been such a waste of space.
It was nice having a dream of a different life for a while. She was married, living in a farmhouse, she rescued animals during the day and snuggled with her husband every night. But that’s all it was. A dream. She wasn’t even speaking to Will. How could she have her happy farm life with him?
Her gaze went back to her mum being wheeled away to an ambulance. What life did she have? What life did she ever have? That stupidBlue Manboat only existed in her sleep, and the cold light of day was all that was left.
Ginny sat in her car, holding the steering wheel, not knowing what to do or where to go. Numbness took charge. That and the power of failure. Her mother’s voice rang in her ears, haunting her. Nothing new. Birdy always haunted her. What difference would death make?
‘I’ll drive,’ said Suzanne, her voice coming out of nowhere.
It didn’t matter who did what. Nothing mattered anymore. Life had changed once again, but this time someone died because of her actions.
‘I killed my mum,’ she whispered, climbing out of the vehicle.
‘No, you didn’t. Don’t say such a thing, Ginny. You listening?’ Suzanne’s voice faded into the icy breeze, and everything turned black.
Chapter 17
Will
Pulling up in the car park of Meadow House, Will was pleased to see the snow-cleared pathways. The large red-brick building was home to around eighty residents and had an excellent report for the past five years. He had no complaints about how well everything always looked.
Will passed by two large fake plants flanking the wide arched oak door. The scent of vanilla hit him as he entered the light and airy foyer. He approached the chunky desk, said hello to the lady sitting behind tapping away on a keyboard, signed in, then headed off to his grandmother’s room.
A woman around his age waved and came out of a doorway along the corridor. She raised the small amount of knitting in her hand. ‘Hey, Will. Nan’s got me making a jumper. It’s possible this is a cuff.’ She laughed as she gestured to the room behind her. ‘Bless her, she really misses being able to knit, and I don’t know what I’m doing.’
Will glanced at the wool, then his hands, feeling blessed he didn’t have arthritis. ‘How’s she getting on, Nat?’
‘All right, mostly. It’s a shame when your mind is fully there but your body lets you down.’
He wasn’t sure what was worse, especially as he got to see his grandmother fading away. ‘There’s a blessing and a curse to getting old, isn’t there? Anyway, best go see Gran,’ he said, thumbing down the corridor. ‘Good luck with your knitting.’
The woman went back to her grandmother, and Will heard them laughing.
It was heart-warming to witness families with so much love. He wished he had a backstory filled with weekend get-togethers and birthday celebrations.
The time spent with Ginny at the Happy Honeymoon Hotel was the most fun he’d had in ages. Acting like a couple, cuddling on the sofa, sharing a bed, even though just to sleep, it was so perfect in every way, and he missed her already. Missed that pretend life.
Will stopped to gaze out the window at the side garden. The winding pathway was clear, but the green patch that led to the pond was topped with snow. It looked so pretty untouched, and the water in the near distance finished off the tranquil scene nicely.
‘Afternoon, Will,’ said a male carer, passing by.
‘Hi, Seth.’ Will turned from the view, happy his grandmother was in such a beautiful home with such friendly staff. He glanced up at the security cameras, thinking he should get a wriggle on before someone watching might wonder why he was lurking.
A wide lift at the end of the corridor took him to the first floor, where he made his way three doors down to Babs’s room.
