‘I think she’s focusing on her new dream now, so don’t worry too much about it, Will.’
That was news to him. ‘What new dream?’ His gut churned, dreading Robson would say she was moving away.
‘She’s moving.’
Will’s rotten cold seem to escalate, making him slightly light-headed. ‘Leaving?’ He cleared his throat, acting as if it was the soreness that caused his word to break, rather than his deflated heart.
‘Only inland. She’s in talks with Artie Lane about buying his dad’s old farmhouse. Reckons she’s going to have rescue chickens or something. I’m sure she mentioned a donkey, unless that was something to do with Christmas.’
Will laughed to himself.
Ah, Ginny, you go for it, love.
‘If you like her, Will, don’t hang about, eh, mate? If my life can teach you anything, it’s life’s too short.’
Right there and then, in among the muffled chimes of fairground music and the faint scent of Robson’s fish and chip supper, Will decided it was time to rearrange his own plans. His friend was right. Life was short, and he needed to live out what time he had left as best he could.
‘Achoo!’
But first he needed a good night’s sleep.
Chapter 20
Ginny
Placing the last black bin bag in the wheelie bin at the end of the pathway, Ginny gazed back at her mum’s house. There was no sentiment attached to the place where she grew up. She just hoped the next family to move in were happier than hers.
A magpie fluttered by the chimney, gaining Ginny’s attention. Her gaze lowered to the window below and a wave of regret hit her. What a terrible life she’d had in that place, and for what? Because her mum hated her dad? How was that her fault?
‘You have his eyes,’ Birdy would say, her words filled with venom.
Ginny absentmindedly touched beneath her eye.
‘Right, we’re done,’ said Suzanne, appearing on the doorstep. ‘The housing officer should be here any minute to check the place over, then you can give her the door keys, okay?’
Sighing deeply, Ginny nodded. ‘Yep.’ She gave Suzanne a hug, then handed her some money as an extra thank you.
There was no argument from the care worker. She quickly shoved the cash in her pocket, smiled, then headed off.
In a way, Ginny was glad Suzanne was gone. As great as she was as a carer, she cost a small fortune. At least now all savings could go towards the farmhouse she was buying from Artie Lane.
The street was pretty quiet, even the curtain twitchers were too busy engrossed in daytime telly to bother with the last day the Deans would be seen there.
Ginny went inside and slowly walked around the property, recalling the voices, scenes, and faces of yesteryear. It was quite surreal seeing the emptiness of the place.
She opened the cupboard door under the stairs and stared at the back wall for a moment before lowering to her knees to peer inside.
Along the other side of the doorframe, scratched into the wood, was her name.
‘Stay there until you grow a brain,’ spat Birdy, slamming the door shut.
Ginny lightly traced one finger over the etching.
‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself, young lady, for ruining my life. Why can’t you be like other kids?’ sobbed Birdy.
Straightening, Ginny gently closed the door and looked down the hallway to the kitchen.
‘I could put you in care, but I don’t. The least you can do is cook the bloody dinner. Why is your homework more important than that?’
