‘Yes. Come on. I’m parked in the lay-by just through thathedge,’ he says, pointing.
‘You don’t mind? It would just be to my B&B in Sunnybrook.’Then a realisation hits and I shake my head. ‘It’s no use. My car would stillbe at the house.’
‘I can drive you over to Sycamore House after you’ve...done what you need to do?’
‘I couldn’t ask you to do that.’
‘I’m not doing anything else.’ He grins. ‘And it’s a lovelyday for a drive.’
‘Well, if you’re sure. I just need to pick up something fromthe B&B.’
If the letters are still there.
‘Okay. Let’s go.’
It takes just five minutes to drive back to the guesthouseand Liam waits for me while I dive in and run upstairs to my room. There’s nosign of the cleaning cart and I’ve a sinking feeling that they might alreadyhave been in my room. But when I burst in, to my huge relief, I see that thebin hasn’t been emptied yet.
I pull out the flimsy plastic liner and carefully fish outall the scraps of torn paper, making sure I’ve rescued every single one. Thankgoodness I didn’t bother making a cuppa first thing! A soggy teabag would havemade a proper mess...
Aware that Liam’s waiting for me downstairs, I place the scrapsof paper in my bedside drawer for now. And as I run down the stairs and out to hiscar, it occurs to me that my visit to the hide – and all the memories that havebeen flooding back, both good and bad – must account for my change of heartabout rescuing the letters and holding onto them.
‘Sorted?’ asks Liam, starting the engine.
‘Yes. Thank you.’ I sink back in the seat with a sigh. I’mnot even desperate to read the letters again. I just didn’t want to lose them...just in case...
I watch the scenery rushing by, thinking about my childhood.It wasn’t all bad. There were good times, too. Lots of them.
It’s as if I’m finally allowing myself to acknowledge that.
Dad was lovely when he wasn’t drinking. I adored him when Iwas little and I know the feeling was mutual. He’d have done anything for Dylanand me. Well, everything except give up drinking, which is how we lost him toliver failure. But I’m starting to realise that his addiction to alcohol was anillness that he just couldn’t recover from, no matter how many times he tried.
And Mum?
There’s no doubt she must have gone through hell, having towatch the man she loved being destroyed by drink. But that can never,everbe an excuse for what she did – walking out on her kids. We were in bits,having just lost our dad.
How could she do that? Just leave us and never once lookback?
I can just about understand her being so overwhelmed withdespair when Dad died that she wasn’t thinking straight. Perhaps she imagined, crazedwith grief, that her only option was to run away from the pain and thedevastation?
But what I’ve never been able to understand was why shenever came back...
I suddenly realise Liam is asking me about the wall andtalking about his friend who he’s saying completely gutted his own house andredesigned it. ‘Rich is pretty much a jack-of-all-trades. I could speak to himabout your renovations if you like.’ He shrugs. ‘It’s up to you. He’s a goodbloke, though, and he’d do a great job. I’ll be seeing him later. I could askhim how he’s fixed?’
‘Right.’ I nod, thinking about this.
‘You need a wall taken down, right? And some plastering?’ Hegrins. ‘Unless you’re thinking of doing the plastering work yourself? I believeyou did mention that you could plaster a wall with the best of them?’
‘And I can, yes. Why are you laughing?’ I demand, my hacklesrising a little.
He shakes his head. ‘I’m not. I think it’s great. I supposeI was just hoping you were better at plastering than knocking down walls withsledgehammers, that’s all.’
‘Yes, well. The less said about that the better.’ I purse mylips, only slightly annoyed at him. ‘I was very angry at Eddie that day.’
‘You really were. I was a bit scared.’
‘No, you weren’t!’
‘Oh, yes, I was.’ His eyes twinkle over at me. ‘I wasconvinced you were going to swing your weapon in my direction at one stage.’
