‘Mum…’ Alistair prompted her when she failed to give a reply.
‘Not that long, but it’s not your job to worry.’
‘You can have my money from Granny.’ Sebastian delivered his offer firmly, adding, ‘No question about it. I haven’t spent a penny of it. I don’t need it right now; you do.’
‘Sebastian, I can’t take your money.’
‘I’ll bet Granny left it to us so Dad couldn’t get at it,’ Alistair put in before he offered his share too.
‘He’s right, isn’t he?’ Sebastian asked.
She nodded. ‘Your granny changed her will.’
‘Do you have your own bank account?’ Sebastian asked her. ‘One that Dad doesn’t have access to.’
‘I do.’
And before she knew it she’d been talked into giving them both her bank details and agreed to receive the transfers. ‘But it is a loan – I won’t budge on that,’ she said. ‘Once I get a job I’ll pay you both back every single penny.’
‘Mum, as long as you are safe and happy, that’s all we care about,’ said Sebastian, his brother chiming in his agreement.
They stayed on the call. She recapped on how she’d left, that she’d emailed Perry, that her things were in storage. She assured them they weren’t to worry about her, that for the first time in a long while, she actually felt a modicum of happiness about her life.
Her eyes sparkled with tears. Her two beautiful boys. ‘I’ll keep you up to date. With everything.’ She took in both boys’ expressions. They didn’t seem shocked or even that surprised. Had she been blinkered for so long that she was the only one who hadn’t seen how bad things were?
‘Love you, Mum,’ Sebastian said as they prepared to wrap up the call. She didn’t really want to let them go. And then he asked, ‘What did you do with all my postcards?’
His question brought a smile to her face. ‘I brought them all with me.’ He didn’t need to hear that his dad had thrown them out, nor that that had been the final straw.
‘Do you think you’ll settle in Dorset?’ Alistair asked her before they said their goodbyes.
‘I don’t know yet. For now, I’m here.’
And more to the point, she was no longer with Perry.
The world was opening up in front of her. Maybe at long last she would get to do something for herself.
13
BONNIE
Bonnie was still in her nightie standing in the back room of the cottage staring out of the window. The view was nothing like usual with a mist hanging so low the sea was no longer visible.
She turned round, put a hand gently against the urn on the bookshelf. The urn was filled with Howard’s ashes. Howard’s cremation had happened incredibly quickly compared to others she’d heard about. A friend of theirs who died last year had passed away a good six weeks before the crematorium had a slot available. Summer was obviously a better time to go – Howard would’ve laughed at that; he’d always had a good sense of humour. She’d invited all their closest friends to the cremation and the wake in Reading where they’d bought their first home together and where they’d stayed until they’d moved to the bay after their travels. It had made sense to do it there and her friend, Beverly, had helped her organise it and get through the toughest parts. Bonnie had gone through the motions, which was easy enough given Howard had already told her what he wanted when the time came – a humanist ceremony, cremation, and his ashes to be scattered in the sea. She supposed she was grateful he’d outlined his wishes – they both had.
She should get ready. She headed for the bathroom but as she passed the front door she heard a knock. She contemplated not answering it, she’d done that plenty of times over the last few weeks, but the person on the other side had probably seen her form pass by the window to one side.
She opened it to Iris who had been checking up on her frequently either in this way or with a quick phone call – quick because Bonnie always made it that way. She supposed she should be grateful that people weren’t giving up on her when sometimes she felt like giving up on herself.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Bonnie,’ she said apologetically. ‘You’re not dressed.’
‘I had some letters to deal with this morning,’ she lied. She didn’t want to admit that this was an all-too-common occurrence these days.
‘Do you need anything? Food, errands run? It’s just that I’m at a bit of a loose end… without work, you know.’
‘I’m sorry. I know how that feels.’ Iris had been Howard’s assistant in the bookshop on a part-time basis. She was three years younger than Bonnie and much like Howard, her love of books had drawn her to keep on working.
‘Don’t you apologise – I understand why you closed the shop.’
