She shrugged. ‘I knew it would go that way at some point – just wasn’t expecting it quite so soon.’
Her tone was bright but it was clear to me that the news had hit her hard.
‘I think we could both use some cheering up,’ I said. ‘How about we go out and grab a pub lunch somewhere?’
Mam smiled. ‘Sounds good. Anywhere in mind?’
‘Let’s just drive and see where it takes us. I’ll see if Maddie wants to join us, but I doubt it.’
I knocked lightly on the door to Maddie’s bedroom. When there was no answer, I knocked again and opened it, the light from the window behind me casting a beam across Maddie’s face.
‘Urgh! Too bright!’ she cried, turning away from me.
‘Sorry. Your nanna and I are going out for a drive and a pub lunch and wondered if you’d like to join us.’
‘Sounds thrilling,’ she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘That would be a no.’
‘You don’t have to revise all day every day, you know.’
‘I’m not revising this morning. I’m sleeping. Or I was until an unwelcome visitor tried to burn my retinas.’
I winced at the use ofunwelcome visitor. It was the perfect description of how I’d felt about my role in my daughter’s life for the past eighteen months.
‘We’ll be leaving in fifteen minutes if you change your mind.’
‘I won’t.’
I closed the door, a familiar feeling of loss engulfing me. What had happened to my gorgeous, sunny girl? We used to have such a close relationship but, when she went up to the sixth form, it was like a heavy cloud had descended, chased away her sunshine and replaced it with anger, sarcasm and contempt. What I wouldn’t do to have that cloud blow over and things go back to how they used to be.
3
Mam and I decided to head north and, thirty minutes into the journey, I spotted a signpost on my left.
‘What are Rowanbridge and Mapleton like?’ I asked.
‘I’ve never been, which seems daft when they’re so close. I’ve heard they’re pretty. Shall we?’
She turned off and drove along a wide country lane flanked by fields, some of which contained sheep or cows. After ten minutes or so, we reached Rowanbridge and headed for the car park. A sign near the entrance displayed the words ‘Welcome to Triple Trees’ above a map of the area. Triple Trees consisted of three villages – Rowanbridge, Birchwood Rigg and Mapleton – and various other visitor attractions including a farm with heavy horses, a campsite and a brewery.
‘I’d love to visit the farm,’ I said, removing a leaflet from a plastic holder and flicking through it. ‘There’s a café there – might be nice for tea and cake.’
The familiar clip-clop of hooves drew our attention to the road where a woman and a teenaged girl were passing on horseback, waving their thanks to a motorist who’d slowed right down and given them a wide berth.
‘I love Triple Trees already,’ I said to Mam. ‘Horses trekking through the villageanda heavy horse farm. Perfect.’ Anywhere horses were found instantly captured my heart.
Rowanbridge was a small village of picture-perfect stone cottages with pristine front gardens arranged along the main street and a few side roads. In the centre was a shop combined with a café but a sign on the door said it was closed on Mondays and Tuesdays during the winter months. Outside was a large paved area which I could imagine was full of tables and chairs during the warmer weather.
Mam and I wandered to one end of the village where a snowdrop-flanked woodland trail ended with a fork. The left path dipped down to a pretty church and the right took us towards a large manor house.
‘YGT,’ I said, reading the large letters on a bright orange sign outside. ‘I wonder what that stands for.’
Mam shrugged. ‘Not a clue. Can’t be a hotel or it’d say that. Maybe it’s a company headquarters.’
‘Maybe.’
We retraced our steps and headed towards the other end of the village, passing an art gallery, which was also closed. A sign beside the gallery pointed to ‘Rowanbridge Creative Hub’ so we followed it down a winding lane lined with cherry blossom trees.
‘It’ll be stunning walking down here in the spring when the blossom’s out,’ Mam said.
