Page 45 of The Golden Girls’ Road Trip

‘Well, she didn’t actually say terminal, but she did say ill and that you’d had some devastating news.’

‘Christ! The woman is a bloody nightmare. Her and Will are well suited. I’m not ill.’

‘What about the visit to the doctor?’

‘It was to talk about a possible injection in my hip. I have arthritis; I’m not bloody dying.’

‘Why would she say that then? What about the devastating news?’ I ask, as Alex pops some peanuts into her mouth and doesn’t answer. Finally she stops chewing.

‘She’s a busybody, a gossip. Any news I have is none of her business.’

‘Is it mine?’ I ask gently.

‘No,’ she says quickly. ‘No, it’s not.’

I swallow down the disappointment and try to focus on the good news instead.

‘I thought you were on borrowed time; that’s why I agreed to this trip.’

‘No you didn’t; you wanted to be cooped up in a van with me for a few days to see if there was anything still between us.’

It’s my turn to splutter out my wine, and I choke on a mouthful before wiping my lips with the back of my hand. I should feel embarrassed, but I don’t, and of course she’s right. Didn’t I know this as soon as she said she was coming with me? She always did have a great way of clearing away the bullshit.

‘Yes, that is true, but also because I felt I owed you for that disappearing act all those years ago.’

Alex lets out a long ragged breath and for a moment I think she’s crying, but she isn’t.

‘You left, Con; you bloody left me. How do you think I felt after the time we spent together and the time we were planning to spend together? A note saying you had to go home for a bit and could I wait for you? You have a fling and disappear? That was it. That was what I was worth, what we were worth?’

I open my mouth to tell her that her timeline is off and to say sorry again, but she continues.

‘I needed you! You were the one person who saw who I was and embraced it. You encouraged me; you were the ambassador for my art. I would never have done that without your encouragement. My family didn’t get it, thought I had ideas well above my station, but you gave me the confidence to push forward with it. I did think we’d grow old with our knitting or the like, but after a long life together, not a fifty-two-year absence and then a ta da, I’m back. You broke my heart. Where do we go from there? How can we get from that to where we are now and for it to be okay?’

She runs out of steam and sinks back in her seat.

‘I don’t know,’ I say pathetically. ‘So, at least you’re not harbouring some fifty-two-year resentment,’ I try, and am rewarded with the merest of smiles.

‘Aye, well, you know me.’

‘I should have been honest with you back then, not run off home like a child.’

‘A child, carrying a child.’

‘If I had told you at the time that I was pregnant, what would you have done?’ I ask the question I’ve waited a long time to ask. Alex sighs and turns to look at me.

‘I honestly don’t know. I might have asked you to give it up; I might have suggested we strap it in the back seat and take it with us.’

‘It is Simon,’ I say.

‘Yes, well, you know I’ve never been maternal.’

‘I did travel with him when he was a small child, and also when he was a bigger child. I was looking for you, I think.’

‘I didn’t go anywhere for a while; I was always at home.’

‘You weren’t when I came back. Your dad told me you’d gone away. I thought you’d taken our map and done the journey alone.’

‘I was in Dundee, Connie, at uni.’