Page 12 of Somewhere Only We Know

Kat looked at me for a few moments. ‘Oh Maggie, I’m so sorry.’

I’d expected her to at least giggle at the bit where Kevin Armstrong’s car keys landed in the canal. But her hand reached for mine.

‘Me too.’ I smiled, grateful for her sympathy. ‘I hope this encourages him to get help with his drinking. He didn’t endear himself to Anna or me, but I don’t wish him ill.’

Kat huffed. ‘If I’d been there, he would have been swimming home. How dare he think it’s okay to drive after boozing?’

We locked eyes. Losing Brontë had hit her hard too. The two of them had adored each other and Brontë had babysat for Kat’s little boy Sam ever since he was born. He was nine now, and I felt a pang of guilt for not seeing my nephew enough recently. I loved Kat and her family dearly and enjoyed being in their company, but returning to a silent house, after spending time in their boisterous family home, brought me down to earth with a bump. Sometimes it was easier to be alone all day than to be reminded of what I was missing.

‘Exactly,’ I said indignantly. ‘So now, I’ve got three months to kill before I can get back to work and reassert myself as a professional who’d be an asset to the board.’

I shuddered, remembering Anna’s use of the words ‘loose cannon’.

‘So, what are you going to do?’ Kat set her glass down and tucked her feet underneath her.

I appreciated her not saying something motivational like see this as an opportunity for growth. Tonight, I didn’t want to be motivated, I wanted someone to take my side and rant at the unfairness of everything.

‘This place could do with a makeover, I guess. It’s been years since we …’

My voice petered out. I looked around my living room with its open fireplace, honeyed oak beams and the squishy velvet sofa Brontë and I had picked up for free from Facebook Marketplace. We had decorated this room together. She’d been obsessed with the colour teal and insisted on a feature wall around the fireplace. ‘Maybe not. I don’t know, Kat,’ I said wearily. ‘What do other people do with time off?’

‘Don’t ask me,’ she scoffed. ‘I haven’t worked since having Sam and I still never seem to have a minute to myself.’

Kat’s phone made a trumpet sound. ‘Sorry, that’s a notification from the lost pets Facebook page.’ She looked at the screen. ‘Good news! Mintie the Westie has been reunited with her owner.’

Kat’s life was full to bursting. Hobbies, commitments, volunteering, running their cabin as a holiday let in the Lake District, on top of looking after Andy and Sam. Perhaps this was my wake-up call to start a hobby. Perhaps I should rejoin the gym, or grovel to my old book club and see if they’d take me back.

‘You could rescue a dog. Company for you, and think how happy you could make an old dog,’ she suggested.

I held up a hand like a stop sign. ‘No way. I’d be heartbroken when it died. I couldn’t handle losing anyone else.’

‘A puppy then?’

I shook my head. ‘Too much responsibility. I don’t want to be tied down. What if I want to go away?’

She gave me a quizzical look. ‘You don’t like travelling.’

‘I haven’t done much recently,’ I admitted. ‘But I was going to ask to stay at your cabin in the Lakes.’

‘Oh no! We’ve let it for six months to someone.’ She pulled an apologetic face. ‘You don’t want to go there on your own at this time of year anyway: too cold, too remote. You need people around you. No, come on, top me up and let’s brainstorm.’

‘Do we have to?’ I sloshed wine into her glass.

I didn’t agree with her about needing people. People asked questions like: What do you do? Are you married? Do you have kids? People were hard work.

‘It’ll be fun,’ she replied. ‘And I won’t hold you to anything. So, if you could do absolutely anything, money no object, what would it be?’

‘Easy.’ I helped myself to a handful of crisps. ‘Time-travel. I’d go back to the day Brontë came to tell me about her gap year. I’d say that it was a brilliant idea and that I wanted to hear all about it. And she’d leave the house knowing that she had my full support and approval.’

My sister gave me a chastising look. ‘You need to stop beating yourself up about that.’

I shook my head. ‘I should have done better. I let her down.’

‘Not true. You held her up all her life. She knew you always had her best interests at heart. You made her feel loved and heard and seen. She knew how precious she was to you.’

Tears pricked at my eyes. Hello again, grief. I could go for days without it playing out in public, and then suddenly here it was, raking its talons down my spine.

Kat scooched up the sofa and put her arm around me. I rested my head on her shoulder.