Page 68 of Somewhere Only We Know

‘That’s the one.’

She was a kind lady who’d often stepped in over the years with small gifts of a cake, or a casserole she claimed had been going spare. Her husband had died years ago, and she said doing things for others made her feel needed. Taking in Mum and Kat was exactly the sort of thing she’d do.

‘Poor Kat, have you seen her?’

‘No, I haven’t seen her. I’m busy with my allotment this month. And the grass – I turn my back and it’s grown two feet.’

The grass was his priority? Unbelievable. ‘But you’re going to help out?’

‘Not this time, Magnolia.’ His tone was curt. ‘I’ve helped your mother enough over the years.’

‘Jesus Christ, Dad!’ I blew up at him. ‘You just said you saw it coming, so why didn’t you step in? We are your children. I can look after myself, but Kat is still at school.’

She’d finished her A-levels but officially she was at school until 31 August.

‘Is she? Blimey,’ he muttered. ‘I’ve got Phyllis’s number if you want it. I’m sure Kat would like to hear from you.’

‘How helpful of you,’ I seethed.

The thought of Kat trying to pack her things, leaving her home, nowhere to go, with only Mum to look after her … I started to sob, huge wrenching sobs. My poor sister. Meanwhile, here I was in paradise, blissfully in love, oblivious to her ordeal. The guilt came crashing down, burying the freedom, the happiness, the laughter of the last few weeks. And alongside it, anger. I was angry with Mum for not staying on top of the bills, for not putting her youngest daughter’s security at the top of her list; and with Dad for not caring enough to be there – if not for his ex-wife, then for his kids.

I ended the call with Dad and phoned Phyllis immediately. Mum wasn’t there but Kat came on the line.

‘Oh Mags,’ she wailed. ‘I was so scared. The bailiffs only gave us a few hours to leave. Mum tried to talk them out of it for ages, but they weren’t interested. I had to pack all your stuff too.’

‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, sis. Sounds like you need a hug.’

‘It’s okay. At least it has happened at the end of your trip. When are you coming home?’

My throat burned with disappointment as I mentally waved goodbye to my dreams of Thailand with Jackson and gave her the answer she needed to hear. ‘Tomorrow, Kat, I’ll get a flight home tomorrow.’

Mum’s Gap Year

My sweet girl, this trip has taught me so much; thank you for showing me the way. It’s proved to me that I can cope without checking my emails every five minutes, that I can make snap decisions and be excited about what might come next. I can keep busy, see new places, have new experiences. Life shouldn’t be about marking time, waiting for it to pass so that I can get into bed and close my eyes and my mind to the world. And I see now that that’s what I’ve been doing since you died.

But even a full diary can’t make up for the fact that there’s so much emptiness in my heart. I shared my life with you, sweetheart. I rejoiced at every achievement, pushed you to do the hard stuff as you moved through the phases of your life, so mine changed along with you.

What next for me? One day I’m going to read the last page of your gap-year book and from then on, I’ll be travelling alone without you. That heart of mine needs filling – I need someone to love, and I want someone to love me back.

I know this will make you happy, and I think it might make me happy too.

Love always

Mum xxx

P.S. Harry is such an amazing young man.

P.P.S. I’ve got myself a hashtag – #MumsGapYear!

Chapter 23

Australia

The taxi dropped me and my suitcase off at the entrance to the Ruby Creek winery. I brushed the creases out of my linen dungarees and pushed my sunglasses up onto my head. The Hunter Valley was several degrees warmer than the mountains I’d left behind this morning, and there was little breeze.

In front of me was a low building made of attractive yellow stone, an open door at each end, both with signs above them: Ruby’s Bar on one and Cellar Door on the other. In front of the building, there were picnic tables and parasols set up on the grass and a long table and chairs to seat upwards of twenty people under the shade of a wooden porch. Oak barrels served as taller tables with high stools set around them. The impression was of a rustic restaurant, homely and welcoming. I couldn’t see anyone but there was laughter coming from inside.

I gave myself a moment to breathe. Two weeks on an Australian vineyard: how spontaneous and exciting. I took a quick selfie with the Ruby Creek sign in the background and sent it to Kat and Harry to let them know I’d arrived. I wandered over to one of the benches and sat down, putting my sunglasses back on to shield me from the glare.