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“It’s no one’s fault.” She glanced up at him. “It was a joint decision. You’ve worked hard to build your client base, and I’m grateful for the security it has given us.”
“But—” He eased away from her. “This life we’re living is not looking the way either of us wanted it to twenty years ago.”
“I doubt anyone’s does. And what you want at twenty isn’t the same as what you want at forty.”
“I’m not sure. I could live here without too much of a struggle.” He stared out across the garden. “Maybe when the twins leave for college.”
Her heart bumped against her ribs because his mind was going in the same direction as hers. “Do you mean that?” She felt a spark of excitement and tried to temper it. “It isn’t practical though, is it? There’s my teaching. And your practice. I can’t see how we could make it work.”
“Maybe we need to try harder. Let’s think about it.” He kissed her. “In the meantime, let’s keep sharing those dreams so at least we both know what we’re aiming for.”
She kept her arms round him and for a moment it felt as if they were alone in the world, as it had all those years before.
She didn’t want fantasy, she realized. She wanted her reality, but an improved version.
“I’m glad you drove here.”
“Are you? When you opened the door last night, I thought I might have made a mistake.” His arms tightened. “Don’t give up on us, Liza. I won’t let you give up on us. We can do so much better.”
She’d missed him. Not the limited part of Sean she’d had access to recently, but the whole Sean. The man she’d fallen in love with.
“I’ll never give up on us.” She rested her head on his chest. “We ought to call the girls. Also, there’s something I need to do before I speak to my mother later.”
“That sounds mysterious.”
“It is, a little.” She took his hand and they walked back through the garden. “I never asked my mother much about her life before she met my father. She has these letters she wants me to read—actually I probably ought to check with her before I tell you everything.”
“I understand. I’m pleased you feel closer to her. I know how much you wanted that. You focus on your mother and I’ll call the girls and put them out of their misery. I was thinking—shall we stay here for a few more days? Call it our anniversary gift to each other.”
She’d been assuming they’d head back to London.
“What would we do?”
“I have a few ideas.” He flashed her a wicked smile. “Go to bed early, get up late, walk on the beach, eat dinner together outside. You can paint and I can watch you. We can read or do nothing. Talk. What do you say?”
She didn’t need to think about it. “I say yes.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “I should probably speak to the girls too.”
“Time for that later. Go and get those letters and call your mother.”
Feeling stronger and steadier than she had in a long time, Liza took the letters through to her mother’s bedroom and untied the ribbon holding them together. She separated the first one and the second one, and put the others carefully on the table next to her mother’s bed.
One at a time.
It was tempting to open them in advance, so that she could find a way to prepare her mother for what was inside, but she knew her mother didn’t want that.
Popeye walked into the bedroom, eyed her with slightly less disdain than usual and then sprang onto her lap.
Liza was so shocked she didn’t move. The cat nudged her hand and she tentatively stroked him. It was the first time Popeye had ever sought attention or affection from her.
“What’s going on with you?” She stroked his fur and heard him purr. Maybe the cat was finally warming up to her. A bit like her mother.
The thought made her laugh.
Popeye was still on her lap when Kathleen called, at exactly the time they’d arranged.
“Do you have the letters?”
“Yes. I’ve made sure they’re in date order and I have the first two right here.” Liza slid off her shoes and lay on the bed, careful not to disturb the cat. “You haven’t changed your mind? I’m worried if it might be difficult or upsetting.” It couldn’t be easy handling the fact that the man you’d loved and planned to marry had conducted an affair with your best friend. No wonder her mother had walked away. No wonder her mother hadn’t been in touch with Ruth, or opened those letters.
