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“That’s the thing. Dad’s rarely home these days. He’s in London most of the time. But Will’s always here. I think he’s sleeping with our mother.”
“You said that last year.” Back to the drama that was my family.
“You’ll see it for yourself. They’re not even hiding it anymore. Are you staying at Merivale?”
“Maybe for a few nights, but I plan to move into the village,” I said.
“Into your converted church?”
“Yep. It’s ready to go. The architect sent me the photos. I love it.” A feeling of excitement hit me thinking of the eighteenth-century Georgian church I’d had converted into my new home.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“For sure. Bye, then.”
I closed the call and feeling tired, I headed out onto the crowded streets. It was nice being back home, but the city wasn’t my favourite place. I needed to exorcise some of the mental crap that had followed me back from Afghanistan. And the best place to find myself again was the seaside village where I grew up.
