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“Little Bobby Carter, hey. He can’t be that much older than you. I remember him as a little boy. His mother was a gentle soul, but I’ll never forget the anger on her face the time he pulled down his shorts in the old methodist chapel and peed all over the floor.” Joy began to laugh, but it was ill timed as a lungful of cigarette smoke went down the wrong way and Kate feared for a moment Joy might choke to death.
Joy ran through a series of embarrassing anecdotes that Kate banked in her brain for a later date, then moved on to talking about Moira. It was strange, hearing her Nan spoken about as a young woman, and Kate hung on Joy’s every word.
“What happened with your dad broke her heart. She was never the same after. On the outside she was as jolly as ever, but her eyes lost their sparkle.”
“Yes, Mum would never talk to me about him, but I was given the basics.”
“Ha, I bet she told you it was suicide?”
“Yeah…”
“Moira didn’t believe a word of it. He’d gone out drinking with a bunch of low-lifes on one of the north coast beaches. Up on the cliffs they were, getting hammered and taking God knows what. They were all so out of it, none of them noticed him go over the edge. Now, if he’d done it on purpose, don’t you think he would have made more of a song and dance about it?”
Kate wasn’t sure that was how these things worked, but let Joy continue.
“Even if he had stepped off on purpose, his brain was so addled he wouldn’t have known what he was doing. Moira could never believe he’d leave her on purpose, or you. He adored you, and your mother.”
Not enough to stay off the drugs, thought Kate, once again keeping her thoughts to herself.
“Of course, Moira blamed your mum, you know, for not straightening him out. I told her, it’s not a woman’s place to change a man, but Moira thought the sun shone out of that boy’s arse, so she was having none of it.”
“Mum blamed Nan for bringing him back to Cornwall. She thought if he’d stayed with us in London, things would have turned out differently.”
“Nah, sometimes there’s no going back. Even if he’d got off the drugs, who’s to say what damage he’d already done to himself. Moira thought she was doing the right thing, bringing him back here. She tried to lock him up, you know?”
“No, I didn’t know.”
“Well, fat lot of use that did. He just climbed out the window and got himself mixed up with a bad crowd. Bad clings to bad, whatever town you’re in. Bodmin, London, he could’ve gone to Timbuktu and it wouldn’t have made the slightest difference.” Joy stubbed out her cigarette and stood up. “Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time and dragged you the wrong way down memory lane. I think I’d better get going before my tongue loosens again. Thanks for the tea, I’ll see myself out.”
“Joy? Would you like to come round again? I’d like to know more about Nan, and you knew her better than most.”
Joy let out a chuckle. “Not better than most, dear. I knew her better than anyone, better than she knew herself. Of course I’ll come round again, but next time, make sure you’ve got something stronger than tea for me, eh?”
“Of course,” said Kate, “though I can’t promise cocktails.”
Joy waved a hand and disappeared through the door.
*
The weather took a turn for the worse. Kate spent the afternoon locked in thoughts of her parents. She’d only ever got her mum’s side of the story, and it was good to get a fresh perspective, however brutal it might feel at the time. Staring out of the window, Kate saw images from her childhood rather than the rain and wind buffeting plants outside. It took her a moment to realise the noise she could hear was not the wind, but a banging on the door. She leaped up and ran to open it.
Kate could only make out the round shape of a woman, drowning in a large, unflattering rain mac. This was no time for polite introductions as Kate ushered the figure inside out of the rain.
“Gloria, pleased to meet you,” the woman said, peeling off the rain mac and holding out a wet hand. She balanced a full carrier bag beneath her arm and shook off the coat’s water onto the floor.
“I’m Kate. Pleased to meet you. Would you like me to take your luggage?”
Gloria moved the carrier bag to her chest and held it tight to her body. “Not this. But yes, you could take the suitcase, if you don’t mind?”
“Not at all. Your room is this way.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
GLORIA WOKE EARLY. She crept across the bare boards of the floor and opened the thick corduroy curtains. Despite winter clawing its way into autumn, the sound of birdsong still floated through the window. The sky looked ominous, thick wisps of black streaked across grey. Gloria sighed. It wasn’t an appetising day to be plunging into the estuary, but that was what she was here for and she couldn’t back out now.
Tiptoeing across to her suitcase, Gloria pulled out the fluffy slippers she took everywhere with her and crept through to the sitting room. She made herself a fresh coffee in the cafetiere, and returned to the bedroom to await the arrival of dawn.
It was an angry light when it appeared. There were no bright flashes of colour, no oranges, fuchsias or pastel pinks, just an ominous illuminating of the thick clouds. Like someone had turned a spotlight on beneath them. As the first patters of rain hit the windowpane, Gloria pulled the duvet around her and swallowed the last of her coffee. She propped herself up against the iron headboard and closed her eyes.
