AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘She says he wasn’t always like this. Laura loves a natter.’
‘Sounds like it.’
Sensing we’re talking about him, he turns and raises his pint glass to us. Then, to me, he points to his eyes with his index and middle finger in an I’m-watching-you gesture.
‘My word, he’s gorgeous,’ Maisie swoons.
‘Pfftt,’ is all I can say. What are looks when inside you’re a total mess? The man needs a therapist.
‘There are rumours of him and the local GP.’
I turn in my seat. ‘How is it that Laura is comfortable giving you all this information?’
She shrugs and takes another draught of her beer. ‘Don’t you know? People are lonely. They talk. But there’s one thing they’re not giving away…’
‘And what’s that?’
She points her pint at him. ‘That man has a secret.’
*
I know time is running out and that I really should meet my grandmother on this trip rather than immediately before the funeral. And Rosie might mention it to someone. But I still can’t bring myself to knock on her door again. As much as I’m dying to meet her, doubts have begun to seep in my mind.
Why has she never tried to contact me before? I couldn’t bear it if she turned out to be as heartless as my own mother. What if she really is the harpy my mother always said? Come to think of it, she was a harpy in her own right, as well. Based on the philosophy that it takes one to know one, I’m not feeling all that confident anymore.
There’s my fantasy version of her – a pretty little plump, round-faced dear who bakes cakes all day. Of course, I have nothing to back that notion up with, except for my subsumed desire of home and family. Mrs Heatherton doesn’t sound like the kind of person who would spend her days baking cakes.
To keep me away from my grandparents, the feud must have been a horrid one. Perhaps then, just perhaps, I could go in, unarmed, and assure her that the past is in the past… I’m dying for a fresh start. Maybe she is, too. So perhaps a softer, less in-your-face approach would be better for the moment.
With a sigh of trepidation, I reach into my bag, pull out my agenda and my mobile phone to dial her landline number. She doesn’t appear to have a mobile one.
I listen to the rings, thinking that this could either lead to absolutely nothing, or to everything.
‘Heatherton residence…’
I almost drop my phone in surprise. ‘Hello, my name is Emily Weaver and I—’
‘Emily? Finally!’
I stop mid-sentence, thrown. She may be noble, but she’s as affable as they come. I feel better already.
‘It’s so nice to hear from you. Thank you for getting in touch.’
‘Oh! Well, yes, of course. I’m going to be in the area and I wanted to express my condolences.’
‘Thank you. We’re all pretty shaken up around here. Nano was much loved by all.’
Aww. I can hear the sadness in her voice despite the warm reaction. I only wish I’d been part of this life that I’ll now never know about. An entire life, and I haven’t got a single memory of the man who was my grandfather.
‘… morning?’
‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.’
‘I said would you like to pop in tomorrow morning?’
‘Oh, I’d love to. Thank you so much.’
‘Have you got the address?’
