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‘It’s about the devaluation of Mum’s house.’
Unsurprisingly, Paula was all ears then.
‘We haven’t got a leg to stand on,’ Shay went on.
‘Rubbish,’ replied Paula. ‘Have you been in touch with a solicitor?’
Have you,Shay wanted to throw back at her. She would complain and grizzle but she wouldn’t put herself out to help.
‘Yes I have. And an expert on planning laws. I’ve exhausted every avenue. What they’re doing is completely allowed so no court is going to find in our favour. It would cost a fortune to fight and it would all be for nothing.’
‘I see,’ said Paula, after she’d digested that.
‘I daren’t tell Mum, she’s going to be heartbroken.’
‘I know. You forget I was there at the weekend having to endure her talking about it on a continuous loop,’ said Paula to that, making herself sound like a sadly lacking Mother Teresa. ‘Can’t you go round and speak to the people next door and try and reason with them?’
‘I did. And it didn’t go well. He was vile.’
Paula sighed. ‘I suppose it works in her favour that she’s getting more deaf by the day and won’t hear much of their noise through the wall.’
Shay’s jaw hit her shoe. ‘Did you really just say that?’
‘Look, Dad should never have gone for a link-detached in the first place,’ said Paula, a snarl in her voice. ‘I never liked that house anyway. They bought it in haste and so eventually comes the repentance.’
‘Mum’s always been happy in that house. She loves it.’
The volume in Paula’s voice rose as much as it could without attracting attention in the salon. ‘They wouldn’t have had this problem with their old house.’
‘They’d have had other problems. Do you think Mum could have managed all the stairs as she is now? It wasdraughty and freezing in winter and the garden was way too big.’
Paula ignored that because it didn’t fit her narrative.
‘They should never have moved from Millspring. It was a lovely village.’
‘Well, they did.’
‘Yes, because of you,’ hissed Paula. ‘Because you couldn’t keep your fucking legs shut and a boy died, didn’t—’
Shay pressed the disconnect button and crashed her mobile down onto the table with such force it was a wonder it didn’t smash the screen and land her with a two-hundred-quid repair bill.
Paula really was a genius at firing bullets, especially ones packed with bile. She’d pierced Shay hard in the tenderest part with that one, releasing a flare of guilt from a motherlode she had been carrying with her for twenty-nine years. The grass had long grown over what had happened, reduced it to a sad episode in history, but never inside herself where it churned at every point of settling. The lies that had been told about her had stained her indelibly, caused scarring bone-deep; they had forced her to live another life, a smaller existence, one where she feared moving out of the safe shadows and worried too much about the well-being of loved ones. It was a life built on a pretence of foundations and as much as she’d tried to move on in the way that counsellors had guided her, to accept a lot she could not change, she had not found her peace.
She’d had such a wonderful childhood, solid and secure. She’d had a school she enjoyed going to, teachers she liked. And she’d had Denny Smith as a best friend, and she’d had Jonah Wells. Her mum had said it was young love and that never lasted anyway. But here she was twenty-nine yearslater still unable to think of either Denny or Jonah without pain and knowing that, despite time, despite distance, despite every effort she’d ever made to forget the past, she had never got over losing either of them.
Chapter 12
Bruce was working the next day as well and though it would have been nice to have relaxed together, gone out with him for Sunday lunch in a country pub, Shay was quite glad he was out of the way with his present mood of gloom. The house was growing more like a powder keg with every day that passed. There had to be more to it than he was saying. She’d thought about it at length and concluded that she didn’t really buy his job worries. He had a solid reputation, he was turning work down because his diary was full. They didn’t have money problems either. They had healthy savings, they’d both put money into private pension pots, enough to retire early, and they drew revenue from a couple of houses which they’d bought when the prices were low and rented out to long-term tenants. She’d followed in the footsteps of her parents there who had banked quite a sum of money over the years by successfully investing in rental properties. No, there was something else he wasn’t telling her and she would get to the bottom of it. This couldn’t go on with him shutting her out, sulking, then the next minute getting all gooey and gushing howmuch he loved her and how beautiful she was. It was like living in a Fun House at Blackpool Pleasure Beach with constantly shifting floors, although without the ‘Fun’ and the ‘Pleasure’ parts.
Shay was just reading the Sunday newspaper, bored witless, when her phone rang and she saw Courtney’s number flash up on the screen. She felt a mixed shot of emotion at hearing her daughter’s voice, consisting mainly of joy and trepidation. Courtney courted disaster the way Casanova had courted nubile young women.
‘Wotcher, Mum.’ Courtney’s voice was brimming with her customary cheerfulness.
‘Hello love, how’s it going?’
‘Fine, I’m great. How are you? How’s Dad and Gran?’
Better to be slightly economical with the truth where the latter was concerned. ‘Your gran’s neighbours are having some building work done which is annoying her a bit, but with any luck it’ll be finished soon.’
