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A long sigh escaped from Shay’s chest. He was to her what she was to him and that’s all that mattered. Nothing had changed; that was all she wanted to happen, to carry on being Harry Corrigan’s daughter.
‘Thank you for telling me that, Barbara.’
‘I’m glad you know the truth. It’s a much better life when you don’t have to pretend.’
‘Are you all right, yourself? I know how hard this must be on you.’
Barbara nodded. ‘As well as can be. I haven’t been able to get to see Harry as much as I’d have liked to recently. My mum’s not well; she’s ninety-six now and fading a bit, and my daughter’s having some problems. And I’ve not been top bill of health myself.’
Shay noted how she put herself last on the list.
‘I bet you feel like you’re in the middle of a sandwich,’ she said.
‘Aye, one pressed so flat there’s no flavour left. Do you know what I mean, Shay?’
Shay gave a slow nod. ‘Yes, I know,’ she replied.
Chapter 41
When she opened the door and walked in, the house looked exactly as before but somehow it felt a different fit. Or maybe it was her that had changed shape, left the round hole as a round peg and changed to a square one over the past two and a half weeks.
Shay texted both her children and told them she was home. Courtney rang her immediately and asked if she could come over after work – she’d bring fish and chips. She had some things she wanted to tell her – nice things, she stressed immediately. No need to worry one bit.
Shay told her that would be lovely and she’d be delighted to see her. But she was prepared to tell her daughter it was time to woman-up, if needed. Her days of being permanently erected scaffolding for others were done.
Courtney arrived at six with fish, chips, peas, curry sauce, breadcakes and two battered sausages. She put them down on the table and then threw her arms around her mother, kissing her cheek madly, as she used to do when she was alittle girl. Her big daughter felt as good in her arms as her little one had.
‘Are we expecting some extra company?’ asked Shay, unfolding all the paper parcels.
‘I had a bonus at work,’ Courtney explained. ‘I thought I’d spend some of it on you. Flowers are overrated, I reckon. They can’t hit the spot a battered sausage can.’
Shay laughed. Yes, that was totally within her daughter’s thought processes.
‘Where did you go, Mum?’
I went back in time, love. ‘I went back to where I was brought up.’
‘You see old friends?’
‘Yes, I did.’ And old enemies who are new friends and old enemies who will stay enemies, she didn’t add.
‘You’ll have to take me one day and show me the sights.’
‘I will,’ Shay promised.
‘Must have been nice living in a village. You never talked about it.’
No, she never had. She’d dodged all the questions, side-stepped giving answers, cherry-picked the more benign details. Now, she could – and would – talk about it more because she was finally free of that sodden, dark cloud which had mired the sunshine in her sky.
‘One of my friends owns a cheese factory now,’ Shay told her.
‘That sounds sexy,’ replied Courtney, with a salacious smirk.
‘He was telling me how he needs to get on top of social media and advertising. Made me think of you as I was driving back. You’re so good at that stuff, I wondered why you haven’t ever thought of getting paid for your services.’
‘That makes me sound like a prossy.’
‘Oh Courtney, be sensible for once.’
