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‘Get in and we’ll drive you round,’ said Lance, and he opened the back door.
‘Well, thanks.’ Smiling, I slid into the seat. ‘It’s really nice of you.’
‘Rubbish,’ said Janey. ‘What are friends for?’
They dropped me off at the door and I stood and watched them leave. It felt good to know I had friends... people who cared about me. It gave me a lovely warm feeling inside.
‘See you next week at the art class,’ called Janey as they drove away.
‘You will,’ I called back as I waved them off.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A few days later, I was waiting outside the Little Duck Pond Café when Blossom drew up in her old red Fiesta.
My younger sister worked as a gardener, and for the past five months, she’d been part of a team restoring the gardens of an old stately home in Devon. I’d seen her briefly at Christmas when she came home for the holidays, although I’d been working shifts at Roastery most days, and she’d returned to Devon the day after Boxing Day. So we hadn’t had much opportunity for a proper chat.
But she was back in Guildford now, and today would be our first proper face-to-face catch-up in forever!
She waved madly and braked right at the door. Leaping out, the engine still running, she rushed around the car and pulled me into a tight squeeze, and I hugged her back for all I was worth, tears of relief soaking into the furry lining of her parka.
‘Let me look at you,’ she gasped at last, pulling away and flicking back her flaming red locks. ‘Ooh, lovely hair! It really suits you.’
I grinned. ‘It’s a wig. My hair started falling out with all the stress. But hey, it’s never looked so good, so I guess that’s the silver lining!’
Her face fell. ‘Oh, Rori, love, I wish you’d told me sooner what was going on with Nash. I feel so terrible that I wasn’t there for you and you had to cope all on your own.’
I shrugged, not really knowing how to answer. I’d kept Nash’s problem with anger to myself, not telling anyone how much it was slowly destroying our relationship. I knew most people’s reaction to hearing about it would be a puzzled, ‘Why on earth do you stay with him?’
They wouldn’t understand that it was more complicated than that. I loved the Nash who, most of the time, was caring and kind and made me laugh. I told myself that he had a problem, and it would be heartless of me to leave him because of something he had no control over.
Eventually, after a lot of gentle persuasion on my part, he’d agreed to get help, and he’d begun a course of anger management counselling. I remembered being so happy as I waved him off for his first session. I was convinced this would be the making of him and at long last, we’d have the sort of calm, happy relationship I longed for. So I was devastated when, after just two sessions, Nash declared that the counsellor had said he was cured and that he wouldn’t be going back for any more sessions.
I felt sick when he told me this. He was clearly in denial about his anger, although I clung to the hope that some good had come of the sessions he’d had. But just a few short weeks later, he exploded at me – worse than ever before – over something completely illogical, and that’s when I knew it was no use and I had to get out.
Blossom’s blue eyes were full of questions and sympathy, but I couldn’t face raking over the past, trying to explain my actions to her.
The truth was, when I left Nash, my head was a mess and it took me a long time to process what had happened. I wasn’t ready to talk about it to anyone – not even Blossom. It was only last week that I’d finally confessed to her in a long phone call the whole sorry tale.
But I didn’t want to talk about Nash right now. This was a happy occasion, having my sister back. So I changed the subject. ‘How’s Ross, anyway?’
At Christmas, Blossom had been all excited about Ross, who she was working with down in Devon. They’d been out on a few dates and it had looked promising.
She snorted. ‘Ross? Oh, he’s history. Turned out he was two-timing me all along with another girl in the team called Pauline. She’s a decade older than him and now she’s pregnant with his kid. So...’ She shrugged and grinned. ‘Just the latest disaster in the hopeless love life of Blossom Sunshine, that’s all.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Hey, it’s fine. I dodged a bullet. Apart from anything else, he picked his toenails in front of the TV.’
I grimaced. ‘Ugh! Never mind Pauline and the baby. If he does that, hehasto be toast.’
‘Exactly.’ She chuckled. ‘Anyway, let’s not talk about that scumbag. I’m just so happy to see you, Sis. Let me buy you a latte and an iced bun in the café and then you can show me this gorgeous flat you’re renting.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘We might just have time before Ada gets here.’
‘I thought you’d be driving over together.’ Blossom still lived with Ada in the old family home near Guildford.
‘Oh, she stayed at Geoffrey’s house last night so she’s coming straight from there.’
‘How is Geoffrey?’ I pictured Ada’s kind, mild-mannered partner, who she’d been seeing since the summer. I’d met him briefly at Christmas and I’d liked him a lot. Ten years older than her, with grizzled grey hair and glasses, Geoffrey was an accountant, which seemed altogether too boring an occupation for our mother. And yet she seemed happy enough.
