Fred hadn’t realized just how detrimental herself-imposed exile from her family had been to her emotional well-being. Though Tim had undoubtedly widened the gap between them and undermined her confidence to bridge it, she couldn’t blame him alone. In truth, she had begun to disengage herself, years earlier, via a skewed lens of childish peeves that when left unchecked had hardened into resentment. The idea of coming back to Pine Bluff had felt like closing the book on a life she’d worked so hard to make real. But now she wondered if perhaps what she’d left behind in London was merely a chapter within a much larger book. And far from being at the end of it, she had plenty more to write.
11
Bella
Friday, November 29
Bella had filled the largeslow cooker with root vegetables, onions, herbs and a bottle of Guinness in the morning before she had left for the market, and now the mixture was rich and dark and bubbling thickly, filling the house with the comforting aroma of boozy stew. As soon as she’d got home, she had made up some herby dumplings and laid them on top of the stew, pushing them down gently so that they were half submerged in the gravy, before clamping the lid back on.
She had invited Liam, Martha and Diggory to join them for Friday night dinner. Diggory had promised to look at the radiator in the bathroom; it was so cold in there now that both she and Fred had taken to only using it for the bare necessities, and had begun washing their hair in the kitchen sink.
She missed Claire; she’d been a good friend, and Bella had taken a great deal of comfort from knowing that Liamwas happy and loved. He deserved to be loved. She sighed. Loving him had been her pleasure and her penance for thirty-five years. From the moment she had first set eyes on him, there had never been any other choice for her—even when he loved someone else. She had tamped down her love, trained her heart not to skip when she saw him, and coaxed her mind into locking thoughts of him away in a safe place so that she couldn’t dwell on her feelings. But this year, her heart and mind refused to be silenced. Could he love again after Claire? And if he could, would it make more sense for him to meet someone completely new, rather than reaching back through history to revisit a doomed love affair?Enough, she told herself. Last week she had manifested her heart’s desire to the full moon, and that would have to do.What will be will be.
She turned her attention back to her meal prep. Aggie had invited Ryan to join them tonight when he’d dropped off another two bags of coffee earlier; since Fred had been back, Ryan had delivered more coffee to the house than they could drink in a year. He’d mentioned that he had a business proposal to run by her and she wondered what it could be as she heaped a double handful of chopped chives and half a block of butter into the enormous saucepan of potatoes she was mashing. She tasted it, then added sea salt, several good grinds of black pepper, and poured in some of the cream from the saucepan simmering on the stove.
“Mum!” The screeching came from above before thunderous footsteps descended the stairs. “Oh my god! Mum!”
“I’m in the kitchen!” she called back as she carried on mashing the potatoes.
Fred burst in, waving her phone with an expression of pure horror.
“What on earth is the matter?” Bella asked, picking up a fork and whipping the mash as she added the last of the cream.
“The aunts invited Warren to dinner tonight,” Fred answered breathlessly.
Bella bit back a snigger. They loved to meddle. “Lucky I made plenty of food then,” she said, trying to play it down in the hope that Fred might be soothed.
“This is not okay, Mum. This is fucked up!”
“That seems a bit strong. I mean, I can understand that you might feel a little awkward. But if Warren doesn’t mind, then neither should you.”
“One date.” Fred held up a finger to emphasize her point. “One. That is not enough to warrant a ‘meet the family’ meal with any family, but especially not with this family. This is a nightmare. I am stuck in a nightmare.”
“Do you think you might be catastrophizing slightly?”
“AARRGGHHHH!” Fred yelled.
“I see. Well, maybe they thought since they’d already invited Ryan—”
“What? Ryan’s coming too? Kill me. Just kill me now. Go on, do it!”
“With the potato masher?”
Fred slumped down onto one of the dining chairs and began to bang her head on the table.
“Oh, it’ll be fine, stop being so dramatic. There’ll be plenty of us here to keep the conversation flowing.”
“What if the aunts tell Warren embarrassing stories about me? Remember when I brought Kai home from uni and they told him I wet my pants when I met Cinderella at Disneyland?”
“You were only five, and it was a very exciting time for you. Kai thought it was cute.”
“Warren and I are not at cute story stage, we’re not at any stage, we’ve barely left the starting line.”
“All right,” Bella said, clamping a lid on the mashed potato pan. “I will monitor the aunts, and if it looks like we’re heading into naked cycling or sleepwalking story territory, I will reroute them.”
Fred looked up. “Do you promise?”
“I do solemnly swear.”
