‘Carruthers,’ I say miserably. ‘Good, let them all talk, as long as we’re left alone. You didn’t see it, did you?’
She knows exactly what I mean.
‘I think everyone’s seen it,’ she says, nodding. I don’t want to think about what she means by ‘everyone’.
‘Am I the village laughing stock again?’
‘Don’t be silly,’ she says unconvincingly.
‘Lucy?’ says Izz. ‘Can I borrow your phone?’
‘Sure.’
‘Make it go on the village hall video thing. The one where the person said they were Alexi’s grandchild?’
‘You sure?’ Lucy asks, but Izz only gestures for her to hurry.
We draw up two chairs at the very edge of the hall next to the kitchen door and we look at the tarpaulin-covered hole in the ceiling and the spot where our gingerbread display was. Now, presumably, it’s all in a council skip on its way to landfill.
Lucy plonks herself down beside me and we let Izz wander away to scroll through the comments. She leaves her food untouched.
‘Want a bite, Luce?’ I say, holding out my sandwich, but she declines, so I get to work on it hungrily. ‘I haven’t had anything since yesterday lunchtime.’
She only looks at me. ‘I figured you were busy.’
‘Don’t give me that face,’ I say, not wanting to laugh when it actually hurts so much. ‘It’s not even a thing now,’ I tell her. ‘Let’s just forget the last few days with him, OK?’
Lucy takes this in, surveying my face. ‘What do you want to do now? You can’t hide in here. I mean, this place could literally fall down on top of you.’
‘What do I want to do now?’ I repeat.
It’s now or never.
In fact, I can’t think of a better time to tell her I’m decided. I’m going to cut and run. Do a Don.
‘Lucy,’ I say, wrapping up the roll and setting it aside. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’
‘OK, me too,’ she says.
‘Well, me first, because it’s big, and I haven’t said anything because I wasn’t sure, but with everything that’s been going on…’
Lucy’s drawn her hands over her mouth and her eyes are big, round, worried circles. ‘Are you sick?’ she says, and her voice wobbles.
‘No, God no.’ I pull her hands down and hold them. ‘I’m leaving Wheaton.’
The slightest shake of her head shows she’s processing.
‘I’m going to put Mum and Dad’s cottage up for sale. It’s mine now, they signed it over to me when they went to Spain, so it’s notterribleto sell up, you know? And I’m going to move.’
‘OK,’ she says. ‘Where?’
‘Well, I’ve been to see a nice little place, actually. In Birmingham.’
She doesn’t speak, so I press on.
‘I wouldn’t bother you all the time if that’s what you’re thinking. I’d just be nearby because, uh, you probably don’t know this, but when your mum and dad left for New Zealand, Lydia, um, she asked me to take care of you.’
Lucy’s looking down at her hands in mine. I think she’s going to cry.
