Jules bit her lip.
‘I thought he might be the one. Just shows what a good judge of character I am.’
‘Has it occurred to you that you’ve had a lucky escape?’
‘If you’d said that a few days ago I’d have shouted at you, but now, after some time here, I do know that.’
‘Are you okay over there, on your own?’
‘I’m not on my own. I’ve got Carrie nearby and there’s Rita just around the corner and her granddaughter, Tasha, and Lance who runs the pottery and his daughter, Erin, and The Major and Jo – and now I’ve got Mum just down the road. At least she’s not staying with me, thank goodness.’
‘Sounds as if you’ve got a whole sea of supporters.’
‘I hadn’t thought of it like that, but yes, I suppose I have.’
‘I’m here for you, too, Jules, if you need me. I’m sorry about offloading when you’ve got your own problems.’
‘It’s fine. When I come back to the mainland, perhaps we could meet up, have some lunch, do some sisterly things?’
‘I’d like that. And Jules, I know that Mum can be suffocating, but she does love us.’
‘I know.’
‘What are you doing this evening?’
Jules looked around the sitting room, at the squashy sofa, the pile of magazines on the coffee table, the fire laid and ready to be lit if the temperature dropped.
‘The wind’s getting up here and it’s gone a bit colder so I’m going to snuggle down, see what’s on the TV and have a nice quiet evening. Doesn’t sound like party girl me, does it?’
‘No, but it sounds perfect for where you are now,’ Phoebe said.
‘All part of the new me,’ Jules replied.
‘I’m going to pour myself a glass of something non-alcoholic and drink to that. The new Jules in the right place at the right time with the right people around her.’
And when she put it like that, Jules thought, it sounded incredibly settling.
FOURTEEN
Jules was showered and in her dressing gown and watching the end of a film when she thought she could hear crying. She turned the television down and sat for a moment wondering if she was imagining it, if it was one of those noises that Carrie attributed to ghosts, but for which she would be able to find a rational explanation. But no. There were definitely soft, muffled sobs coming from somewhere. She followed the sound towards the front door. Huddled in the porch, knees drawn up to her chin, hair falling forwards across her face, was Tasha. In her hands she cradled something.
‘Tasha, what on earth has happened?’ Jules bent down so that she was almost on a level. ‘Are you ill or injured?’
A shake of the head.
‘Then you can get up. Come on. You can’t sit there. It’s chilly for the time of year and the wind is blowing straight into the porch. That step must be freezing.’
She touched the girl’s bare arm.
‘Goodness, you’re cold. And you’re only in pyjama shorts and a strappy top. Let’s get you inside.’
She helped Tasha to her feet and guided her to the sitting room, lowering her onto the sofa and wrapping onemohair throw around her shoulders and another over her legs. Instinctively she dropped a kiss on to the top of her head.
‘I’m going to get you a warm drink.’
She passed her the television controls.
‘I won’t be a minute. Change channels if you want to.’
