‘But look at the future I’m taking from them. I’m sure they expected to bring over the grandkids to our home, to have years of big family Christmases and celebrations. I’m tearing that whole picture to shreds.’
‘Because it never existed. What they would actually have had was years of visiting, with gran spending the whole time a nervous wreck in case anyone did anything that would upset granddad.’
‘He never let them see that side of him,’ Bernadette argued. ‘He has always been the big shot, the total charmer. At least, I thought he was. After what Nina just told me, I was obviously wrong about that.’
Sarah slipped the van into drive. ‘Okay, let’s get it over with. What time will Kenneth be back tonight?’
‘I’m not sure. I don’t even know if he went back to the house at lunchtime. Lord, I hope not. What if he noticed that stuff is gone?’
‘He wouldn’t have and if he did, he’d have phoned,’ Sarah said, perfectly calmly.
‘You’re right but… Bugger it, I need to check.’
She pulled her mobile phone out of the blue navy bag Nina had got her last Christmas. Marks and Spencer. She’d spotted it when they were in doing their Christmas shopping and Nina had bought it there and then. That had been a lovely day, but Kenneth had been furious because she wasn’t there when he got home. The thought made her stomach clench. If that upset him, what was he going to do when he discovered that this Christmas she wouldn’t be there at all?
Marge’s voice on the other end of the phone was a welcome interruption. ‘Dr Manson’s office, can I help you?’
‘Afternoon Marge, it’s Bernadette.’
‘Oh, hello there. How are you?’ she chirped happily. That was Marge. Always so warm and happy. She’d been Kenneth’s secretary forever and… a sudden thought… she’d miss her. Wow. She hadn’t even considered that she’d have no need to talk to Marge any more. How many other things had she not thought through?
‘Marge, is Kenneth still in surgery?’
‘No, his morning one finished just before twelve.’
Oh, shit. Buggering shit. He’d have gone home for lunch. He already knew. He was probably still sitting there, staring at the empty cupboard in the upstairs hall where she’d stashed all the stuff she was taking and then removed it this morning.
She stuttered over her words. ‘Oh. Eh, I didn’t realise. I would have made him lunch if I’d known he…’
‘Ah, no, he had a lunch appointment today so he didn’t go home. He’s already back and he’s doing afternoon rounds before he goes back to theatre,’ Marge said. She didn’t go into detail, but Bernadette was so busy being relieved that she didn’t probe any further.
‘Do you need to speak to him? I can try to get hold of him…’
‘No, no, it’s absolutely fine. Can you give me an idea of what time he’ll be done though?’
There was a pause as Marge checked his schedule. ‘I think around seven. But you know how these things go – could be sooner or later. Shall I leave a message for him to call you?’
‘No, no, it’s fine. It’s nothing that can’t wait. I’ll see him when he gets home. Thanks Marge. You have a good weekend.’
And a good month. Year. Life.
She hung up, the relief now tinged with sadness. Marge had been a lovely constant in her life for a long time. Not as close as a friend, mainly due to the fact that Kenneth didn’t like to mix professional and personal life, but someone she would miss chatting to.
‘I’ve always loved this building,’ Sarah said, almost to herself, as they drew into a parking space at the side of the Mitchell Library.
‘Me too,’ Bernadette answered. It was indeed glorious. Opened in its Charing Cross location in 1911, it was an architectural marvel constructed of blond sandstone, with a stunning dome on the roof. At night it was illuminated, its beauty breathtaking.
Bernadette loved the interior even more. When the kids were small there had been none of those soft play areas or baby yoga, or all that other stuff they had now, so this was where shehad brought them, at least once a week. They’d sit in the children’s section and read, then have a juice and a treat in the café. It had been their favourite thing. Such a shame kids had so many other distractions these days.
‘Oh God, you’ve gone all misty-eyed. Are you getting sentimental and nostalgic? Do I have to break out the tissues?’
Bernadette sniffed, smiled and steeled herself. ‘Nope, all good.’
‘Great, let’s go then. I’ll wander around the Scottish crime section while you talk to Stuart – see if I can come up with a back-up plan involving murder and mayhem in case Kenneth kicks off.’
Sarah slipped her arm through Bernadette’s as they walked around to the back entrance, the one that led into the café area. All the while, Bernadette was listening to an internal battle in her mind.
Don’t be there. Be there. Don’t be there. Be there. Don’t be there. Aaaaargh.
