Her mum lifted her cup to take a sip. ‘Perfect. I love those little shiny biscuits.’
Greta turned away, her lips trembling. She glanced back once more, just to see her mum, still smiling, still here.
‘Bye, Mum,’ she whispered.
‘Bye, love. See you tomorrow.’
‘Yes.’
Then Greta opened the café door and stepped into the rain.
Chapter 33
GRETA RUSHED ACROSSthe town, her head tucked against the rain. It was falling harder now, trickling down her cheeks and clinging to her eyelashes.
The cherry blossoms in the tree shivered under the weight of the droplets. Parakeets huddled together on a branch. The ice-cream van had shut up shop, and the rain dappled the water in the fountain bowl. Shopkeepers stood in their doorways, gazing up at the sky and trying to make sense of the impossible.
‘Are you okay, madam?’ the baker called out as Greta dashed past.
‘Yes, fine. Thank you.’ Greta lifted a hand in a quick wave, not even glancing at the rows of glazed doughnuts in his window. ‘Goodbye, and thank you, sir.’
She choked back a sob as she rushed through the town she loved.
When she finally pushed through her front door, the warmth of the house enveloped her. She could smell Maple Gold coffee, a trace ofJim’s cologne, and the sweetness of Lottie’s pancakes.
Greta stumbled into the living room, running a hand over her flattened hair. Wet patches marked the front of her dress.
Jim and Lottie sat cross-legged on the floor, leafing through a photo album together. The tenderness radiating between them made Greta want to pull them close for a hug.
Lottie laughed as Jim pointed out a picture of the three of them playing mini-golf. Another showed the Perks family slurping milkshakes through striped straws.
Greta swallowed hard. She had to leave. But how could she walk away fromthis?From her family?
‘Hey, Mum,’ Lottie said, her face brightening. ‘Dad found some old photos. Come and take a look.’ She patted a space on the carpet beside her.
Greta hesitated, knowing she had to go quickly. But she lowered herself down.
Jim held up a photo of Lottie as a toddler, her hair tied with ribbon into neat bunches. She was surrounded by pink balloons, and the number four stood proudly on top of her birthday cake.
Greta shook her head, fighting back a tear. In reality, Lottie had spent her fourth birthday curled up in bed with a stomach bug, groaning and holding her belly. She and Jim had to call off her party at the last minute. But in Mapleville, there was a photo of Lottie with an armful of presents, grinning among her friends.
Jim turned the pages, revealing more snapshots. Christmas mornings and bonfire nights, family outings and meals. They looked so familiar, and yet alsooff.
She was home. And yet she wasn’t.
Greta traced her fingers across a photo of her and Jim wearing matching sweaters before forcing herself to look away. She pushed herself back up to her feet. ‘I have to go . . .’ Her voice cracked. ‘I need to leave here . . .’
‘Leave, where?’ Lottie glanced up. ‘We were just about to play cards. Dad fancies a game ofUno.’
Uno.They hadn’t played that together for a long time. Greta’s bottom lip trembled as memories surfaced. The three of them sitting in a taverna on holiday, drinking freshly squeezed orange juice and grinning over their closely guarded cards.
Did she have time for one last game?
She looked quickly out of the window. The rain was firing down even harder now. The sky was a smoggy grey.
Tears burned Greta’s eyes. She reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Lottie’s ear. ‘Another time, okay? I have to be . . . somewhere else.’
Lottie nodded with a confused smile. ‘That’s okay, Mum. I’ll play with Dad. Then we can all have a game later.’
