Callie tilted her head. ‘Actually, it was avain,selfishfuckingbaby. But you were right. I was.’ Callie stepped closer until they were separated only by the dusting of flour and bowls with unfinished doughnut mix.
‘I’ll stop Neil,’ Callie said. And then had to amend. ‘I’lltry.’
Mae’s gaze met hers, steady and sceptical. ‘Why?’ she asked. ‘So nobody knows you broke my heart?’
‘So, nobody gets to edit our mess into something… cheap,’ she said. ‘You can continue to hate me in all the privacy you deserve.’
Mae’s expression did something uncertain. ‘Who says I hate you?’ she muttered, and then she abruptly started cleaning up. Wiping surfaces, throwing out the contents of the bowls.
Callie’s eyes widened. ‘Do you?’
Mae grabbed a chemical spray and spritzed the surface, wiping it shiny.
Callie watched and waited.
At last, Mae looked up. ‘I don’t know what I feel about you,’ she said. ‘That’s the problem.’
Callie felt hope she’d never dreamed of. A crack had opened up, and a glimmer of light was shining through.
Thirty-Five
Was it true? That Callie’s mother had sprung a pregnancy on her that night? That she hadn’t known about the funeral. That she’d tried to come back.
Mae hoped it wasn’t true, in a way. She longed for the clean lines of bitterness and resentment. But this new information had knocked her off balance.
Callie’s question about whether Mae hated her was still hanging there between them.
‘I don’t know what I feel about you,’ Mae said honestly. ‘That’s the problem.’
Callie just looked at her while she cleaned. Her head hurt.
‘I understand that,’ Callie said quietly. ‘About not knowing.’
‘Good,’ Mae said. ‘Saves explaining myself.’ It came out sharper than she meant.
Callie half-smiled. ‘You never did like doing that.’
Mae started tidying trays that did not need it.
‘Don’t talk like you still know me,’ she said.
Callie visibly flinched. But she let it go. ‘Thank you for hearing me out. I’m grateful to have had the chance to say it all.’
Mae glanced at her. ‘You don’t look grateful.’
‘I look like someone who’s finally been given a hearing for my crimesandsomeone who’s very grateful,’ Callie said. ‘It’s a lot to fit on my face all at once.’
Mae snorted, despite herself.
Silence dropped in again, but it wasn’t as dense as a brick anymore. More like unbaked bread.
She thought of the things Callie had just told her. The bus. The war memorial at three in the morning. Standing outside this very door and then walking away. She couldn’t verify any of that. But she could verify Callie’s mum’s pregnancy. Little Hannah was the right age for that to be true. So the rest might be too.
Part of her still bristled at the fact she hadn’t known. That Callie had not just explained it later. That she’d let this bad thing stay bad. She’d let the gap between them grow.
Another part, the one that had never quite managed to hate Callie properly, pictured her on the kerb with her head in her hands and felt the pain of it.
‘Why didn’t you bang on the door?’ she asked, before she could overthink it.
