Nell turned to her. “Is that all you have to say? No sympathy? No concern for your daughter?”
She picked up the TV magazine and opened it again. “You heard your father.”
Recognising her mother’s supercilious tone, Nell bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted copper. “I’ll go pack my things then.”
Upstairs, in the childhood bedroom that was stamped indelibly in her memory, she texted Caroline while also flinging toiletries, clothes, and the presents she’d been gifted into her small suitcase. She couldn’t drive home yet, not with three glasses of chardonnay and a generous tot of brandy in her system.Can I stay at yours overnight, please?
Of course. Won’t do for a chief inspector to get nicked for drink-driving.
Nell laughed, but there was no mirth to it. She was forty-seven years old, and her parents were chucking her out of her childhood home. Potentially, she’d soured her relationship with them for what was left of their lives. Was there any way back and, even if there was, did she want it? Right now, her head was too close to bursting to be able to deal with questions like that.
Suitcase in hand, she hesitated in the hallway. Should she call out and say goodbye? Her father was almost certainly squirreled away in the parlour again, now that she’d vacated it. What of her mother? She hesitated, until that supercilious tone of hers replayed in her mind.
The night air was frosty and sharp. The suitcase’s wheels rumbled in a pleasing clunk-clunk-clunk rhythm. Caroline had offered to collect her, but she wanted to walk, to process what had happened. She was aching, and jubilant, and heart-sore, and angry, and a jumble of other emotions she couldn’t pare down individually.
She’d come out to her parents. All for a woman who was more committed to her job than to her and was currently in the same venue as her friend-with-benefits. Was she putting two and two together and making four hundred? Nell shook her head. Green with jealousy, she was now even more like the Grinch.
At the crossroads at the end of her parents’ street, she turned left, hoping that she was going the right way. And then one single, concise thought struck her. She hadn’t come out for Mattie, or for them as a couple, if they were indeed still a couple. She’d done it for herself.
Unbelievably, she’d managed to lift an invisible load.
Merry Christmas to me.
Chapter 34
In a daze, Mattie watched the bright lights of south London flash past as her Uber driver swerved to overtake a cyclist. Festive lights and Christmas decorations still adorned shops, despite it being January the third. It was a stark contrast to the subdued shadows of the damaged Turkish streets she’d left behind barely twenty-four hours ago. The air was significantly fresher, too. As fresh as London got, at least. Not so clean and clear as Devon. She sniffed. Was it her imagination, or did that stench of death still linger in her nostrils?
She clutched the bottle of red wine tighter. Two more streets and she’d be at Shona’s. Shona had given her an out, saying it was perfectly understandable if she was too knackered to attend her birthday dinner party, or didn’t feel like socialising. Mattie was exhausted, yes, but being around people was infinitely better than being on her own.
Shona flung the front door open before Mattie had a chance to ring the bell and hugged her.
“Happy birthday!” Mattie thrust the bottle into Shona’s hands.
Shona studied the label. “Ooh, Saint-Émilion. My favourite. You know me so well.”
Mattie wolf-whistled. “Gorgeous waistcoat. The steampunk look suits you.”
“Why, thank you. Come through. Everyone else is here.”
Mattie hooked her puffer jacket over the balustrade at the bottom of the stairs and followed Shona into her kitchen. She’d met Kate and Belinda many times before. Pooja was new to her and was a doctor at the hospital working alongside Shona. An eclectic collection of blues and jazz played in the background, and delightful aromas wafted over to the breakfast bar where they sat while Lisa played chef. It was the stuff of normal, everyday life, but she felt out of kilter. Mattie swallowed another mouthful of red wine. The Saint-Émilion deserved to be savoured rather than tossed back, but she’d need its hit to have any hope of being sociable. Lisa placed bowls of tortilla chips and olives in front of her. Food was also a good thing. She’d eaten a cereal bar and a turkey sandwich she bought on her way home from the airport last night. That was the closest she’d got to Christmas fare.
Pooja joined her at the kitchen island. “At the risk of sounding starry-eyed, I thought your news reports from Turkey were stunning, especially the ones from the field hospital,” she said. “Oh, and that one about dodgy building constructors.”
“Thank you.” Receiving praise was often awkward, especially when Mattie suspected people were just trying to puff her ego, but the sincerity in Pooja’s voice was clear. Mattie’s personal life might be a train wreck, but professionally, she was back in the game. That was what mattered, right?
Shona sauntered over and draped an arm around Mattie’s shoulders. “What Pooja’s too shy to say is that you’ve inspired her to volunteer for a charity-funded mission to train medical staff in Turkey.”
Mattie smiled widely. “That’s amazing!”
“Yes,” Shona said. “Except that I’ll be losing my best resident doctor for three months.”
“You’ll make such a difference.” Mattie shook her head. “It’s after the main story, when the cameras and attention have moved onto the next bad thing, that places need help. I fear what I’ll find if I go back in a year’s time.”
Shona lifted her eyebrows in challenge. “Maybe you should.”
“Dinner’s served, ladies,” Lisa said, carrying a white dish to the dining table at the opposite end of the open plan room. She placed it between two tall candles. Mattie watched their flickering flames and shuddered involuntarily.
“Let’s take these off to give us more room,” Lisa said quickly.
