“I’m sorry things didn’t—didn’t work out between us,” he said in a low voice.
“Me too,” Lucy said, and heard the ache in her voice. “But we can still be friends, can’t we?” she asked. “I just spoke to Bella and she was worried she messed things up between us.”
“Bella was?” Alex looked incredulous. “I thought . . .”
“She didn’t like me? I did too, although truthfully I don’t know if Bella knows how she feels. Teenagers are weird that way, especially teenaged girls.”
“And Bella’s only twelve.”
“You have your work cut out for you, then.”
“Lucy . . .” She had the sense that Alex was going to say something important, but it was cut off by the sudden crackle and bang of the fireworks starting. A collective gasp of admiration rose as everyone looked up to see a starburst of greens and red flare high in the sky.
It was impossible to talk during the fireworks show, and when it ended ten minutes later, Poppy and Bella rejoined Alex and everyone started trudging back to the village. The moment, Lucy knew, was gone.
Another week passed in a blur of cold, wintry days; Lucy went into Whitehaven and bought herself thermal underwear and several more scarves. She was busy at school, and while the awkwardness had eased a little between her and Alex, she didn’t know whether they were actually friends. Besides a bit of chitchat by the photocopier, they hadn’t talked much at all.
And she hadn’t yet made a decision about whether to stay in Hartley-by-the-Sea.
“You can’t have all your ducks in a row before you decide,” Juliet said one evening as she chopped carrots for their shepherd’s pie and Lucy laid the table. They’d become quite cozily domestic together. “Life doesn’t often work that way.”
“You must have had a few of them lined up when you decided to stay,” Lucy returned. “To buy this house and turn it into a bed-and-breakfast . . . how did you afford that, anyway?”
Juliet hesitated and then bit out a single word. “Fiona.”
“Mumbought it for you?”
“She sent me a check, after that visit when I was twenty. Blood money, it felt like, and I put it in the bank and didn’t touch it as a matter of principle. And I was tempted, let me tell you. I worked my way up the ladder at the hotel in Manchester the hard way. But then I came here and knew I wanted to stay, and Tarn House was for sale. . . .” Juliet shrugged. “Fiona never gave me a thing my whole life. Why shouldn’t she give me this?”
“Do you resent it, though?” Lucy asked curiously. “That you had to use that money?”
Juliet made a half-laughing, half-snorting sound. “Yes, of course I do.”
“Well, unfortunately for me, I don’t have a big nest egg waiting for me in the bank, so I definitely need a job.”
“No, you’ve had your way paid for since you were a baby,” Juliet pointed out. “Not that I’m bitter about it.”
“Mum must have paid for you, Juliet, for some things. School—”
Juliet shook her head. “Nothing. Oh, she fed and clothed me, at least until she moved to America.”
“But it was your choice not to come with us—”
“Is that what she told you?” Juliet asked, looking almost amused, although there was an edge to her voice.
“I suppose I assumed . . .”
“Fiona didn’t want me to come. Oh, she made a song and dance about how I needed to finish my A levels, said I only had one year left, I’d want to go to university in England, and so on. But it was clear she was going off with you and you alone. And she didn’t send a single penny to cover my costs. I was eighteen, so I suppose she felt she’d done her duty by me. I worked nights in a pub to cover my school uniform and to give something to my friend’s family, for room and board. They didn’t want to accept, but they weren’t rolling in it. Not like Fiona was.”
Lucy stared at her, appalled. “I had no idea. . . .”
“You just thought I didn’t get that wretched pony party?” Juliet surmised with a hard laugh. “Well, that too, I suppose.”
“No wonder you’re bitter.”
Juliet sighed, one hand braced on the counter as she stared out the window at the darkening night sky. “The truth is,” she said, “I’m tired of being bitter. Of being angry and hurt and all the rest of it. I just want to let it all go, forget about Fiona, but I can’t. I’ve tried, and Ican’t.”
“Maybe you need to talk to her,” Lucy suggested.
