“I hitched a ride.”
“And did you consider how dangerous that is?”
“Yes, actually, I did. But the woman who gave me a lift seemed perfectly safe and she was. So.” She took a deep breath. “Don’t baby me, Andrew, please.”
“Is that you or Rachel Campbell talking?”
“Did you even hear what I said?”
“Yes, actually, I did,” he parroted back at her before he sighed heavily. “Look, Claire, I’m not trying to annoy you. But you’ve always had someone looking out for you, usually me. It’s hard to know how to stop, or if it’s a good idea. Especially now.”
“I know,” she said softly. Even in primary school Andrew had been there, watching in the distance, a tough-looking Year Six to her scared Year Two. “You didn’t... ? You didn’t ask Rachel to look out for me back in primary school, did you?” she asked suddenly, and Andrew smiled, bemused.
“Are you kidding me? That would have seriously ruined my street cred.”
But he’d walked home with her every day, held her hand as they walked down the steep school lane. He hadn’t been too fussed about street cred. And then later, when she’d been at Wyndham, he’d been there, a steadying presence, older, wiser. He’d taught her to drive, until her mother had insisted Claire shouldn’t drive because of her ear. As if being deaf in one ear made you a liability. But then, to her mother, it had. In so many ways.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted.
“For what?”
“For needing to be looked after for so long. I get that I’ve seemed helpless to you. To everyone.”
“I’m hearing Rachel again.”
“But it’s true, isn’t it? Just because Rachel said it doesn’t matter. She said it to help me, and I am trying to change, actually—”
“But this isn’t your life, Claire.” Andrew turned to face her. “Living in our parents’ house, working in a village shop? I understand you need a break. But this isn’t real life.”
She blinked at him, absorbing his words. “And you think Portugal was real?”
“You had a decent job. You were engaged to be married. It stands to reason—”
“I was miserable in Portugal, Andrew. Miserable.” Her voice choked a bit, and she took a deep breath, willing the emotion back. “That’s why I drank too much. Once, at a party. Or twice, if I’m honest. But it was because I felt like my life was spinning out of control. Everyone had made all my decisions for me, and I’d let them. I understand that. I accept my responsibility for it. But I was looking at the rest of my life, and I didn’t want any of it.”
Andrew stared at her for a moment. “What about Hugh?”
“What about him?”
“Didn’t... ? Didn’t you love him?” The question sounded diffident, uncomfortable. The Wests didn’t use the L-word very often.
“No,” Claire admitted. “I don’t think I did.” She paused. “I know I didn’t.”
“Did he love you?”
“I doubt it. Andrew, I haven’t even spoken to him in more than a month.” What had she shown him of herself to love? “I think he just liked having me on his arm. And I’ve always been eager to please.” She smiled wryly. “Something else I’m trying to change.”
Andrew stared at her. “Why did Hugh call Mum and Dad, if he wasn’t genuinely concerned?”
“Because he wanted rid of me, I think.” Claire shrugged. “I’d embarrassed him in public and become a nuisance.” She winced at the recollection. “I admit it. I was loud and drunk and stupid at a party. I don’t even remember half of what I said. And Hugh wanted to... to punish me, I suppose.”
“Punish you? He sounds like a complete ass.”
Claire smiled at Andrew’s look of outrage. “Not a complete one. He could be quite charming, when he wanted to be.”
“He didn’t . . .” Andrew paused. “He didn’t . . . mistreat you, did he?”
“No, not like that. Never like that.” She tried for a laugh. “You sound like Anna Linhart.”
