‘Of course, I know how busy you are. Hugh was always so proud of you, how you took on the gallery and threw yourself into it with such dedication.’
They were in the hall now and Nina was rummaging in her bag for her keys when Hilary said, ‘What will happen to the embryos you and Hugh stored at the clinic?’
Thrown by the question, Nina said, ‘That’s another decision I have to make.’
‘If I understand things correctly,’ Hilary said, ‘you have two choices, donate the embryos to another couple or have them destroyed.’
‘Or they can be used for research,’ said Nina.
Hilary looked appalled. ‘You mean part of Hugh could be tinkered with, like … like some hideous Frankenstein experiment?’
Nina wasn’t surprised at Hilary’s reaction; she had expected it. ‘I think that’s a little extreme, don’t you? And what would you have, your grandchild being brought up by an anonymous couple?’
‘It’s not what Hugh would have wanted.’
‘None of this is what Hugh wanted,’ Nina said grimly, ‘but I’m left with the mess to sort out and I have to do it my way because I’m the one who has to live with it.’
And with that, she said a curt goodbye and drove home.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
On returning to Hope Hall, it didn’t take long for Cassie’s soaring spirits to be brought back down to earth with a monumental crash.
During the journey home from Dorset where they’d stayed the night at a charming hotel to break the long drive from Burgh Island, Cassie had promised herself that nothing would spoil her mood when they arrived home. No matter the mess or general awkwardness of having a woman whom Cassie was predisposed to dislike on principle living with them, she would retain the loved-up happiness she was running high on. But within minutes –no, make that seconds!– of letting themselves in, her mood took an immediate nosedive.
They’d found Emily stretched out on one of the sofas, mobile in hand, thumb scrolling. She’d looked up tiredly when Cassie greeted her with all the excited brightness of somebody bursting with news to share, namely the reason for the ring on her finger. But at the lacklustre welcome, Cassie had felt peevishly cheated of her happyta-daamoment and had determined not to say anything unless the ring was actually noticed.
There was no sign of Rosalyn or Finlay, but the polished streamlined perfection of the open-plan sitting and dining area had been decimated. Painting and colouring things were spread over the large glass-topped table, lumps of brightly coloured Play-Doh appeared to have been flung far and wide as though fired with the aid of a scatter gun. The rugs and wooden flooring had been turned into a minefield of toy cars, pieces of jigsaw puzzles and bits of Lego. Over in the kitchen area, the worktops were covered with pots and pans, opened packets of pasta, biscuits and unwrapped cheese. The sink was crammed full of dirty dishes.
The sight of the chaotic mess incensed Cassie but Ben smoothly took charge and suggested she go and unpack while he and Emily tidied up.
‘Don’t make any noise, Mum,’ Emily said, making a half-hearted attempt to haul herself off the sofa, ‘Finlay and Rosalyn are both in bed asleep.’
‘But it’s only eight o’clock,’ said Cassie, ‘why is Rosalyn in bed? Is she unwell?’
‘Way to go, Mum!’ Emily said with a roll of her eyes. ‘Of course she’s unwell, the man she loved has died and she’s worried sick about the future. I’d have thought it was obvious, even to you, that she would be exhausted and would need to take care of her mental health by sleeping as much as she can. Doing anything is just too much of a strain for her right now.’
‘Right,’ said Cassie, thinking how lucky Rosalyn was to have the luxury of being able to sleep all her worries away. When Cassie had been on her own all those years ago with Emily to care for and a job to hold down to pay the bills, she hadn’t taken to her bed like some pathetically incapable Victorian heroine.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ demanded Emily.
‘What?’ said Cassie.
‘Right’Emily mimicked. ‘It was judgey and loaded with sarcasm and micro aggression.’
‘Rubbish!’ responded Cassie, furious at the accusation. ‘And if I was implying anything, it would be that maybe mollycoddling might not be the answer. In the long run it won’t help Rosalyn get herself back on her feet.’
Emily rounded on her. ‘Not everyone is as tough or as heartless as you.’
Over by the table where Ben was tidying up the painting things, he cleared his throat. ‘Your mother is not heartless, Emily. If she was, do you think she would have invited Rosalyn and her son to stay here with us?’
‘Dad said she was,’ Emily muttered. ‘He said that was why he was never allowed to see me when I was little. He told me that.’ She pointed a finger at Cassie. ‘You stopped me from knowing him properly and now that he’s dead I never will!’
At the downright unfairness of her daughter’s words, Cassie wanted to let rip with a torrent of angry denial, but she knew that to unleash even an atom of it would make things worse. ‘That’s absolutely not what happened,’ she said calmly, ‘and I’m sorry that Drew lied to you.’
‘He didn’t lie!’ roared Emily. ‘You’re the liar!’
Enough was enough, and deploying a salvo of sarcasm, Cassie said, ‘I thought we weren’t allowed to make any noise for fear of disturbing our guests?’
