‘Most of it was sold with the cottage. Although I did give the solicitor a box of personal items. I say personal but to be honest there wasn’t much like that in the cottage. No photographs. Only a few books, a seagull ornament, some keys that didn’t fit anything at the cottage and which I’m now thinking were probably for his place in Manchester. And a couple of awards he’d won in various local competitions. He was the star in the pub quiz team.’
‘Does the solicitor still have them?’ asked Dawn.
‘That’s the thing. I rang and they told me that the box had been picked up. But for confidentiality reasons they can’t tell me who collected it.’
*
Blythe put up her umbrella as she left the pub. It was tipping it down so hard the rain was bouncing back up off the pavement. This wasn’t the light dusting of snow Leonora had ordered and she’d not be pleased with the substitution.
She rushed along with her brolly at an angle to try to keep the worst of the weather off her. She dashed across the road and immediately bumped into someone. ‘Oh my word, I am so sorry. I didn’t see—’ As she moved her umbrella, there stood Sam rubbing his chin, which from the red bump coming up was likely where she had stabbed him with her umbrella.
‘It’s okay,’ he said, his voice tight. He went to walk past her.
‘Sam, let’s not leave things like this. Can we talk?’
Sam shook water from his hair and swept a hand over his outfit. He was clearly out running. ‘I need to get on,’ he said, jogging past her.
Blythe drew in a breath. She’d tried and she certainly wasn’t going to beg. Not even Sam Ashton was worth that. And what sort of fool went for a jog in a downpour anyway? When the sound of the rain on her umbrella made her realise she’d just been standing there on her own, she pulled herself together and carried on to the village hall at speed.
*
Blythe was pleased she wasn’t the only person who looked like a wet dog. Eden was one of a number of small soggy children playing with Lego in the corner and Leonora was marching up and down only occasionally pausing to look at her flip chart. Blythe left her brolly with the other dripping items and went to join everyone at the table.
Blythe sat down next to Vicky. ‘Everything okay?’ she asked, with a nod towards Leonora.
Vicky leaned in and spoke in hushed tones. ‘Not really. It turns out Owen is a lot smarter than I gave him credit for. I mean, I know I was never unkind enough to say he was a reindeer short of a sleigh team but he was never on the list for Mensa either. Turns out he’s worked out that he could be Eden’s father. Actually, he’s convinced that he is. Now he wants to play happy families whilst I’m wondering whose sperm swam the quickest.’
‘Tart?’ asked Norman. Vicky and Blythe both spun in his direction. Vicky glared at him. ‘Cranberry and orange tart?’ Norman tentatively offered Vicky the cake box.
‘Ooh yes, ta,’ said Vicky reaching inside.
‘No thanks,’ said Blythe. Vicky stared wide-eyed at her, as did Norman, as if she had uttered cake blasphemy. ‘Maybe later,’ she added, and they both relaxed.
When Norman and the cakes had moved on Blythe whispered to Vicky. ‘Are you really not sure who her father is? I thought you said it was that bloke from the factory.’
‘That’s the thing – I don’t know. It’s not like it could be a whole rugby team. There’s only two possibles. What should I do about Owen?’ she asked, before sinking her teeth into the tart.
‘Be honest,’ said Blythe. ‘He deserves that. If he has all the information then it’s up to him what happens next. If you deceive him, it’s likely he’ll never trust you again. And if you’re not straight with him now you could lose something very special.’ Blythe thought of Sam and sighed deeply.
‘Blimey, that’s a bit profound. But you’re right. If I tell him and he cops a strop then that tells me all I need to know. Thanks.’
Blythe wished she could go back in time and heed her own advice. The look on Sam’s face when she’d bumped into him flitted into her mind. The harsh look in his eyes would stay with her for a long time. She hated that she’d hurt him and let him down. He’d had enough of that in his life. But then she couldn’t help thinking that he’d been very quick to walk out on her. Wasn’t she worth fighting for?
‘You okay?’ asked Vicky.
‘I saw Sam on the way here. He can barely look at me.’
‘Can I offer you some advice?’
Blythe needed all the help she could get. ‘Please do.’
Vicky placed her forearms on top of each other in front of her, making Blythe wonder what was going to happen next. ‘You are too closed,’ said Vicky, nodding at her arms held rigidly across her chest. ‘You need to open up your doors and let him in.’ She turned out one arm and then the other.
‘I think we’re past that point.’
‘It’s never too late. Look at me and Owen. I opened up my doors and—’
‘I’m not sure I’m ready to let anyone in. Every time I do they—’
