But if we weren’t going to do that, whatwerewe going to do? How did he expect me to heal here if we were going to spend our time shopping for hideous nightwear and admiring vintage motor vehicles?
I couldn’t stay in here all afternoon dwelling on my two marriages and what a failure I’d been in both of them.
I wriggled back into my shoes and coat, grabbed my handbag and headed out of the inn, not even sure where I was going. I remembered I had the leaflets in my bag so as I walked, I scanned a couple of them.
Rowan Vale really was chocolate-box pretty, with its honey stone cottages and the banks of the river lined with daffodils that danced in the breeze. They wouldn’t be there much longer. They were already looking a bit past their best. Soon it would be May, and the landscape would change once again. Blossom would burst into life on the trees, and many of the fields would turn golden with oilseed rape. The seasons came and went, the years turned, and nothing remained constant.
Except the dull, aching feelings of regret and guilt that lived inside me.
‘Enough, Kirsty,’ I muttered to myself. ‘Just focus on the here and now for once.’
The Victorian Street was just across the water, and that looked quite interesting. A sweet shop, a chemist’s, a photography studio, a grocer’s, a butcher’s and a curiosity shop, as well as a house decorated and furnished in Victorian style lay at the head of the village green. Apparently, the stone structure that I could see from here was the old well.
I continued scanning the leaflet and smiled.
A Swinging Sixties street! That looked like fun. A toy shop, a fish and chip shop, a newsagent’s, a hair salon, a record shop, a boutique, and a cottage decorated as it would have been in the sixties. Now, that sounded more like it!
I stuffed the leaflets back in my bag and crossed the nearest stone footbridge over the river, heading along the wide footpath towards Churchside, which was where the Swinging Sixties street was located.
It really did feel like stepping back in time. The window displays and decor felt like another world, and I could imagine my mum would love it, as this was more her era. The toy shop window was full of things she’d probably played with when she was little – Sindy dolls and Tiny Tears, old board games and puzzles, a doll’s house with a shiny red roof and roses painted round the front door, cowboy outfits complete with toy guns, and a nurse’s outfit with a little cap and cape.
It was so sweet, and I remembered my mum telling me about the doll’s pram she’d got one Christmas, complete with a Tiny Tears doll, and how she’d treasured those gifts so much and wished she’d kept them so that one day she could have given them to me.
I moved on to the newsagent’s. My nose practically touching the glass, I peered with fascination at the books on display. They were old paperbacks, many of them for children. And the comics! Oh wow, Mum would love it here.
Jars of sweets were lined up on some shelves, and I noticed names like Kop Kops, sherbet pips, sour apples, rhubarb and custard, and toffee bon bons. I wondered if Mum used to enjoy sweets like that. I imagined her walking to school with her friends, dipping into the sweet shop and asking for two ounces of whichever treat had caught her fancy. Bless her. Maybe I should buy her some as a treat? I could take them to her when I got home. It was ages since I’d been to my parents’ house, come to think of it. I’d just been too busy. Too tired.
Someone moved in the reflection of the window, and I moved aside, thinking they wanted to get a better view of the display.
I went back to browsing the comics for a few moments, before becoming aware that the person behind me hadn’t moved. I lifted my gaze and saw her staring at me. I couldn’t make out her features but wow, she had wild hair.
Realising I was now staring at her as much as she was staring at me, I shifted uncomfortably and turned to leave. I flashed her an apologetic smile as I walked away because I’m British, and even when someone else is being decidedly rude to us we always feel sorry, as if the whole thing was our fault. It’s in our DNA.
‘Kir-Kirsty?’
I halted. Something about that voice… For some reason, goosebumps broke out on my arms, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.
Slowly I turned round and finally took a proper look at the rude woman who’d been gawping at my reflection in the window.
It took me a few moments. Initially the thought flashed through my mind that she looked an awful lot like Brooke. But then it occurred to me that she’d said my name, and how would a stranger know that?
Anyway, I’d never seen my cousin dressed like that before, and what the heck was going on with this person’s hair?
But as I kept staring at her I couldn’t help reaching the conclusion that itwasBrooke. Which was insane. And clearly, I was insane, too.
I mean, I’d certainly not expected to see her on a little street in Rowan Vale because – well – because she’d been dead eighteen years. So there was that.
‘Brooke?’ Part of me was telling myself that I was being stupid. How could it possibly be Brooke? The other part of me was telling me to shut up because there was clear evidence right in front of my eyes. I knew my cousin. This was Brooke all right, and she might be dead, but she was looking bloody well from where I was standing.
‘I can’t believe it,’ she murmured. ‘What areyoudoing here?’
‘What amIdoing here?’ I threw up my hands in disbelief. ‘That’s rich, coming from you! What areyoudoing here? You do know you died eighteen years ago?’
As I said the words an irrational thought took hold.Hadshe died? Had she somehow miraculously escaped the car crash? Had there been someone else in the car who had been mistaken for Brooke? My mind was a jumble of chaotic thoughts.
‘Well, thanks for the reminder,’ she said, folding her arms and fixing me with one of her looks.
And that’s when I was certain. This was Brooke all right. I remembered that sulky expression now. I’d almost forgotten. We used to get on really well, but in the last couple of years of her life she’d changed. It was like she hated me at times, yet at other times she’d be all over me, buying me little presents and being extra kind, which always made me suspicious.
