‘Ah, you’re surprised I’m connected. It’s my grandson who persuaded me I needed to be online. He ordered a laptop for me, and a hub, whatever that is. They were delivered today. He’s going to come round at some point and set it up.
‘Oh, so it’s not up and running yet?’
‘Oh, dear me, no. I unpacked it, but haven’t a clue what to do with it, although I can’t wait to get online and find out what all the fuss is about.’
Bridie looked up sharply. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The internet. Why everyone raves about being online.’
‘Oh, right.’ Bridie’s relief was short-lived. She made a point not to bump into any more of her grandad’s neighbours.
‘You know,’ Mrs Hughes said, setting down a steaming mug, ‘Your grandfather used to have a young lady visitor years back. Pretty thing, always laughing. Young enough to be his daughter, mind you. They were just friends. But she was such a regular, I thought she was family.’
Bridie blinked. ‘Really? I don’t remember him mentioning her. When was this?’
‘Oh, years ago.’
‘What was her name?’
‘I don’t remember. I’m not sure he told me her name.’ The old woman tilted her head, studying Bridie. ‘Funny thing is, you remind me of her. Something in the eyes, maybe.’
Bridie laughed it off, though the words struck a chord. She’d always been Grandad’s favourite – why was that? Was it just because they had a shared love of the theatre that no one else in the family, apart from Layla, had – or was it something more? Was it because she reminded him of the mystery young woman who used to visit years earlier?
They chatted for another half-hour, with Mrs Hughes mentioning that she had seen him going out in his best suit – something he normally wore when he was going to the theatre– but disappointingly her grandad’s flat stayed dark. Bridie had nipped downstairs to knock on his flat door a couple of times, but there was still no sign of him. She had kept an ear out for the sound of someone downstairs, but there was nothing.
The clock ticked loudly, and Bridie felt the weight of exhaustion. It was getting on, and the humiliation of her day still hung heavy on her shoulders. The thought of explaining her downfall to her grandfather – tonight, of all nights – felt unbearable. She was starting to think it was for the best that he hadn’t been in when she’d turned up.
Mrs Hughes said, ‘I’m wondering if he did indeed go out to an evening show instead.’
Bridie thanked Mrs Hughes, promised she’d check in again soon, and hauled her suitcase back into the rain.
Chapter 6
The late train to Suffolk rattled through the darkness. Bridie watched her reflection blur in the glass, her eyes red-rimmed, her mouth set in a thin line. Every stop carried her further from the city she loved and closer to the place she’d sworn never to return to live. Suffolk. Her parents’ house. Failure.
Going home felt like defeat. Her parents had never believed she’d make it in theatre. They’d said she should get a proper job like her older sister. That night, she was proving them right.
When the taxi dropped her outside her childhood home, she stood for a moment staring at her parents’ beautiful home, the like of which she imagined she’d never afford in her lifetime. It was a red-brick detached thatched cottage down a long winding country lane. They’d extended the property years earlier as their family had grown, adding an extension to turn it into a three-bedroomed house with a large modern kitchen extension that had skylights and patio doors leading out into their large, neatly turfed garden, complete with a patio and garden chairs.
The biggest change to the property had been just recently when her father had used his last bonus to build a granny annexe – or a grandad annexe, to be precise. Built on to the propertyat a right angle, it looked like a single-storey cottage with little cottagey windows under a pantile roof.
As the taxi sped off, Bridie eyed the annexe. It would be good if it was completed, but from what she’d heard, the plaster walls were still drying out, waiting to be decorated, and the kitchen and bathroom were on order. It was an empty shell.
The annexe had surprised everybody considering that her dad and her grandad still weren’t speaking to one another. Bridie and her brother and sister agreed that whatever the problem between them was, it was very childish of them not to just be grown-ups and bury the hatchet.
Bridie was pleased that her parents had built the annexe. Her grandad was very independent, but there would come a time when he’d appreciate being looked after, surely. He’d still have his independence in the annexe, but with the security of family right next door.
The only thing that niggled at Bridie was the question of whether they had thought it through. It was a good idea in theory, but she could foresee a problem. How would he get on out here, in the middle of nowhere? Her parents lived in a small village. There were the countryside and the coast to enjoy, but her grandad enjoyed going to West End shows – that evening was a case in point. In conversation, Mrs Hughes had mentioned that she’d seen him all dressed up in a suit. It was a theatre night, obviously.
Bridie had decided not to check into a hotel and return to see her grandad in the morning. She didn’t want him to know just yet what had happened. She knew she could return to London and move in with him. It was bad enough facing her parents, but she dreaded having to tell her grandad what had happened with Julian, and about her behaviour, losing her theatre work on top of it; she just couldn’t bear the thought that she’d let him down –the one person who had always encouraged and supported her. She’d rather face her parents.
The porch light flicked on as she approached the cottage, highlighting the ivy creeping up the walls and curling around the window frames. Her mother opened the door, arms folded. Her expression, pinched and unsurprised, said everything before she even spoke.
‘So.’ Her voice carried all the judgement Bridie remembered. ‘It didn’t work out.’
Bridie didn’t know whether she was referring to her relationship, her job, or both. She was too tired to care. She had texted her mum on the train, giving a very truncated version of events. She and Julian had split up, and she wasn’t returning to the show; she was heading back home for a few days while she figured out what to do next.
Her father, in his slippers, hovered in the hallway behind her mother, silent as ever. He cleared his throat and retreated back into the safety of his armchair, as though he wanted no part in the performance.
