‘Alright, hon. I get it. You’ve made your point. I’ll find him. God knows how, but I’ll do it ... but only because you asked me to.’
‘The Bakers? Goodness, I haven’t thought about them in ages. Why do you ask?’
‘I was just wondering if you had a current address for them, that’s all,’ I said, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. Mum stopped folding the clothes from the tumble dryer and studied me for a moment, her head tilted to one side. It was a pose I remembered from old.
‘Youdoknow Mrs Baker – Janette – passed away, don’t you?’ Mum didn’t usually tiptoe around the word ‘died’ the way so many people did with the recently bereaved. I swear in the last year I must have heard every euphemism going, from ‘being called home’ to ‘crossing the rainbow bridge’, which I’m pretty sure is only meant to be for cats and dogs.
Mum was obviously still conscious of yesterday’s milestone anniversary. And she had no way of knowing that I was perfectly aware that Josh’s foster mother had died. I’d been at the funeral eight years earlier.
‘Yes. I knew about that. I was just curious if you still had Gordon Baker’s address? You know, from Christmas cards or whatever.’
Mum’s interest was piqued, which was exactly what I’d been hoping to avoid. There was also a surprising look of remorse on her face. ‘No, Lily. I’m afraid we lost touch over the years. I believe they moved house several times after leaving the area.’
They did. That much I knew.
‘Then I heard from a mutual friend that Gordon had gone into a care home a few years ago. Poor man. His dementia got so much worse after he lost Janette.’
ThatI wasn’t aware of. I felt a sharp pang of sadness for the couple who’d always been incredibly kind to me, which tipped over into a feeling of sorrow for Josh, knowing he’d effectively lost both the people who’d been more like parents to him than his biological ones had ever been.
‘You don’t know which care home, I suppose?’
Mum stopped trying to wrangle a fitted base sheet into a folded rectangle and leant forward on the kitchen table. All at once I felt like an unreliable witness about to be quizzed by a very experienced barrister.
‘What’s this all about, Lily?’
I bit my lip, not sure how much I wanted to tell her. Somehow, I’d never found the right moment to explain the events of six years ago to her, and the impossible situation I’d found myself in. When your parents had happily spent thousands of pounds on an enormous wedding, they probably didn’t want to hear that forty-eight hours before the big day, something had happened that made you suddenly question whether you were making the right choice.
Luckily, all that chaos and indecision had disappeared during my explosive row with Josh, and I’d never had to tell anyone how close I’d come to breaking two hearts in one fell blow.
And none of that mattered anymore anyway. Because Adamhadbeen the right choice. I’d loved him with all my heart and would continue to do so until the day I died. Which made trying to find Josh an even more ridiculous and pointless exercise. But a promise is a promise.
‘I think Muriel – that mutual friend I was telling you about – I think she might have the address of the care home. Would you like me to ask her for it next time I go into town?’
I paused for a very long moment. ‘Actually, Mum, can you ask her for it now? Today.’
There were a million questions dancing behind my mum’s eyes. But she didn’t ask any of them. It was one of the things I loved best about her. She knew when to probe, but more importantly, she also knew when to say nothing at all.
Chapter Four
An enormous pile of kibble clattered into Fletcher’s bowl, and then, after a moment of hesitation, I added even more. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be at the care home, or if Gordon Baker would even be willing to see me.
I guessed it would depend on how much Josh had shared with him about our ‘falling out’. I wrinkled my nose at the expression but could think of no other substitute.
I’d looked up the home online as soon as I returned from my parents last weekend. I’m not sure what I’d been expecting, but the luxurious, almost hotel-like accommodation and facilities came as a big surprise. I’d stayed at five-star resorts that weren’t so fancy.
As my phone navigated me to my destination, I tried to remember everything I knew about the Bakers. It turned out teenage me had paid very little attention to the family next door. I knew they’d had no children of their own, and had become foster parents quite late in life, choosing only to care for older children, ones with more complex issues or troubled backgrounds. My hands tightened on the wheel, because they’d certainly had their work cut out for them with Josh – or at least they had in the early days. If there was a rule, it was only there to be broken, or so he’d delighted in telling me. I think more than anything, he liked to shock me.
It was only years later that it occurred to me that, although he’d talked the talk, I couldn’t actually remember Josh doinganythingparticularly terrible. Unless you counted breaking someone’s heart a crime, that is. Because if you did ... well, then Josh was a repeat offender.
Wrought-iron gates flanked a meandering driveway that led to the main entrance of Redmount Care Home. The main building kept materialising and then disappearing behind an avenue of trees that bordered the driveway. The brief glimpses I got of it looked impressive.
I followed the arrows to an area designated for visitor parking and pulled into a vacant bay. Through the windscreen I studied the building, which looked much like a stately home in a period drama, with its neatly trimmed ivy clinging to the brickwork. The early afternoon sun hung low in the sky, turning the glass at every window molten orange.
As I climbed out of the car, I immediately regretted the casual black jeans and jumper I’d chosen. Every vehicle in the car park – except mine – looked expensive. I smiled, thinking how close I’d come to driving here in the small white van we used for deliveries. As it was, my five-year-old Fiesta was seriously out of its league.
What I hadn’t got wrong, however, was the timing of my visit. The car park was rapidly filling up; Saturday afternoon was clearly a popular time for visitors. I was halfway across the deeply gravelled forecourt when my steps faltered.What if, out of all the days he could have picked, Josh has chosen today to visit his foster father?It was a cool day, but that didn’t stop a faint sheen of perspiration from suddenly erupting on my top lip.
I was ready to meet my old neighbour again. I’d rehearsed what I would say to him and was confident I could pull off the air of nonchalance I wanted to convey. But bumping into the boy who’d stolen my heart, who’d grown up to be the man who broke it – not just once, but twice – well, that was a different prospect altogether.
