“I bet she does.”
Mabel bats the sand from her hands. “I wouldn’t want to, though. I’m happy here.”
I smile. “Brill.”
I watch Archie playing with the two boys. They seem to be digging a moat around the castle and laying a trench that connects it to the sea.
“But I’m not going to fall out with her,” Mabel adds. “I’ve been thinking, and I was probs a bit panicky at the start of summer.”
My eyes settle on a kite bobbing in the sky. “We’ve all been there—or at least I have. You may have been thinking you’d lost your dad and then the whole thing happened with your mum and you were worried about losing her.”
I realize I’ve brought up Kate’s lie about having a job. I didn’t intend to, especially as Mabel has made a great effort to avoid the subject ever since she told us the truth. I hope it doesn’t backfire.
“You know, I was devo about Mum,” Mabel confesses, gazing out at the horizon. “About her pretending to have another job and going away without us.”
I’m pleased she’s confiding in me but am aware that what I say next is very important.
“Mabel, I don’t know your mum very well,” I begin. “But I do know breakups can be very difficult. Especially when it’s not what you want.”
She plunges her hand back in the sand. “I suppose so.”
Into my head flashes an image of my mum, spotting Gary with another woman and bolting into the road.
“People can behave irrationally when they’re emotional,” I continue. “But we shouldn’t judge them because we can never really know what’s going on in their head—even when we’re very closeto them. The important thing is it wouldn’t have been about you: your mum wouldn’t have lied because she wanted to leave you. She’d have been angry and wanting to get at your dad. That doesn’t change the way she feels about you.”
I pause as I remember the one thing Mabel needs to hear most.
“Your mum loves you.”
Mabel pulls out her hand and lets the sand fall from her fist. “That’s what she says.”
“And …? Have you forgiven her?”
“Not yet.”
I watch the sea rush into the trench Archie and the boys have dug, filling the moat around the castle. The three of them cheer and Archie looks up to check I’ve seen. I give him a wave.
I turn back to Mabel. “Take it from me, keeping resentment inside you is like storing rotting fruit in the fridge: it’ll only go on rotting and the badness will just spread.”
I wonder if my metaphor could be applied to my feelings about my dad.
I check my phone to see if I’ve received a reply: I have.
“Sorry,” I say to Mabel, “I just need to read this.”
I shield my screen from the sun and give the email a quick scan.
Great news, lad! Wud love to see u. We arrived today but the campsite is quieter than we’re used to. Why don’t u come tomorrow? Our address is … Dad.
I feel a jangle of anxiety.
But I know the answer has to be yes.
Chapter 44
It’s Monday and the start of our final week in Italy. I’m on my way to visit Dad and Debbie in Umbria. My breathing is shallow and my shoulders are around my ears.
At least I’ve got used to driving on the right-hand side of the road—and am not fazed by a ninety-minute journey, including a long stretch on the motorway and several toll roads. The only thing that does make me uncomfortable is having to navigate around the cyclists—and, even worse, clusters of cyclists—darting down the country lanes. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to them.
