“No.” Talking about her father had felt natural, but talking about her mother? That was different. Heat prickled her skin. Her mother wasn’t some third party, removed from all this. She was part of it. Any moment now Evie would be asking what job her mother did and Abby would have failed in hertask less than forty-eight hours into the job. Hoping to head off those questions, she stood up and stretched. “What next? I’m pretty hungry.”
“Me, too.” Evie crammed the hat back on her head. “Let’s go back. We can eat in the garden.”
They ran back towards the village, Abby relieved at having managed to cut the conversation off and rehearsing future conversation topics in her head. She’d talk about the house, about the garden. She’d ask questions about the village, about the fishermen, about shipwrecks. Maybe she’d ask a question or two about Tristan.
Anything, as long as they kept away from the personal. Her family. Her history.
It would be fine.
Her optimism lasted as long as it took Evie to put the key into the door of her pretty cottage.
“So you grew up without a dad and I grew up without a mum. That sort of makes us tragedy sisters, doesn’t it? Although I had my grandmother too, and obviously everyone in the village.” She stepped into the house and dropped her keys onto the little table by the front door. “How about you? Did you have extended family? How did your mother manage? Come through to the kitchen and I’ll make us both a drink.”
“No extended family. It was just the two of us.”
“No grandparents?”
“My grandfather walked out when my mother was eleven, and my grandmother died when my mother was eighteen. It’s not something my mother ever talks about much.” Abby followed Evie through the house, noting the pretty yellow walls and the splashes of blue in the form of quirky pots and cushions. There were photos of sea-birds and boats, and the evening light flooded through the windows and bounced off the whitepainted floor. Her gaze rested on a photo on a bookcase, a man and a woman laughing together.
Evie followed her gaze. “That’s my mum.”
“You look like her.”
“So everyone tells me. I like to keep photos of her around. It makes me feel as if she’s with me. Are you the same?”
“I—er—no. It was a difficult time. My mother preferred to put it behind her.” That, at least, was the truth.
“Sounds as if your mum had a tough time. What does she do?”
Abby’s mouth was dry. “She’s a businesswoman. She has her own business.”
“Successful?”
“Yes.”
“Well, good for her. You must be proud. And she must be proud of you.”
Fortunately, that was a statement, not a question, so Abby didn’t have to answer but the words disturbed something inside her.
She watched as Evie opened the fridge. Was her mother proud? There was no evidence to suggest it.
“It’s weird,” Evie said, “because although I didn’t know my mother, I feel as if I do. My dad talks about her all the time, and so do other people. I’ve sort of formed a picture of her over the years. I expect you’re the same. You build your own impression of someone.”
Abby managed to nod, signifying that she knew what Evie meant.
In fact she had no idea what Evie meant.
She had no impression of her father. He was a ghost. Nothing more than a name.
Evie pulled out a jug of lemonade. “I bought too many lemons by accident so I made lemonade. That sounds like one ofthose annoying sayings, doesn’t it? Don’t be impressed. Usually when I have too many lemons I don’t make lemonade—I forget about them and they go mouldy in the fruit bowl.”
She put ice into two tall glasses and topped them up with the cold lemonade. She handed a glass to Abby.
“Are you hungry? We can eat in the garden. It’s such a warm evening it’s a shame to be indoors.” She drank the lemonade and put the glass down. “I have fresh mackerel which I picked up this morning, and salad. Is that okay?”
“It sounds more than okay.” Abby was relieved that the conversation had moved on from the personal. “What can I do?”
“You could mix up a salad while I fry the fish. It came straight off the boat so it won’t take much cooking.” She pulled the fish from the fridge, picked up a sharp knife and filleted it like a pro. Then she seasoned it with sea salt and black pepper.
