Chapter Forty-Four
Kivi
Kivi waved until her arm hurt. Even after Saskia’s car disappeared into the distance, she stayed at the gate for a moment, just in case she’d forgotten something, or was dashing back for one final kiss. She didn’t want to put her arm down. When she did, it would be like Jean bringing the choir off at the end of a song. Final. Silent. Over.
Even though itwasn’tover. She had to keep reminding herself.Our proximity may be taking a break, but our relationship is not.She’d probably have to get the words tattooed on her wrist before she’d actually believe it though. Because who’d want to come back toher?
Whoa. She almost flinched, and stopped in her tracks as she walked up the driveway. She’d never thought quite like that before. She’d always had a fairly healthy self-esteem. Not arrogance, but she’d always regarded herself as decent enough looking, with a warm personality, and she sure as hell tried her damnedest to be a good person… but that couldn’t possibly be enough in comparison to Saskia. Saskia was… a goddess. An accomplished writer with more talent in her little finger than Kivi had in her entire body. With impeccable fashion tastes, andthe strength to overcome the cruel thoughts marauding around her head on a quest to steal her happiness – not just every now and again, but every day. And to top it off, she had the charisma to soften even the most curmudgeonly.
What the hell was Kivi thinking, believing that she was a match for that?
Time would tell whether their relationship survived this parting, she thought sadly as she re-entered the guest house. Especially at such a tender early stage. When they were together, physically, there was no doubt that they were a solid pairing. But now they were apart… Kivi sighed, and walked through to the kitchen.
As she approached, she could hear Eva talking, and the sound of another voice, a more robotic one. It wasn’t the placid-sounding automated voice of the smart speaker, so she must have been on the phone…?
“…we’ve had this journalist staying with us for the last month. Down here to write some stuff about Cornwall for a magazine. She’s just this minute left actually – Kivi’s just gone to see her off.”
“A journalist, hmm? Just so long as she writes nice stuff about you.” The voice of the person on the other end of the line was female. Older, deeper than any of Eva’s friends. Hold on a second – was that-
“Oh, Mum!” Eva sounded like she was rolling her eyes. “As if we’d give her cause to write anything different.”
“Well, you never know,” their mother said. “Always best to be cautious.”
Tears suddenly sprung to Kivi’s eyes. She knew that Eva had kept in semi-regular contact with their parents, but she hadnot spoken to them for several years. They, along with the rest of their extended family, had believed the lies that Gareth and Drew’s family had spread about Kivi being a fortune hunter and a predator. It had been a convincing case, but the distraught Kivi had decided that if they believed her capable of doing something so heinous, she didn’t want anything to do with them. And so they had lost touch. But there was something now about hearing her mother’s voice – the voice she’d known since before she was born…
“Hi, Mum,” Kivi said as she entered the kitchen. Her voice was surprisingly hoarse, but she knew her mother had heard it, for there was dead silence.
“Kiera,” her mother said in surprise. “It’s lovely to hear from you, darling. How… how are you?”
“I’m well,” Kivi managed. “Thank you. And yourself?”
“I’m fine.”
“And Dad?”
“He’s fine too. He’s not here right now. He’s out at his Sunday lunch club.”
“Nothing changes,” Kivi chuckled mirthlessly. Then the silence resumed, Eva staring at her from the sink like she’d suddenly grown two heads. Nobody spoke, and just as Kivi was contemplating walking straight through the kitchen and into her annex…
“How… how was your journalist?” Her mum sounded like she was tryingslightlytoo hard to be breezy. “Evangeline was just telling me.”
“What else did Evangeline tell you?” Kivi said, staring back at her sister as if daring her to say a word.
“Just that you’d had a journalist staying with you for the last month. Why? Is… there more to it?”
Trust her mother to sense what Kivi wasn’t saying. Kivi pursed her lips, and decided to just come out and say it. What did she have to lose?
“Actually, we’re in a relationship. She’s gone home to sort out her affairs, and then she’s moving down here permanently.”
“Oh!” Her mother sounded surprised. “Well, isn’t that lovely? What’s her name? I’ll look her up.”
“Saskia Saltmarshe.”
“Oh, very posh.” There was a tapping. Her mother must be sitting at the ancient PC they kept in the spare bedroom. Nothing would have changed there either. “Oh, yes, I see. Very posh, and very attractive. Does she treat you well?”
“Of course,” Kivi said.
“And she’s coming back, you say? After she’s sorted her affairs out?”
