Chapter Thirty-Three
‘Of course you can have another go on the swing! Wait a second, I’ll be right there.’
Beth wrapped up the leftover sandwich – Poppy’s favourite tuna on wholemeal bread – and scanned the park for Poppy’s older brother, Will. He was safely digging in the sandpit, a fierce look of concentration on his face.
They looked so much like Luke. The same hair colour, the way they crinkled their noses when puzzled or annoyed. But they had Beth’s tenacity. Whatever the task, they stuck with it. They never, ever quit.
‘Will!’ Beth called to her son. He didn’t hear her. ‘Will!’
This time he looked up, but his features were blurred. He didn’t look like Luke anymore. And Poppy, sitting on the swing, didn’t look like her daughter.
‘Where are my children?’ Beth screamed, racing towards them. The faster she ran, the more they faded. Shadows with familiar faces, much younger faces, babies?—
Beth, wake up.
Beth wanted the voice to go away. To seek refuge in the moment when she’d had a family. Two perfect children, a future to look forward to. But the voice persisted. ‘Beth?’
Dragging her head off the pillow, Beth squinted at the doorway.
‘Hey, it’s only me.’ Angela stood awkwardly, body behind the door, head poking in.
‘Oh, hi, Angela.’ Beth brushed a sweaty strand of hair from her face. She felt exhausted and sure she looked a wreck.
‘Sorry, I heard you cry out. Bad dream?’
Beth nodded. Except it had been a lovely dream. Beth, with two children. Normal life. Ordinary magic.
‘Listen, stay in bed if you want, but Jinnie’s here with Dahlia. We thought we’d stroll into the village with the little ones and grab a coffee at Jo’s. Do you want to join us?’
Beth’s first thought was an emphatic no. Then she pictured two sleeping faces, the scent of warm milk, a life she’d banished to the land of if-only.
‘OK, no worries.’ Angela moved to close the door.
‘Wait. Fresh air would be good. Give me half an hour.’
Angela smiled. ‘No rush. Getting the monsters kitted out takes forever.’
A fast shower, mascara, the faintest bloom of blusher. Leggings, T-shirt, denim jacket. Trainers. Backpack. ‘You can handle this,’ she told the mirror. ‘They’re just babies.’
Beth made her way to Angela and Ed’s quarters. Jinnie and Angela sat at the scrubbed pine table, nursing cups of coffee.
‘Hi, Beth. Glad you can join us.’ Jinnie waggled a rattle in front of Dahlia, already strapped into the double buggy. Ruairi, seated in a highchair, eyed a bowl of mashed banana with disdain.
‘We’re trying to introduce them to solids,’ said Angela, with a sigh. ‘Which makes mealtimes a tad more interesting.’
‘But nappies a lot less appealing!’ said Jinnie, with a wry grin.
On the way to A Bit of Crumpet, Jinnie’s curiosity went into overdrive.
‘How come we know so little about you?’
‘Do you have a big family?’
‘Why choose Cranley when there are far more exciting places to live?’
Beth wished – which immediately brought Gigi to mind – that she had Diana’s backbone. Her ability to plough through crap and come out smelling of roses. She imagined Diana’s response: ‘No comment, meaning none of your fucking business.’
But Beth liked Angela and Jinnie. Being direct – rude – wasn’t in her DNA. So she settled for vague responses.
