"Okay, I was just saying…"
The stand-off lasted less than twenty seconds, Imogen finally relenting.
"So, I'm going to call Billy and make sure she's onboard with my party plans…I guess at leastshe'llbe there."
Rosa pressed her tongue into the side of her mouth to stop herself from saying something she might not regret. She’d clearly done too good a job shielding Imogen from the reality of her younger years.
Because, of course Billy would be there. It was her parents hosting after all, and wasn't she always the “good” parent? The one who let Imogen climb trees and dive off high boards way before she was ready. Wasn't it Billy who was the fun one? She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.It's not a competition, she reminded herself.
But it was, wasn't it?
Chapter two
Music blared from the car stereo as Billy Fisk drove towards Amberfield for her weekend with Imogen, an agreement that had only been in place for the last three years. Before that, it had been monitored visits, or agreements her parents be there too. And in all honesty, she couldn't really blame Rosa for the precautions. She'd been a mess for far too many years of their daughter's young life.
She'd stopped at the supermarket and picked up a bagful of food Imogen would want to eat over the weekend and stuffed it all onto the supposed back seat. It served no real purpose, unless the people in the front were pushed up against the dashboard, but was bigger than the tiny boot space.
Billy didn't care, though. The car was all part of the image. She was back, and the world knew about it—the way she dressed, the car, the flat overlooking the river.
Nothing and no one would ever take her down that path of self-destruction again.
Billy pulled up outside the small cottage and yanked the handbrake. Always experiencing the same feeling whenever she arrived here—the ghost of what they'd planned together. Rosa had made the dream real—their dream home that Billy played no part in anymore.
She couldn't blame Rosa for that either.
The door opened and Imogen rushed out of the house, bag slung over her shoulder. She pulled the handle of the door on the small sports car, opened the door wide, and jumped into the passenger seat before Billy had even switched off the engine.
"Billy, you're early. I'm not finished packing."
Billy climbed out, long legs stretching, knees clicking. She caught her own reflection in the living room window. Her tall frame was thin, wiry. Years of being on edge, therapy—it had taken its toll in many ways, but now she looked about as healthy as she ever had. Long dark hair was swept back into a ponytail. Not a speck of makeup worn on her face, other than some lip gloss.
"Hey, Immy." She pulled her daughter close and kissed her forehead. "You have clothes at mine, and it's not like we have far to come back if you did need something."
Imogen shrugged. "I know, but…I kind of think of it like a holiday when I come to your place." She glanced over her shoulder at Rosa standing in the doorway watching them. "And Mum needs her own time, without me back and forth.” She paused and then added, “Maybe it's about time she met someone again."
Billy raised a hand and waved at her ex-wife. "Still no dates?" she whispered.
Imogen shook her head. "Not sure she's looking, to be fair."
"I guess she'll meet someone when the time is right."Because it isn't your business now, is it?She followed Imogen up the garden path and casually smiled at her ex. "Rosa, how's things?"
Rosa shrugged. "All the same as usual. Work, home, this one, work." She mirrored the small smile back as Imogen passed her and rushed upstairs again. "Coming in?"
Studying Rosa for a moment, Billy noticed the crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, the slight greying at the temples.When had they both changed so much?
"Yes, sure. Imogen's still packing." She stepped inside and followed the hallway to the kitchen, waiting for Rosa as she closed the door behind them.
"I was just making a brew." A statement that carried an unasked question in all British households.
"Uh, sure, why not." She stood awkwardly until Rosa pointed to the chair.
"You can sit down." Rosa turned back to the kettle. "How's things with…what's this one called?" She twisted back around again. "Stella?"
"Yeah, we, uh…we broke up."
"Oh." It was one thing having a little jibe when all was well, but Rosa now looked a little contrite. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"I'm not." Billy half-smiled. "She didn't think my weekends with Immy were important, so…" She shrugged. "Don't like my kid being around, then…she's not for me."
