‘Hi!’ she says, clambering to her feet and shoving the book under the bean bag. Ha. It’sWarm Bodies, the one Beth got from the bookshop in Stratford-upon-Avon. She’s wearing the exact same jogging pants as my daughter, baby pink and so baggy and balloon-like they remind me of MC Hammer, and a Panic! At The Disco T-shirt. One of Beth’s favourites.
‘Hi,’ I reply, smiling at the other two. Both boys, one six or seven, the other at that awkward age where he’s not quite a teenager but really wants to be cool. All of them have the same gorgeous red hair, so I’m guessing siblings. She and Beth immediately start chatting, and despite the very different accents, I can tell they are from the same tribe. I leave them to it for a moment, browsing the books – so many, and all totally lush, everything fromBlack BeautytoSkulduggery Pleasant. I lose myself in a chapter ofThe Wind in the Willows, letting the girls get acquainted as I catch up with Moley and Mr Toad.
‘Moira’s outside,’ Beth tells me a few minutes later, as though I should know who that is. I guess I’d zoned out, welcoming the escape into the book. I raise my eyebrows, and she adds: ‘Moira owns the shop, and sent out the cards. They’re expanding into a gallery next door, and that came with space at the back, which Brody has turned into a courtyard called the Secret Garden. This is Laurel and her brothers, Sam and Charlie. Her mum, Rosie, runs the café. She’s outside in the Secret Garden, drinking wine with Moira. You should join them. You like wine.’
She’s learned a huge amount in maybe five minutes max. I have no idea who any of these people are. I wonder if Beth has a future as a spy.
Wine sounds good, but I am consumed with an unexpected wash of anxiety at the thought of meeting new people. I don’t appear shy on the surface, I can’t in my job, which involves being the buffer zone between a lot of often demanding personalities. But underneath that, I am actually deeply private, and I hold my secrets so close that sometimes I even hide them from myself.
Not long ago I felt like this was right. Now I am suddenly eaten alive by doubt. What am I doing here, in this place that forces me to face the past?
It’s not too late to leave, to run. I could plead a work emergency and take Beth home. Or I could claim a daughteremergency, and tell work I am no longer on call – book us a fly-and-flop to Corfu or Tenerife… Or we could just leave here. There are hotels within driving distance, I looked them up before we came, just in case.
‘Mum!’ says Beth, interrupting my escape plans. ‘I asked if it was okay for me to go with Laurel? She’s going to show me around Bonnie Bay!’
She announces this with more enthusiasm than I’ve heard from her in years. How can I even consider dampening that joyful spark? What kind of a mother would I be if I put myself first like that? I’m here, and I’ll cope – we just won’t stay long.
‘Well, hello now!’ comes a voice from behind us. I whirl around, and see an elderly woman, brandishing a glass of something fizzy. She’s carrying some years, but carrying them well, lean and fit-looking still, her face lined but her eyes as sparkling as the wine. ‘I thought I heard the bell go!’
‘How, Moira?’ asks the youngest boy, clinging to her hand. ‘You were ages away in the outside!’
‘Well, I have magic ears, Charlie my love – as most women do.’
‘Like my mum, when she knows I’m in the biscuit barrel even when she’s watching telly in the other room?’
‘Exactly like that, Charlie. Remember that when you’re older.’
She turns to me and smiles, her already animated face even more vivid. She has beautiful hair, rich, thick curls in all the shades of silver. So much texture and flow – like a Rossetti painting if the model had aged.
‘I’m Moira McLeod,’ she says, holding out her hand for me to shake. ‘I’d give you a hug but I’m holding a wine glass, and I wouldn’t want to risk spilling any.’
‘Absolutely not,’ I reply. ‘Totally agree. I’m Jane, Jane Clarke, and this is my daughter, Beth.’
‘Och, it’s so lovely to meet you both! Were you looking for a book, or just having a wee mooch around?’
‘We already have a book,’ Beth says, eyeing Moira up with interest. ‘It’s calledThe Real World of Macbeth, and we found it in a shop in Stratford-upon-Avon. And inside it, there was this card…’
Moira’s expression changes to one of wonder, her eyes wide and her mouth dropping open.
‘Oh my!’ she says, gulping down the wine. ‘The card with the beautiful mountains on it?’
‘Yes,’ I tell her. ‘It was. The words were beautiful too. So… here we are.’
‘Aye. I see that. Here you are.’
I shrug, slightly embarrassed by it all now. She looks me up and down, and I feel like she takes in every inch of my soul. My hair in its no-fuss bob, my make-up free face, the T-shirt that I spilled coffee on earlier. My exhaustion, my worry, my constant fear that one day, the world will discover I’m a fraud. My secret loneliness, hidden down beneath the layers of everything else, the bedrock of my life. I feel tears spring to my eyes, sharp and bitter, and I’m horrified at the rush of emotion.
Moira puts down her glass, and wraps me in her arms. I’m very slightly taller than her, but I still feel like she’s completely enveloping me in warmth and kindness, the simple sense of being near another human being who will help. Who will take some of the strain. Who will soak up some of the feelings that being here in Bonnie Bay has provoked.
It is so unexpected, such a strange relief, that I actually start to sob. Not just a little subtle tear, but a full-on, all-guns-blazing weep onto her shoulder.
‘There there, hen,’ she murmurs, patting me on the back. ‘It’s all going to be okay, child. Don’t you worry.’
By the time I pull away from her, I am a tear-and-snot-stained mess, and completely mortified. As, of course, is Beth. She’s staring at me with a mixture of genuine concern and utter horror. She’s upset that I’m upset, but also probably embarrassed in front of her new friend.
‘Sorry,’ I mutter, to the room in general. ‘Think I’m a bit tired.’
‘Well, you can rest now. You’re where you’re meant to be,’ says Moira firmly. ‘Laurel, are you going to take Beth for a tour, did I hear you say?’
