Page 1 of Just the Beginning

1

‘What about these?’

Anya paused in the act of folding her daughter’s clothes to glance over to where her cousin Chloe was holding up a set of picture books. A flood of memories of sitting in the antique rocking chair Drew had found for Freya’s nursery as she’d read and reread those stories almost dropped Anya to her knees. The antique rocking chair had been loaded onto the back of the bailiffs’ van the previous week along with pretty much everything else of value in the house. They’d left the beds, some kitchen basics and those personal effects not deemed valuable enough to auction off. Everything else had gone, including the designer labels and blingy jewellery Drew had insisted on showering Anya with. A very apologetic man had called only yesterday to ask her if she was aware that the majority of the stones were worthless reproductions. Anya had laughed to the point of hysterics, because wasn’t that just the perfect representation of her life with Drew?

‘Annie?’

Chloe’s gentle question brought Anya back into the present. ‘Sorry, um, let’s take them. Freya’s probably outgrown most of them but she’ll need some familiar things around her. Let’s pack all of her toys too.’ There wasn’t going to be a lot of space at her aunt and uncle’s place, but her daughter had been through so much since that freezing early January night the previous year when the police had shattered their lives with a late-night knock at the door.

Chloe nodded. ‘Good idea. We can look at replacing things gradually once she’s settled in at home.’

Anya quirked her lips into her best semblance of a smile. There hadn’t been anything to smile about since Drew’s death, so it was a case of relying on muscle memory. Given she had the sum total of about thirty pounds in her purse, both she and Freya were going to have to make do with what they had for some considerable time to come. None of which was Chloe’s fault. Her cousin was just doing her best to try and keep Anya’s spirits up. Setting aside the pretty pink cardigan she’d been folding, Anya crossed the room to put her arms around Chloe. ‘Thank you for doing this with me.’

Chloe’s return hug was instantaneous. ‘As if we would leave you to try and deal with this mess on your own.’

‘I know, but it’s not fair that we’re turning all your lives upside down like this.’

Chloe leaned back so she could catch Anya’s eye. ‘Hey, listen. I wouldn’t wish your circumstances on anyone, but I promise you that we are delighted that you and Freya are moving to Halfmoon Quay to be with us.’

Anya nodded. Growing up, she would’ve given everything in the world to live in Halfmoon Quay. The pretty village clinging to the edge of the Cornish coast had been a haven in comparison to the boring privet-hedged suburb she’d lived in on the outskirts of one of the many commuter towns that encircledLondon. In a roundabout way, Anya had indeed given everything and now that childhood wish was coming true. Be careful what you wish for – wasn’t that always the moral of fairy tales?

Her aunt Helen poked her head around the door. ‘Matt’s nipping to the shop to grab some sandwiches for lunch. What would you both like?’ Her expression softened as she saw the cardigan Anya had been folding on the bed. Entering the room, she picked it up and brushed a hand over the pretty flowers stitched around the border. ‘I remember when Freya wore this for your mum’s wedding. Have you heard from her, recently?’

Anya shook her head. ‘Not beyond the odd WhatsApp message.’

Lisa, Anya’s mother and Helen’s sister, had got married the previous autumn to a lovely man called Bill she’d met on a cruise. Lisa had wanted to postpone the wedding given it had less than a year since Drew’s death, but Anya had urged her to go ahead. Her life had been lurching from bad to worse, the police having advised her they had questions about the car accident that had killed Drew. Knowing in her gut there was more trouble to come, Anya had wanted her mother to embrace her own happiness and hadn’t breathed a word to anyone until she’d had no choice.

Over the course of the following few months, all Anya’s worst fears – and several that had never even entered her head – had played out. First the police road traffic accident investigation unit had been unable to recreate a scenario that didn’t involve Drew deliberately steering his car off the road and had submitted a report to the coroner stating that. As a result, the insurers had refused to pay out a penny, and as the unpaid bills piled up, Anya had learned the shocking truth about her husband’s dodgy business dealings.

Still she’d kept quiet, unable to find the words to express notonly her disbelief in what Drew had been up to, but the anger she felt towards herself for being so bloody naïve. While it was true that Drew had rebuffed even the smallest enquiry into their finances, Anya hadn’t tried all that hard to dig deeper, content to live in her own little bubble. It was only when the bank had told her they were going to repossess the house that she’d had no choice but to admit to her family the full scale of the disaster Drew had left her to deal with.

By the time Anya had come clean, Lisa and Bill had relocated to a lovely little villa in the Canary Islands as part of their early retirement plans. Lisa had been furious with Anya for letting her go ahead, but what else had she been supposed to do? There was no way she was going to spoil her mother’s happiness – or Bill’s for that matter – because of what Drew had done. They’d worked their entire lives and had earned what they had. Anya’s mum in particular had struggled to make ends meet after her dad walked out on them. Doing anything that would risk her hard-earned financial security was anathema to Anya. Unfortunately her refusal to take a penny from them had caused something of a rift and they were currently only communicating via WhatsApp messages. Though Anya missed talking to her mum, the distance was a relief compared to the fractious rows that had ended with them both in tears. She knew she could fix things tomorrow if she accepted their offer of financial help, but Anya was adamant. Drew had ruined enough lives with his schemes and lies; she would not add her own mother to the list.

Sheer desperation had forced her to accept her aunt and uncle’s offer to move in with them. Matt, their son and Anya’s cousin, had moved out recently to share a cottage with Ed, a cousin on his father’s side of the family, and they’d converted the old summer house at the end of their garden into a studioapartment for Chloe. Without giving her the chance to refuse, Chloe had moved back into her old bedroom and told Anya the apartment was hers for as long as she needed it. Anya had accepted only because she literally had no other choice. Freya needed a roof over her head and Anya needed a job. With the summer season about to start she hoped she’d be able to pick something up. Anything would do as long as it brought in enough money to at least feed them.

It was her aunt Helen’s turn to hug her. ‘Give her time, lovely, and she’ll come around.’

Anya nodded. ‘I don’t blame her.’ There were only two people she blamed for the situation she found herself in: Drew for being a liar their entire life together and herself for letting him fool her so completely and utterly.

Helen hugged her again. ‘I’d better get downstairs and finish up. I’ll tell Matt to get a selection of sandwiches, okay?’

‘Okay.’ Anya didn’t care what he got, because she’d lost her appetite weeks ago when the full horror of her situation had become clear. She still ate, but only because she needed to stay healthy for Freya’s sake. At least she wasn’t there to see them packing up what was left of the only home she’d ever known. Helen and Ryan had bought them train tickets and Anya had taken Freya down to Halfmoon Quay the previous weekend. She was staying with Chloe’s grandparents while the rest of the family had piled into their cars and travelled back up to Surrey to collect the last of their belongings. Knowing the inevitable was coming, Anya had been thinning out for the past couple of weeks, selling what she could or donating it to charity shops, and recycling or dumping the rest. It had given her something to do in the evenings while Freya was asleep, and she’d found it somewhat cathartic.

Drew’s stuff had gone first and it had been like a weightlifting off her shoulders, giving her the boost she needed to tackle the rest. There was no trace of him left in the house other than in the photo albums Anya had tucked away in the bottom of a box. Her first instinct had been to toss the lot on a bonfire in the back garden, but Freya didn’t know the truth about her father and Anya had sworn the rest of the family to secrecy. Anya knew how hard it was to grow up without a father, her own having left when she wasn’t much older than Freya was now. She hadn’t even had the illusion that he was a good man, having snuck downstairs when she should’ve been in bed and overheard her mum and Aunt Helen talking about what a bastard he was over a bottle of wine. She’d been too young to understand what the word meant, only that it was something bad, and had crept back to bed and cried herself to sleep. One day, when she was old enough, Anya would tell her daughter the truth if she asked about him, but for now, if looking at Drew’s photo brought Freya comfort, she would hold her peace.

By the time Matt called up the stairs to let them know he was back, Anya and Chloe had finished the packing, and three suitcases and half a dozen cardboard boxes were stacked on the landing next to a couple of bags of things she’d decided not to keep after all. Anya sealed the top of the final box with tape and sighed. ‘Not much to show for the past ten years, is it?’

Chloe put her arm around Anya’s waist and hugged her. ‘It’s time to stop worrying about the past, Annie. What’s done is done and from now on you have to focus on the future. On what’s best for you and Freya.’

Anya nodded. ‘Yes, you’re right. At the end of the day, she’s all that matters.’

Her uncle Ryan was coming back through the front door as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Giving Anya his most encouraging smile, he rubbed his hands together. ‘Right, thekitchen is just about done and the boxes are on the trailer. There’s just a few plates and mugs – and the kettle of course – but those will take five minutes to sort out. How are you getting on upstairs?’

‘That’s done as well. We’ve left everything at the top of the stairs.’

He nodded. ‘Matt and I will grab it all after lunch.’ He hesitated, his smile softening into something kinder. Anya’s gut clenched, knowing what he was going to say. ‘That just leaves your workshop.’

Anya swallowed around the lump in her throat. ‘Everything in there can go.’

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