Page 143 of Never Tell Lies

“Yes, he is.” And he knows it too.

“So, does he? Have something to do with you leaving?”

How was I supposed to answer this? “He’s one of my roads.” I hoped she wouldn’t push for more information. Luckily, unlike Alfie, Rosie understood boundaries. I’d forgotten what it was like to be around people that allowed you to keep your thoughts to yourself.

“I see.” She put down her trowel and slid her earth-covered hand into mine. “Well, wherever you’re going to, you just make sure you’re happy.”

“I’m going to do my best,” I told her, trying my hardest not to cry. She cupped my cheek, a gesture that went beyond the friendly but professional relationship we had always shared. Her warm brown eyes poured into mine and I saw for the first time the depth of care she held there.

“You look so much like your mum, did you know that? Not the hair of course, but you have her eyes and your features are so similar.” My heart constricted as it always did at the mention of my mum. It had been over a decade since she passed and I could still remember people telling me back then that one day it would get easier but it hadn’t really. I’d just gotten better at functioning without her.

“I’ve seen a few pictures of her when she was my age. We look a little similar. I remember you went to school together.” It was easy to forget that Rosie had known my mum quite well. I had a dim memory of Rosie being at her funeral and my gran being angry that she’d worn bright colours instead of the perfunctory black, but I hadn’t minded. Mum would have liked it.

“Yes. I was a few years above her but I knew of her. She was hard to miss. She was such a sweet person, so pretty and gentle. I would see her from time to time around town, always with you in tow. She always seemed so happy and she was completely in love with you from the day you were born.” She gave me a small smile and I tried to return it even though it was becoming difficult to breathe.

Part of me wanted to yell at her to shut up and to stop making me hurt. Another part of me wanted to wrench those memories out of her head and keep them for myself. That part of me was angry that her grown-up memories were better formed than my child-like ones. It felt unfair, as if she’d stolen them from me. Another part of me just wanted to sit here for the rest of my life and listen to her talk about my mum.

“I worried for you when she passed and worried about you even more after your grandmother…well...But then you came here looking for a job and I just knew this would be the right place for you. I watched you for a while and saw the way you handled the plants with the same care and love that she did.” She took my hands in hers, looking down at them as if they weren’t my hands any more but my mum’s and her eyes began to brim with tears.

“Oh ignore me!” She released me and dabbed at her eyes with her shawl. “I’m being a very silly woman. I just think your mum would have been proud of you. You’re such a strong, smart young woman. I’m proud of you too, dear.” Before I could burst into tears she wrapped her arms around me.

Rosie’s hugs had always been painful for me. Her flyaway fabrics and earth-covered hands were so like my mum’s. I wanted to tell her about Alfie, about our fight and how scared I’d been when I’d found him scalding himself in the shower. I wanted to tell her about my acceptance to college because she would be so excited. Then she drew away and it was my employer’s face looking back at me, not my mum’s. So, I kept it all inside and pasted a smile on my face, as if I hadn’t just severed my ties to a place of comfort and safety, as if I was absolutely, completely fine, and not scared at all.

Forty-Nine

The afternoon dragged and my usually cosy cabin became a hothouse of tension, all courtesy of Mark. By the time my doctor’s appointment rolled around I practically ran out the door.

I wasn’t relishing the idea of telling my GP that I’d lost my pills but I was glad of an excuse to get out of there. An hour later, the pills were in my hand and I breathed a deep sigh of relief. Being disorganised was cute and everything but I needed to start paying better attention to where I was putting things.

My GP recommended I take the next one immediately and then continue as normal tomorrow and avoid any further encounters for the next 24 hours. I’d shuddered when he’d said that. No one wanted to hear a man old enough to be your grandfather instruct you to abstain from any ‘Encounters.’

No further encounters sounded like hell on earth and once Alfie found out it probably would be. I decided to head straight home and pulled out my phone to text Alfie, telling him to pick me up there instead of work, but an unread message was already sitting on my screen waiting impatiently for my attention. I’d never thought of texts as impatient before, but Alfie’s definitely were. I swiped my phone and opened the message.

I have to go to London. I’ll see you tomorrow.

A.

Well, Mr Tell, how very romantic.

His bluntness should annoy me, but behind the message I could imagine him in a boardroom, head of the table, miserable and dead-eyed, the way I’d seen him so many times now. I wished I could be with him but considering the 24-hour abstinence rule this actually solved a lot of potential arguments.

Besides, it meant I got to spend some time with my family. I needed to make the most of them while I could, because in two weeks, one way or another, I would be leaving them. Telling Rosie had been hard enough. How I was going to break it to the only family I had left, I had no idea.

“No, no, no Auntie Lo! He needs to bewayfatter than that!” My darling nephew scolded my attempted illustration of Geoffrey the Ice-Cream Eating Giraffe. I’d spent the last hour of my Monday evening at the dining table, being berated by an eight-year-old as I failed to draw a suitably obese giraffe.

I’d run into a solid wall of guilt when I got home. The house was a mess, Ryan was having a fit about something, and my sister looked exhausted. I’d left her on her own for four days. What kind of sister was I?

Then I remembered that in two weeks I’d be leaving her for good. As I looked at her, with circles around her eyes and slumped shoulders, I wondered what kind of shitty person I must be to ditch the only family that I had to follow my own selfish needs. So, I did the only thing I could do at that moment—I gave her the night off. I’d thought she might go out and see some friends, but instead she was spending her rare night offreedom having a bubble bath and reading a Georgette Heyer novel in the private serenity of her bedroom.

My attention was drawn back to the temperamental urchin in my lap by his elbow digging into my ribcage. The back of his neck was smeared with dirt, there was paint, glue, and several other questionable substances on his t-shirt, and his hair stuck up in tufts all over his head. Ryan would be more at home in Fagin’s Den than my gran’s little cottage.

He wriggled in my lap, readjusting his bony bottom until he was comfortable again, then snatched the pencil out of my hand and re-drew the giraffe himself. I watched him colouring carelessly over the edges of the paper so small yellow lines spilled onto my gran’s wooden dining table, replacing the ones that I’d left there when I was a child.

My phone buzzed. I glanced at it over the top of Ryan’s head, not at all surprised when Alfie’s name flashed on the screen. I held it out of the way of Ryan’s all-seeing eyes, as I wasn’t sure if what Alfie had to say would be child appropriate.

I strongly dislike being away from you.

A.

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