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No more wondering what state the house would be in when she arrived home.
No more worrying about her mother. That would be Ron’s job.
Audrey felt dizzy at the thought of handing over responsibility and being liberated from it all.
The man on the grass closest to her put his half-eaten cheese sandwich down.
Not reaching out to grab it required more willpower than Audrey knew she had.
She slipped her feet out of her shoes and turned back to her phone.
A dental surgery needed someone to answer the phones and book appointments. True, Audrey didn’t speak French but there would be advantages to not understanding the inner workings of dentistry.
She was about to close the app when a photograph caught her eye.
She lifted the phone closer and peered at the text.
A bookshop on the Left Bank was looking for someone to help out part-time during the summer.
Audrey let out a snort of laughter. Working in a book-shop? If a worse job existed, she couldn’t think of it. She hated books. She hated reading.
She was about to scroll past the job when something caught her eye.
Did that say accommodation included? Yes, it did.
Audrey stared at her phone. That side of things had been worrying her. How was she going to find somewhere to live when she didn’t speak French, didn’t know Paris and had limited funds?
Her pulse raced forward, taking her imagination with it.
A job with accommodation would solve all her problems. Still, a bookshop? She saw now that it was a used bookshop. Did that mean it was full of books people had given away? That was a concept she could get behind.
What sort of person would they be looking for?
Someone brainy and serious. Audrey was neither of those things, but she could fake it if necessary. She was used to presenting a fake self to the world. She’d tie her hair back. Maybe buy a pair of glasses to make herself look more intelligent. Try not to talk too much or crack jokes. That way she’d be less likely to reveal her real self.
“Hey! Audie!” Meena appeared in front of her. “I was wondering if you’d be here.”
Meena worked at the supermarket in the high street and sometimes they managed to coincide their lunch break.
“You’re late.”
“I was being verbally abused by a customer who couldn’t find his favorite brand of canned tomatoes.”
Audrey didn’t see how a can of tomatoes could be the cause of friction, but she did know people got all revved up about different things. “Tomato rage.”
“Don’t even joke about it. I was afraid he was going to throw it at me, and it was a multipack. That would have been the end of me.” Meena sat down next to her and opened her lunch box. “Where’s your lunch?”
“I ate it.” Audrey put her phone on her lap. “What’s that?”
“I don’t know.” Meena investigated. “Pakora, rice, yogurt—that’s to absorb the heat from the chili.”
“It smells good. What’s in it?”
“Vegetables and love.” Meena grinned. “That’s what my mum told me. When I was little I thought you bought love in the market, along with carrots.”
“I can’t believe your mum makes all that for you every day and works as a doctor.”
“Yeah, well, home-cooked food is a big deal in my house. Mum says she finds cooking calming. I do, too. Sometimes I think my whole family is glued together by food.”
Audrey felt no envy that her friend had a place at Oxford University, but she envied Meena her family. “Is your sister still good at French?”
“My sister is okay but my cousin is better. She gets top marks in everything.” Meena ate a spoonful of yogurt. “It’s annoying how good she is at languages.”
“There’s a job I want to apply for, but my French isn’t good enough. Do you think she’d help?”
“Yes. If she doesn’t, I won’t help her with physics.” Meena leaned across, trying to read Audrey’s phone. “What’s the job?”
“It’s a bookshop in Paris. The pay is crap, but it comes with a studio apartment.”
With the money she’d saved from working in the hair salon she’d be able to afford to get herself to Paris and keep herself for two weeks, maybe three if she ate only one meal a day. Then she’d need to find a job.
True, she didn’t know anything about the Left Bank or the Right Bank and would definitely get them muddled up because knowing her left from her right was one of her biggest struggles, but she’d find a way.
“Wait.” Meena stopped chewing. “You’re going to have your own apartment and a job in a bookshop? That’s cool. But if your French isn’t good enough to apply for the job, how are you going to manage when you get there?”
The same way she’d lived her whole life. “I’ll muddle through.”
“You’re so brave. What do they want you to do?”
“I was hoping you could tell me that. Your French is pretty good, too.” Audrey thrust the phone toward her friend, and Meena read it quickly.
“You need to write a piece on why books and reading are important.”
“Crap.”
Meena wiped her fingers. “I thought you hated books and reading.”
“I do. I prefer movies.” Her secret passion was watching animated movies, but she’d never admit to anything so childish. “Obviously I’m not going to tell them that. Does your cousin like books?”
“Yes. She’s always reading.”
“Great. So if she could write why she loves books, in French, I’ll send that off. Can you ask her tonight?”
“Sure.” Meena peered into her lunch box. “Why does my mum make me so much food? If I ate it all I’d be the size of a small office building. Every day I have to throw it away in case she finds out I didn’t eat it all and gets offended. I don’t suppose you want some, do you?”
“Sure.” Audrey had to stop herself from falling face-first into the lunch box like Hardy and his dog bowl. “Anything for a friend.”
She consumed the rest of Meena’s food and tried to figure out a way to persuade Meena’s mother to adopt her.
She was on her way back to the salon when her mother texted.
Come home. It’s an emergency.
Audrey stopped in the doorway. Ellen was cutting hair. Milly answering the phone. The salon was heaving with people. And there was Mrs. Dunmore, who always booked on a Saturday because she liked Audrey to wash her hair.
She glanced at her phone again, torn.
Her mother’s idea of an emergency was running out of gin.
Saturday was the busiest day of the week at work. She was part of a team. She wasn’t going to let them down.
She switched off her phone and walked into the salon.
By the time she eventually arrived home, her mother was waiting for her at the front door, her face ravaged by grief and her breath smelling of alcohol.
“Ron and I have broken up.”
Audrey’s heart hit the ground. “But the wedding is in a week. What happened?”
She walked into the house and closed the door, keen to keep their problems firmly inside.
“I drove him away. Everybody leaves me. No one loves me.”
Audrey struggled to stay calm.
It was her worst nightmare. She’d put all her faith in Ron. “What did you fight about?”
“Nothing!”
“It must have been something.”
“I can’t even remember.” Linda waved her hand. “Something small. I said it was obvious that he didn’t love me and that he might as well just leave right now, so he did.”
“Did he—” Audrey swallowed. “Did he actually say he wanted to break up? Maybe he just needed some air.” She needed air all the time when she was around her mother. “Have you called him?”
“What’s the point? He was always going to leave at some point, so maybe it’s better that it’s now.” Her mother sank onto the sofa. “You’re right, I have to take control of my life.”
Audrey felt a flutter of hope. That was something, at least. “Right. We’ll make an appointment with the doctor. I’ll come with you, and—”
“I started with your room.”
“What?”
“Your room was a mess. Normally I overlook it, but I decided that from today we’re both turning over a new leaf.”
Audrey’s heart started to pound. She wasn’t the one who needed to turn over a new leaf.
“You tidied my room?”
“Not only tidied. I had a clear-out. You’re an adult now, Audrey. You don’t need all that rubbish around you. I filled two black sacks with things you should have thrown out years ago.”
Audrey stared at her mother, and a horrible premonition washed over her.
Surely her mother wouldn’t have—
She couldn’t—
She left the room at a run, taking the stairs so fast she stumbled twice.
Please no, no, don’t let her have done it.
She pushed open the door of her room and stared at her bed. “Mum?” Her voice was hoarse. “Where’s my teddy bear?”
Grace (#ulink_56fcc04c-fd7b-57bc-bab0-fbfa01704417)
When Grace’s parents died, it had been impossible to escape the sympathy. It had wrapped around her like tentacles, squeezing and squeezing until she couldn’t breathe. There was speculation, too, of course, about what exactly had happened on that night, but no one voiced their thoughts directly to her. Everyone had handled her carefully. They’d tiptoed, sent her anxious glances, whispered among themselves—is she doing okay?
It was the same now.
“One sourdough loaf?” Clemmie bagged it up and handed it to Grace with a pitying look. “How are you doing?”
“Great,” Grace lied.
She’d learned a lot about herself since David had left. She’d learned it was possible to smile while crying inside and make cheerful conversation even when you wanted to tell someone to mind their own business.
“You’ve lost a bit of weight.”
Grace paid for the bread. “Slimming down for the summer.”
“It must be so hard.”
She’d seen that same look in people’s eyes ten times a day in the weeks since David had left her. She used to love this small town that she and David had made their home, but now she hated it. In a city she could have disappeared, but here she stood out like a red wine stain on a white carpet. Everyone knew, and each encounter left another tiny cut in her flesh and her feelings, until she felt as if she’d walked naked through a thornbush.
If David hadn’t been the editor of the newspaper, his transgression probably would have made the headlines.
Editor leaves boring wife.
In the days after it had happened even the children in her class had avoided eye contact. None of them had asked her how her Valentine’s date had gone. They’d been particularly well behaved, as if trying to avoid her attention.
Several of them probably had Lissa as a babysitter.
They all assumed the affair must be the worst thing about it, but for Grace the worst thing was losing David.
Being left wasn’t a gentle thing. It was a vicious wrench, a tearing of flesh and feelings. Occasionally, she glanced down at herself and was surprised to discover she wasn’t bleeding. Such a trauma should at least leave a bruise, surely?
She missed the sound of his voice, his familiar solid presence in the bed next to her. She even missed the parts that had annoyed her, like the fact he always forgot his door key. Most of all she missed his gentle humor and wise counsel. She felt like a climbing plant that had lost its support. Without something to lean on, she was lying in an unsightly tangle, unable to unravel herself.
Her thoughts were an endless conveyer belt of what-ifs. What if she’d worn sexier underwear? What if she’d ar ranged more nights away in hotels? No, that wouldn’t have helped. He already thought she was too organizing. She could have encouraged him to arrange nights in hotels, except that then she knew it wouldn’t have happened. Part of the reason she organized things was because David didn’t. He preferred to be more relaxed and spontaneous, but Grace knew that didn’t get you a hotel booking on a busy day.
