was a hard person to live with. I never blamed him for running away. I pursed my lips, kept my silence. I let her have her say.
‘I’ve been wanting to see you for ages, but they told me I had to concentrate on getting well before I took anything else on.’
My spirits sank. There it was, back to me, the burden of her life. I was something she had to be well enough to ‘take on’. I pushed the cake to one side. If I had any appetite left, I’d lost it now.
‘Things are different now,’ she hastily added, seeing my crestfallen face. ‘Tony’s been my rock, and Jenny . . . she’s such a sweet girl.’ She paused, sipped her tea to fill the silence. ‘I tried to send you an invite to our wedding, but your friend said you’d moved on.’
My friend. I snorted. Dympna and I had been together since childhood and she couldn’t even remember her name. ‘I got the invite,’ I said. ‘I didn’t want to go.’
I allowed her to express her sorrow. Watched as she visibly ran out of steam. Finally, she sighed and took another sip of tea.
‘I’ve been offered a job in America.’ I looked at her thoughtfully as our meeting wound down. ‘So you don’t need to worry about me.’
It wasn’t strictly true. If things didn’t work out with the adoption there was no telling where I’d end up. At least now I knew it wouldn’t be with her. I would always be her problem child. She was still in recovery. I could not take my baby to her door.
‘America? Really?’ she said, her face flushed with concern. ‘What’s the job?’
‘It’s in an art gallery,’ I lied. ‘A six-month apprenticeship.’
‘But it’s so far away.’ She cleared her throat, as if knowing her advice was coming a little too late. ‘As long as you’re sure it’s what you want. Can you write to me? Tell me how you’re getting on? You always were great at drawing.’
A memory tugged at my consciousness: My mother tearing up a portrait I’d sketched because it made her look old. The sting of her palm as it met my cheek with force, spittle flying from her mouth as she raged. Taking a breath, I reeled myself back to the present day.
‘I’m not sure I’ll have time. It’ll be pretty full-on.’ I paused. This was painful for both of us. I needed to bring things to an end. ‘Listen, I . . . I’ve got to go.’
She nodded. I watched her hand stretch across the table as she tried to reach for mine. I gripped my mug tightly. She rested her hand on my wrist.
‘I don’t blame you for being angry,’ she repeated. ‘But it’s healthier for us both if we can move on.’
‘That’s what I’m doing,’ I replied. ‘In a new country, with a new life. You’ve got your new family, too.’
‘But I want you to be part of it.’
I watched, horrified, as her eyes glistened with unshed tears. It was so tempting to stay, but it was too soon for her to take my baby on. I took a deep breath. Patted her hand as I tried to disentangle myself from our meeting. ‘It’s better this way.’
‘Wait,’ she said, slipping an envelope from her pocket. ‘For later.’ Leaning forward, she shoved it into my coat pocket before I could say any more.
I stood, stepping back to allow a woman with a chequered shopping trolley to go past. I looked at my mother as if she was a stranger. I was doing her a favour; she just didn’t know it yet.
‘I’m glad we were able to clear the air. Take care of yourself.’ I squeezed her shoulder. Tore my gaze away.
‘But . . . Roz . . . Don’t go.’ Clumsily, she rose from her chair. I could not watch. I couldn’t . . . My movements jerky, I stumbled out of the coffee shop and did not look back.
CHAPTER NINE
SHERIDAN
‘Gone, has she? It’s about time she left.’ Sheridan pulled a face. The journalist from Esquire magazine had commandeered her husband since they’d returned from the riding school. It was meant to be their day off, but that woman had monopolised Daniel for almost an hour. Not that Sheridan had been twiddling her thumbs. She had spent the time on the phone to her head of public relations, who had managed to bag her a cover shoot with Vogue. But Daniel didn’t need to know that; she