that night. So I don’t think that she sits waiting for me to call or hoping for a visit. She couldn’t give a shit, Kate. She never did.’
There were a few seconds of silence while both of them took stock. Kate had never wanted for maternal love, but she did understand cruelty and could not blame Tanya in the least for wanting no more of it.
‘Well, even though I am not your mum, I can tell you that I am truly proud of what you have achieved. Only months ago your life was falling apart, Tanya, and now the whole world is out there for the taking. Whatever you decide to do, I know you will achieve great things.’
‘I don’t want to achieve great things, Kate. I just want normal. I’d settle for a bit of peace, a little flat, a job. And I’d really like one of those posh coffee machines they’ve got in the pub; I could drink that stuff all day!’
‘And you shall have that, Tanya, all of it.’
‘Gooooood morning!’
Tom came through the back door with a basket chock full of fresh vegetables.
‘Today I make-a my leeegenderrry vegetable lasagne!’
His Italian accent was appalling. They all laughed.
‘Just bumped into Rodney on the harbour. He’s tarting up his boat as usual. I managed to snaffle all this veg off him at cost! A good day’s work, if I do say so myself. Fancy giving me a hand, Tanya? This lot won’t chop itself, you know.’
‘Sure.’
Tanya slunk off her chair and took the little paring knife gingerly into her hand.
‘I’m not very good. Nearest I’ve ever come to cooking is watching Ready Steady Cook.’
Stacey came down the stairs, heading out for her morning constitutional. She caught the tail end of the conversation.
‘Ready Steady Cook? God, that reminds me of one of Nathan’s old ladies who was obsessed with it, and she couldn’t cook either! He used to tell me about her and have me rollin’.’
She smiled at the happy memories.
‘Well, I’m going to teach Tanya, so at the very least she’ll be able to conjure up a decent lasagne. There is really nothing to it. By the time we’ve finished with her, she’ll be creating masterpieces that she can rustle up in her own kitchen.’
The trio looked at Kate. Tom winked at his boss. Tanya beamed. This only reinforced the idea that one day she would have her very own kitchen and she would prepare the dishes that Tom had taught her. She couldn’t wait.
Kate had gone for an afternoon nap. Her head was filled with thoughts of Lydia, imagining what tomorrow might bring. Even though the trip to Bristol was all arranged, she was still in two minds about whether she should go to the exhibition. There were so many things that could go horribly wrong.
A nightmare wrenched her from her rest. The song that she thought she had banished forever swirled in her head.
Hey, little girl,
Comb your hair, fix your make-up.
Soon he will open the door.
Don’t think because
There’s a ring on your finger,
You needn’t try any more
The relief upon waking had been instant and sweet. It was just a horrid dream and she was safe. Mark was gone and could not hurt her any more. She sat up in the bed and wrapped her arms around her bunched-up knees. The fingers of her right hand snaked to the back of her thighs, where they ran over the bumps and dents of her scars, never more than a fingertip away. She shivered.
Whenever Kate dreamed like this, she always spent the next few hours with a slight tremor to her hand and a quiver in her voice. The memories of her old life sat like a tiny echo at the base of her thoughts. They unnerved her.
After gulping down a wake-up coffee, she welcomed the sun against her skin as she wandered the garden. The meandering paths that led nowhere in particular and the cottagey feel of the disorganised, mismatched planting suited her much more than… she suppressed the image of the school grounds, its manicured lawns and the regimental roses. A shudder ran through her. At the washing line she brushed her hand over the soft pale lilac sheet that pulled against its anchorage like a spinnaker in the Cornish breeze. Kate had not washed a sheet for many years. It had been one of two unshakeable resolutions, the other being to wear jeans every day.
She negotiated the steep path down to the sea and spread her blanket on