Just Like the Other Girls - Claire Douglas Page 0,126
was a way for him to bow out of his parental responsibilities, knowing there was always someone else to keep an eye on us, or to give advice or discipline. Mum, on the other hand, I miss terribly. But I’m glad she’s not around to see what Arlo has become.
I enjoy working with Kathryn at the gallery, and I hope she knows she can trust me. I’m not interested in taking her place or my grandmother’s money. I’m just happy to have a semblance of a family after my own has fallen apart so catastrophically.
Grandma, as Elspeth likes me to call her now, enjoys the tales of my childhood. She doesn’t want to hear about Arlo. To her, it’s like he doesn’t exist – and we know she’s good at that because she did the same when my mother left. But now she asks endless questions about Viola, as she still refers to her.
‘Did she ever mention me?’ she asked once, and I lied and said, yes, of course. And Elspeth – Grandma – would lean back in her chair with a serene smile at the thought that her daughter hadn’t forgotten her after all.
On Sunday Courtney calls for me and we amble into the village for lunch.
Courtney and I have become good friends. I was worried at first that she’d blame me for Una’s murder, that I was somehow accountable by proxy because it was my brother who killed her. But on the contrary we’re bonded by it, and the same applies to her and Peter. They’re dating, and she’s moving to London to be nearer to him.
‘When are you leaving?’ I ask her, as we link arms and head to our favourite café.
‘Next weekend. I’ve found a job in a salon in Covent Garden and a house-share in Streatham. Not far from Peter.’ She blushes when she mentions his name. She’s got it bad. ‘You know, you could come too. We could find a place together.’
‘I’ve thought about it. But I can’t leave Elspeth – Grandma. It still feels weird to call her that. Not yet, anyway. Not when I’ve only just found her. I’ve moved around so much in the last few years, it’ll be nice to put down roots for a while.’
‘I understand. But you’ll visit, won’t you?’
‘You bet.’ We fall into a companionable silence before I ask, ‘How’re things going with Peter?’
‘Really well.’ She grins. ‘I’ve never felt this way about anyone.’ Then she looks sad.
‘What is it?’
She shrugs. ‘I don’t know. I suppose I feel like I’m leaving Una behind. And I know it’s a big ask, but will you visit her grave for me? She’s buried in the same cemetery as her mum.’
Although I never knew Una, my eyes smart. ‘Of course I will.’
‘I think Vince goes sometimes.’ She gives me a knowing look. I know she’s trying to set us up but that would be too weird. I already feel like I’m living Una’s life, inhabiting her space, getting close to her best friend. Going out with her ex would be one step too far.
By now we’ve reached the café. There’s a party atmosphere in the village today. A busker strums a guitar on the corner, while groups of young people sit outside drinking iced lattes and chatting.
We find a table. Courtney goes off to get some menus and I sit, watching the world go by. Today I refuse to think about Arlo and the girls he killed or the trial date that’s looming. I refuse to be quashed by the guilt of his crimes. Instead I give thanks to the universe for my life, for Courtney and my new family. And for the future, which Una and Jemima and Matilde never got the chance to have.
47
Kathryn
The sun beats down and Kathryn can feel her shoulders starting to burn as she meanders through the grounds of the National Trust’s Tyntesfield, the boys running in front of her and Ed by her side. It warms her heart to see her sons so carefree, particularly Jacob. For once he’s acting like a kid instead of a surly teenager, teasing his brother and not caring what he looks like as he races Harry and pushes him over. They roll around on the grass in a play fight.
‘It’s beautiful here,’ says Ed, taking a deep breath. He grabs her hand and she smiles up at him. Her lovely, dependable, affable Ed. In some ways he reminds her of Huw. Maybe that was why she fell for