squeeze (she could hear Holly cringing, ‘no one says that any more, you muppet!’) glowing with happiness, as radiant as a new bride fresh from an exotic and erotic honeymoon, and totally over all the shabby misery the ex-husband and ex-best friend had inflicted, because she had a much better life now.
Yes, that was a fantasy she could happily run with to distract herself from her own guilt, the part she’d played in the breakdown of her marriage because it had never been put into words.
Or she could try to use up the time testing out various scenarios that might crop up over the next few weeks in order to prepare herself for all eventualities. She wasn’t nervous about her new assignment exactly; in fact she was quite excited by it, and grateful that it had come her way at this time when she’d so badly needed the distraction. Regrettably, her heartache was coming too, there was no leaving it in a cupboard at home, or burying it in a time capsule to be dug up by strangers a century after her death.
Before leaving this morning, in a fit of despair and utter stupidity, she’d composed a text to Callum: I’ve told Holly she can get me on my mobile if she needs to. If you happen to come to your senses while I’m gone please know it’s already too late. You’re stuck with Martha and her moustache.
She hadn’t actually sent the last two sentences, but it had given her a momentary satisfaction to see them there until she’d realized how pathetic they made her look. Although Martha really would have a moustache if she hadn’t shelled out for several sessions of electrolysis some years ago.
And she was definitely fat.
What are you talking about, Martha, you’re absolutely not fat. You’re curvaceous and sexy and totally scrumptious, which is what all men love – and honestly they don’t look at ankles.
What a wonderful best friend she’d been, always ready to stretch the truth to make Martha feel good about herself.
Callum had texted back: Are you going to tell me where you’re going? Are you all right?
She hadn’t replied to that, mainly because she wanted him to feel intrigued and worried and guilty and altogether sick of himself for breaking up their home and their family and taking their daughter with him.
‘I think it’s best if I go,’ Holly had sighed when Joely had gone into her room the day they’d left to ask her to stay. She’d seemed unfocused, earbuds in, suitcase half full, decisions in progress.
‘But why? This is your home. I’m your mother.’
Holly turned to regard her own lovely face in the mirror, innocent, almond shaped eyes, exquisitely wide sculpted mouth, silky blonde hair drawn over one shoulder. So much beauty and sophistication in one so young, except Joely wasn’t fooled. No matter how grown-up and worldly she looked, or liked to believe herself to be, at heart Holly was still a child.
‘Is that who you are?’ Holly asked, still gazing at her own reflection, not at her mother’s.
‘Holly, please …’
‘It’s best I’m with Dad.’
Joely wondered what she’d done to alienate her daughter, what had happened to the closeness they used to take for granted, the easy laughter, shared clothes and long-into-the-night confidences. These days she was almost impossible to get close to.
‘What can I do to make things right between us?’ Joely asked, unable to let her go like this.
‘You’re asking me? Why don’t you ask yourself?’ She could be so sharp at times. An over-privileged, over-beautiful teen who hadn’t yet learned how easy it was to hurt people. Maybe because she was hurting too.
‘Holly, that’s enough with the attitude,’ Callum interrupted, appearing in the doorway.
Throwing out her hands, Holly cried, ‘You’re treating me like I’m the one to blame around here, but it’s her. It’s like we’ve all stopped existing, we don’t matter any more!’
‘I said enough. Your mother loves you and she’s going to miss you, so try to be nice before we leave.’
Holly’s frown darkened as she muttered, ‘From you, that’s great, but whatever.’
Later, when Holly was outside in the car waiting to go, Joely used pride to suppress her tears as she looked at Callum, still not quite believing he would go through with this. They belonged together; surely he felt that as deeply as she did. They’d shared so much, had digital albums full of it, and what about all the dreams they had yet to see through? He was going to find