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Chapter Thirty-Three
Six weeks later
Iload the car and drive around to pick Mum up. I beep the horn and send a quick text to Marty before she comes out with Andy.
He puts her suitcase in the car and loads the boot with a couple of boxes of jewellery for The Silver Tree before enveloping her in a big hug. She kisses him on the cheek and hugs him back, and I look away, picking my phone back up. It’s a little odd watching my mum and her boyfriend in the car’s wing mirror.
It’s the first time I’ve offered to drive, but perhaps overdue after all these years.
“Ahh, right. We off then?” Mum asks as she does her seat belt up.
“Yep. Got everything?”
“Check. Are you sure you’re okay to drive? I don’t mind.” She twists in her seat to face me.
“Mum, I’ve got this. Relax.” I start the engine and pull off down the road, following the first few turnings on the road to Cornwall.
It’s a peaceful trip. I’ve been quiet for the past few weeks, happy to be in my head rather than share my whimsical sentiments.
“Penny for them.”
“Sorry, what?”
“Penny for your thoughts.”
“Nothing interesting. Just thinking about having some time to myself, enjoy the beach.”
“Okay.”
I sense her eyes on me as if she doesn’t believe me. It’s not a complete lie. I am hoping to clear my head and hopefully gain some much-needed clarity.
Cornwall can soothe you and offer you comfort as if just breathing the air can make you feel better.
We continue the journey, but I take a wrong turn, heading for Tregethworth rather than the place we’ve been visiting for the past several years on the opposite coast. Call it automatic pilot, perhaps. “Molly’s first, then?” I offer, looking to put my mistake right and grinning.
“Molly’s first. Maybe I will drive next year.” She smiles at me, stifling a laugh.
Molly’s is busy; all the tables are full, and we have to wait, so we go out onto the deck and watch the surf. The salty tang of seaweed is in the air, the waves choppy as the tide kicks up on the sand close to the deck.
I stare out at the view — one I’ve seen hundreds of times and just let it sink in — let Cornwall sink in.
The sun struggles against the grey clouds, wrestling to come out and bathe the sea and sun in golden light.
“Anna, the table’s ready.” Mum nudges me, and I zone back into the now.
“Right. I’m starving.” I smile and go back in.
We order, but the conversation is stilted. Or rather, the few words I utter are only in answer to Mum’s probing. She knows something’s off, but I’ve not told her about Jeremy's visit, his dad’s funeral, or the fact that he has a little girl to take care of now.
Despite my determination not to fall into his trap again, I can’t stop thinking about him and everything he said. And now I’m over the shock, I realise he’s left me with a possible fairy-tale ending that seventeen-year-old me would snatch in a heartbeat.
Seventeen-year-old me wouldn’t have believed how bad things got, though, so I’m not sure she’s the right version of me to have an opinion.
“Is this how it’s going to be the whole visit?”
I look up at Mum and see the waffles have arrived, too. I know she said something, and she’s waiting for my response, but I have no idea what she said. “I’m sorry, Mum. What did you say?”
She looks back at her coffee and smiles, and it makes me nervous.
