I said a quick goodbye to Carolyn and followed Rob out to the car.
Rob unlocked the car door and put the box in the back. ‘Hang on a sec, Ella. I found another box of your mum’s things in the shed – I think Carolyn must have forgotten about it. Just one minute and I’ll get it for you.’
I nodded as he scurried off, returning with a small shoebox.
‘Right,’ he said, sliding into the driver’s seat. ‘Let’s get you home.’ He started the engine and I clenched my jaw. In the back seat, the boxes felt like my mother’s crouching presence, watching us. I couldn’t wait to pack them away.
‘You know, it was really nice to see you,’ Rob said. ‘Carolyn, well . . . she worries a lot about you.’
‘I’m fine,’ I said tightly. ‘Just tell her not to worry.’
Rob laughed. ‘Telling her that is like telling the sea to stay still,’ he said. ‘But talking to you a bit more, well, it’d do her good.’
I swung my gaze towards him. ‘Is she okay?’ Something in his voice made me wonder.
‘Oh, yes, she’s all right,’ he said. ‘Just a few minor issues with her blood pressure – the doctor thinks it’s to do with her heart. They’re going to do a few more investigations.’
‘Right.’ I swallowed. ‘But she’ll be okay, right?’
‘Oh, yes, as long as she doesn’t get herself too worked up. Right, here we are.’ Rob pulled up in front of my block of flats. ‘Do you want me to help you carry the boxes up?’
‘No, that’s okay. I can manage.’ Rob hadn’t been in my flat since he’d helped me move in – there was hardly any room for me and Dolby, let alone entertaining other people. ‘Thanks for the lift.’
‘My pleasure.’ He touched my arm. ‘See you soon?’
I nodded, although I didn’t know what he meant by ‘soon’. I reached over to the back seat and hauled out the two boxes, then set them down and closed the car door. Rob lifted a hand and the car pulled away, leaving me alone with the remains of my mother’s life.
CHAPTER NINE
JUDE
August 1980
Jude hadn’t realised time could pass so quickly – well, not in Hastings, anyway, where one hour could sometimes feel like a century. But over the next few days, the minutes flew by. Despite her declaration that she didn’t need any complications right now, she and Bertie were spending almost every second together . . . from the moment she woke up and rushed to his hotel (Frank’s place wasn’t fit for a rat, he’d said) to the late-night walk back to Carolyn’s. Sweetly, Bertie hadn’t tried to convince her to stay over – not yet, anyway, although she couldn’t wait. If their kissing was anything to go by, making love was going to be amazing.
She smiled now as she hurried along the promenade to his hotel, recalling the moment they’d locked lips on the night they’d first met. They’d spent that whole night on the beach (she’d had a lot of explaining to do about that one with Carolyn). Bertie had walked her along the promenade in the dawn, asking if he could see her again. She’d grabbed his hand and nodded, saying how about right now, for breakfast? She’d been so happy she hadn’t even been tired, and she could see he felt the same. They’d got breakfast in the one place that was open, then sat down on a bench in the glowing sun and fallen asleep in each other’s arms. It sounded like something from a romance novel – and it had felt like it, too. When Bertie had lowered his lips to hers, light had filled her, banishing any lingering darkness.
Bertie was so far from her usual type that she couldn’t even begin to describe what made him attractive. It wasn’t just his impeccable manners, how he always turned up on time without a million excuses, like the other blokes she’d dated, or how he really listened when she spoke. It was just . . . him. There was something about his soul, about the very essence of what made him Bertie that clicked so well with her. They were two very different pieces of a puzzle that slotted together perfectly. He made her feel anchored and safe, like she wasn’t about to float off untethered, the way she’d been feeling since her parents had died.
Her smile grew wider as thoughts of yesterday filled her head. Like every day she and Bertie had been together, they’d had breakfast then gone down to the promenade, where Bertie watched her sing. He’d stood quietly at the back of the crowd as always, his gaze fixed firmly on her face as if nothing in the world was as important as her. The blue sky had clouded over and a sharp wind whipped the water, and Jude could feel cold seeping into her more and more with each gust. The punters started melting away and she’d been about to grudgingly pack it in when Bertie had appeared at her side, wrapping her in his thick coat and rubbing her arms.
‘Keep going,’ he’d said, urging her on. He’d understood that, for her, this wasn’t just busking – this was working towards a dream; towards starting the life she’d always wanted. She’d taken a deep breath and started to sing again, warm now from her very core.
When she’d first told Bertie about her plan to go to London, she’d been worried that he’d think she was crazy, just like Carolyn had. Jude knew it wasn’t the most practical idea, and anyone could see the odds were stacked against her. Even if she did manage to get a job at one of pubs Frank had mentioned when she’d pumped him for information, that was only a very slim foothold on the long ladder she’d need to climb. Jude had braced herself, unsure if she could bear hearing anything negative from this man who’d made her feel that, finally, someone actually saw her.
But Bertie had surprised her. He’d hugged her tightly, saying how brave she was to follow her dreams and how much he admired her passion for singing – that he could hear it in every word. And as he’d stood there yesterday, watching her sing, his arms bare as the freezing wind whipped in from the sea, she realised that not only did he understand, but he wouldn’t try to change her. She could be her.
When she really couldn’t sing any longer, she and Bertie would abandon her pitch and head down to the beach for a break before her pub gigs started. Sometimes Frank would join them, sitting still for just one second before trying to drag Bertie into the frothy water, often succeeding. Jude would lounge on the sand as the laughter from the two men floated towards her, smiling as she watched the two of them cavort in the waves like overgrown puppies. Then, despite the fact that Jude would need to do her hair all over again, she’d plunge into the sea savouring the cold water on her sweaty, sunburned skin. Frank was like crashing waves to Bertie’s still water, but despite the differences between the two brothers, she’d never seen them clash – not like she and Carolyn did. Bertie could take it all in his stride, and that made her feel even more comfortable with him. Happiness bubbled up inside, filling her whole world with light.
Even Carolyn noticed what a good mood Jude was in, commenting that she hoped it would last. She’d meant Jude’s good mood, of course, and not her fling with Bertie (Carolyn didn’t even know about Bertie), but it made Jude think. This was just a fling, a wonderful holiday romance that couldn’t last. Soon, Bertie would go back to Edinburgh. Hastings would revert from being a wonderland to a wasteland once again and, come September, she’d go to London.